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sweet-lost-husbands · 1 year ago

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To Save You

Dean Winchester x Castiel | Whump | Injured Dean Winchester

Hurt/Comfort Word count: 3.2k Summary: Dean and Cas are on a hunt when things go sidewards. Dean gets hurt and Cas's powers are to weak to heal him so he has to improvise. Warnings: Serious injury, blood, gore, cauterization. Italics are the character's thoughts REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Dean opened his eyes as a big bold head with dark skin came into view from the side. In that moment he propelled himself from the tree and started into a sprint.

“Oh, not so fast little hairless monkey.”

Dean didn’t turn around as the guy swiped his hand, sending him onto a tree with a thud. Dean let out a shriek of pain as the wind got knocked out of him. He tried to fight it, the energy that was pinning him, crushing him against the trunk but the more he fought the more violent the ripples of pain were sent through his body. Dean watched helplessly as the angel neared.

A shiny blade fell from his sleeve and into his hand. “I’m going to gut you, and I'm going to enjoy it.” A feral smile twisted in his lips.

Each beat of Dean’s heart thundered through his entire body. As the angel held the blade up. “The last image you will see is your own intestines outside of your body.”

Quick, he just wanted a quick death but hell maybe he deserved a slow one. At least, there was one fact that wouldn’t change, no matter how much pain he would or wouldn’t be put through, at the end, he’d be set free of this world. Free of his father and his trauma and everything that haunted his dreams.

In a swift and accurate movement, the angel swiped at his abdomen but at the same time was jolted backwards. Dean shuddered as his flesh tore and blood poured out.

He sank to the floor half resting on the base of the tree. He watched as Castiel threw the angel against the ground, kicking him then taking out his own angel blade, swinging his arm with force and jabbing it through his heart. Even dead, the angel’s eyes and mouth opened, glowing a bright white light before fading.

Cas rushed over to Dean squatting at his side. Worry and concern relishing in his features. Cas placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. Dean squirmed, trying to inch away from his grasp, he was to scared, to fucking scared. Dean was starting to become confused and disoriented. White spotted in his vision and a sharp pain blasted at his stomach.

“It's okay, I'm not here to hurt you. It's me, Dean. Your angel. Cas.” Cas’ voice was soft, but his eyes were laced with apprehension for what damage had been caused. He whispered little soothing nothings into Dean’s ear in hope they would coax Dean to let him help.

“Let me see your wound.” Cas slid a hand to the hem of Dean’s shirt readying to gently reveal the wound, but Dean pulled away, fighting off Cas’ hands. Cas withdrew trying to assess the wound from where he was. But all that he could see was red and a shit lot of it too.

“’m fine!” Dean shouted but his was voice hoarse with pain. There it was, his favourite phrase ‘’m fine,’ but the sad part was; he used it most of the time when he knew he wasn’t. It hurt like nothing he ever felt before. Everything was shaking and he gritted his teeth begging for the pain to stop. He didn’t want Cas to see it. He didn’t even want to see it himself. Right now, he could just pretend he’d gone through worse and just hope that it was okay. Even though he could feel the warmth of his own blood while his mind drifted and red stained his clothes and deep down, he knew it was bad.

“No, you're not, let me help.” Cas stared intensely at him, his beaming blue eyes grounding Dean but not yet conquering his acceptance. Dean tightened clutching his middle.

“Go away! I refuse to be a burden. I can patch myself up.”

Without warning Cas made the decision for Dean and drew closer once again. Dean swatted Cas’ hands away.

“Dean! Stop fighting me. I swear to god if you die, and I had an opportunity to help you-….. I can’t let that happen.”

Dean’s stomach radiated with pain and his eye lids felt heavy. Deep down he knew that he couldn’t afford to fight Castiel any longer.

Cas made eye contact with Dean giving him a serious look as a warning before he returned his gaze back to the wound and grabbed the bottom of Dean’s shirt. He half expected Dean to wriggle and object. When Dean didn’t do either of those things, Cas carefully lifted his shirt and started to analyse to damage, Dean winced as the fabric separated but too quietly for Cas to stop what he was doing.

Cas’ stomach turned at the sight of Dean’s torn flesh and the blood that pooled in the wound. It sickened him that this had happened to Dean and how much pain he was in. He’d do anything to take it away, to go back to before he was struck. If only Cas had reacted faster, killed the angel sooner, stayed at Dean’s side, this never would have ended like this.

It was deep and thin, running in a straight line from side to side on an angle but it didn’t seem to have hit anything vital. Cas knew how painful it would be, but Dean was doing his best to hide it. Bless him.

Cas would have to act quickly to stop the bleeding and prevent infection. Out here, infection killed far more than anything. The process was so tediously slow, losing each bit of themselves as it spread. He couldn’t let Dean have that kind of death, not if he was the only one who had enough decency to stay by his side so he wouldn’t die alone. Not when he’d have to watch every bit of his prolonged suffering. Cas’ mind sharped, he knew what he needed to do.

In a rapid action, Cas removed his trench coat, unbuttoned the clean shirt beneath and pressed it into the wound. Not caring that he was now shirtless and exposed.

“SON OF A BITCH.” Dean cried out, arching forward as Castiel elevated the pressure slightly. Right beneath Cas’ hands, he could feel Dean’s whole-body tense up. He tried to be as gentle as possible, but everything caused Dean agony despite his briskly fading ‘tough guy act’.

“Breathe.”

“What do you think I'm doing!?”

Castiel froze, unsure of what to do next. He glimpsed over his shoulder for anything that might come in use.

Must save Dean. Anything to save Dean.

“Keep pressure to stop the bleeding and try to be as still as possible.” Cas’ eyes met Dean’s for heartbeat. He took one of Dean’s hands by the wrist and pushed it on top. Dean groaned but didn’t take his hand away, following Cas’ words.

Cas left, bolting towards Dean’s bag a few trees away. He grabbed it and rushed back, opening it at Dean’s side. Cas tipped it upside down, all it’s contents spewing out before him. Cas turned back to Dean.

“This will be painful.”

Dean watched as Cas took out another clean shirt, this one smaller and scrunched up to fit in his hand. Not so long later, it was dabbed with a bit of cool water. Dean tried to ready himself in his mind as Cas lifted his now soaked shirt and started to work. Dean still hadn’t managed to look, purely based on what terrifying gory site he might see.

Try not to hurt him.

Cas put a hand on either side, stretching the skin in different ways to get a better view and to determine how deep it was. Dean let out a small shudder, eyes scrunched up, bearing it. Cas kept muttering apologises to Dean. It looked like the blade had narrowly missed any internal damage and only the skin was torn. There were, however, little bits of dirt that must have been flicked in there when Dean fell. Cas would have to remove them and thoroughly clean the wound.

Have to stop infection.

“The wound is too deep; there is too much blood, it needs to be sealed.” Cas tried not to let on the urgency of the matter. He was losing blood pretty quickly and Cas was too weak to heal him.

Cas grabbed the nearby shirt he had just splashed with cool water and used it to gently clean the wound and stem the flow of blood. Dean flinched with every touch. That made it a lot harder for Cas to do what needed to be done. By now, Dean had pulled both hands up, twisting his fingers around Cas strong arms trying to pry him away. He was gripping so tightly that Cas was sure it would bruise but also sure that somewhere in his pain struck mind, he couldn’t help it.

I’m so sorry Dean. I’m so fucking sorry.

“You got to relax; you’ll bleed out faster if you don’t.” Cas mentioned.

“Well, you try... AH.”

Dean felt as Cas pushed the material further into the wound causing a streak of pain that slowly expanded to every fibre in his being. He began to turn, trying to curl up into a ball but Cas managed to keep him on his back.

“You have to stay still.” He reminded Dean again.

Stop hurting him.

As Cas worked, he could feel his hands shaking with adrenaline and fear, but he pushed those feelings aside and focused on the task at hand. A sigh escaped Cas’ lips. He would have to put quite a lot of pressure on, in order to clean it properly, but Dean was in so much pain with even the slightest touch. Cas didn’t want to do it. Why was he the one to have to do this? Cas tapped a finger on Dean’s chest, trying to think. It only took an instant for the idea to come to his head but another for him to decide to go through with it. Cauterisation. It would be extremely painful but the only way to save Dean’s life.

Don’t do this, please don’t do this.

He hated himself for considering causing Dean that much pain. But he had to. Without a second more to dwell on the possibility's, Cas trusted his own judgement and reached for a lighter amid the other contents. He slid his angel blade from his sleeve, created a small fire and placed it in there. Dean, relaxed for a moment with the pressure suddenly gone, but there was also a doubt in his mind.

“Hey, hey, hey, Cas what ya doin?” Dean’s face was growing pale. It could have been a mix of fear and blood loss, but he didn’t know. The forest started to spin, his mind confused and panicked. His head lay on its side, eye’s running over the fire and the angel blade inside it. Cas turned to him and shifted obstructing his view.

Must save him.

“I’m so sorry.” Cas spoke, he didn’t answer Dean’s question, but he knew he would have too soon.

While Cas waited for it to heat up, he went back cleaning Dean’s wound. This time Dean didn’t try to pull his hands off, but he did whimper. Cas watched him blink away the wetness in his eyes. This, Cas hated but he knew he’d hate the bit that followed even more.

“I know it's scary, but I promise I won't hurt you. We need to clean the wound, stop the bleeding and prevent infection.” His voice was like an automatised message, at least this way Dean couldn’t sense all the feelings that swirled in Cas’ mind. The ones of worry and dread and most of all horror. He tried to just go for it and get it over with, but Dean let out a low sharp sound as Cas grazed the shirt over the opening. Cas couldn’t stop his hand from pulling away. He despised hurting Dean.

Find something to take his pain away.

“How's your days been?”

Dean croaked confused, “W'at?”

“I’m trying to distract you from the pain. So, how's your day been?” Cas was ready with the shirt, waiting for Dean to be slightly distracted before he did it.

“Peachy.” Cas smiled slightly, even in a vulnerable state, Dean was still Dean, witty comments and all. “Look oka’, I can handle the pain, I don’t need you to hold m’ hand. Just get it over w’th.”

“Alright, as you wish.”

Cas didn’t hold back; he found the will to do what was necessary. He pushed it deep into the flesh to clean it properly, trying to ignore Dean’s grunts that came deep from within his throat.

Dean gasped as Cas pulled away. Cas threw the shirt aside and lay a hand on Dean’s shoulder, comforting him, giving him a few breaths to recover. Then he turned around and took the angel blade out of the embers, its tip glowing bright red.

Don’t hurt him.

“Dean I need you to stay very still for this.”

“Wha’ r ya doin’ w’th that?” Dean slurred. There was a certain hollowness in his voice like he already knew the answer but needed someone to say it aloud. A hollowness like he was giving up fighting.

“Cas!”

Cas caved. “I need to cauterize it, it’s the only way I can stop the blood loss and prevent infection.”

“Don’t do th’s.” Dean started to wiggle, begging his tired and fatigued limbs to sprint into action even though he knew they wouldn’t. Dean’s back was already pressed up slightly against the tree trunk there was nowhere else to go. Cas held him down with his other hand, his knees digging into Dean’s thighs, immobilising them. The burning blade approaching. There was a moment amidst the struggle, where both of their eyes locked on each other. Dean’s expression so broken it shattered a piece of Cas’ heart right then and there.

Don’t hurt him. Must save him.

“Please, 'm begg’ng you, I don’t w’nt th’s.” The same hollowness surrounded his words but this time they sounded so much thicker. But Cas couldn’t let himself let go, Dean meant more then he realised, he loved him. He couldn’t let him die, not without existing every possible solution.

“This will hurt me more than it hurts you.” Cas placed a stick in Dean’s mouth, shutting out his words. Dean’s eyes gleamed up at him, now he was begging. Begging not to suffer, begging for there to be literally any other option. But Cas didn’t see, he didn’t want to.

You have to do this, it’s the only way.

“I’m sorry. Look at the sky, anywhere but here. If you have a happy place in your mind, then go there. Brace yourself. I’m so so sorry.” Dean was shaking his head, still trying to free himself. A wet sound escaped Dean’s throat, one that Cas would never forget.

Cas let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He was almost in disbelief at what he was about to do. A moment later, he carefully placed the blade against the wound, and there was a sizzling sound as the wound began to seal shut. Dean screamed in agony, tears streaming down his face. His body trembling with pain and the veins of his neck popped out. He thrashed against Cas’ hold. Every cry seemed to echo through the forest, bouncing off the trees and landscape.

You're hurting him. Stop, dammit! Cas begged himself internally.

Cas could barely bring himself to watch. It took all of Cas’s willpower to keep his hand there. All of his instincts were shouting at him to stop, that he was hurting his human, but he knew that he had to keep going. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, a sickening smell.

As he worked, his mind raced with worry and concern. What if he made a mistake?

“Stop. Please.” Dean cried between gasps; his voice was muffled through the stick. Cas pulled away for a second, the skin beneath red and tender. In those horrible minutes, whatever bond had sprung up between him and Cas hadn’t broken. Cas had switched loyalties – he'd chosen to stand for Dean, fight for him. At any cost.

Save him. Save your human.

“Honeybee, I know it hurts but it’s imperative that I do this.” And the blade touched his skin once more. Cas could almost feel Dean's pain vibrating though his body, and it broke his heart to see him in such a state. The pet name just slipped out of his mouth, but he hoped it was comforting nonetheless.

“Please… stop ‘t… please…”

“Just breath. You're doing great. Just a little bit longer.” Cas soothed. Even in pain, Dean was breath-taking. His eyes were the colour of the leaves, and his hair shimmered like gold in the fading light. Cas felt his heart racing as he realized how close they were, and how much he meant.

“All done!” Dean lay still, slowly recovering from the pain, his face still contorted in agony. Even though Dean had stopped screaming, it all that Cas could hear.

You made him scream like that.

Cas immediately began to apply a homemade salve of pine sap, aloe vera and other natural ingredients to the wound, rubbing it as deep as he could while Dean strained and fought to get away from the hands that were hurting him. Afterwards Cas wrapped it up lightly with clean cloth.

Even though Cas knew that his intentions were good, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d betrayed Dean. He wanted to apologize, to make things right, but he didn't even know where to begin. How could he make up for the pain and fear he caused? How could he make Dean feel safe around him again? His thoughts dissolved the second he forced his eyes down to meet Dean’s. He expected Dean to look at him like he was a monster but instead, Dean’s face teemed with gratitude.

Don’t be fooled by his eyes, there's no way that he could trust you after that.

Then Dean, the solider he was, was trying to raise but Cas quickly pushed a firm hand down on his chest to keep him still.

“You have to rest, let your body heal. It will be a slow process but hopefully I can speed it up when my powers get stronger.”

#dean winchester x castiel #dean winchester #castiel #dean Winchester whump #hurt dean Winchester #supernatural #destiel #whump #caretaker x whumpee #whump fic #cauterization #injury #blood loss #cw: gore #hurt to heal #accidental torture #caretaker castiel

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i-whump-dat · 2 years ago

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I just realized I have a very specific whumperflies trigger!

Take this gorgeous example from Supernatural S1E22 - Dean is so hurt and weak, the camera is just behind him as he struggles just to breathe through the pain~~~

There's gotta be a word for it - sideways breathing? Idk, if you got more examples list them in the comments and I shall hunt down the clips 😉

#whumperflies #whump #supernatural whump #blood loss #weak #barely holding on #hurt dean winchester #barely breathing

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saiacross · 1 year ago

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Bonds Unveiled

Supernatural FanFic: 7,258: Words: Series: Reader-Insert

Chapter 10: Young Sam

This Work is part of an overarching story that can be read as a one-shot with little overlapping information from other chapters.

⬅ Chapter 9 Hallucinations💜 Chapter 11 Together Again ⚠️ Dean ➡ Master List

Chapter 10: Young Sam Our trio has caught onto a case that, even after it was dealt with, continues to tear a riff among the brothers and Y/N. Sam is affected by a spell that brings back painful memories for Dean that cause him to speak his true feelings to Y/N about how he sees her. But that won't stop her from being there for Sam, as long as he needs her. Hurt Dean.

Dean had his hands firmly gripped on the steering wheel as the Impala raced down the highway, the wind rushing through the open windows. Sam, sitting shotgun, was focused on his laptop, scanning through various reports and news articles. Y/N, in the backseat, watched the scenery pass by, her thoughts wandering.

As they crossed the state line into Iowa, Sam's eyes widened as he stumbled upon an intriguing article. He turned to face Dean and Y/N, his expression a mix of excitement and concern.

"Guys, so get this," Sam interrupted the quiet rumble of the engine, turning his head to face Dean and Y/N. "I think we're dealing with a witch here. The reports mention incidents happening around town; an herbal shop was robbed in the middle of the night but no money was taken, dead ravens are being found all over town picked clean of their feathers, a lady got into a fight with someone over Black Salt, and……. a flower shop was held at gunpoint for it vervain and moonflowers ."

Dean nodded, his focus shifting from the road to Sam. "A witch, huh? Well, we've tangled with those before. What's the deal with these ingredients, that’s definitely not your typical grocery list."

Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Some witches are so stuck up, their ingredients always have to be as fresh as possible, what's wrong with just hitting up the grocery store? It’s the same shit ." Her annoyance seeped into her voice, and she crossed her arms in frustration.

Dean chuckled at Y/N's comment, finding her straightforward approach amusing. "Yeah, those witches with their gourmet spells, right?" he joked.

Sam shot a smile at Y/N, trying to lighten the mood. "Hey, I get it. It can be annoying, but some spells require specific ingredients for their potency. We just need to figure out what this witch is up to and stop them before it's too late."

With curiosity and determination in her eyes, Y/N pulled out her phone and dialed Angelique's number. As the phone rang, Sam and Dean watched her with interest, curious to see what her plan was.

“What better way to figure out what a Witch is doing than to ask a Witch?” Y/N had said to Dean and Sam when she noticed them watching her. Angelique, being an experienced and knowledgeable witch, could possibly shed light on the mysterious ingredients and the purpose of the spell.

"Hello?" Angelique's voice came through the phone. Y/N wasted no time and launched into an explanation.

"Hey, Angelique! It's Y/N, you’re on speaker and the guys are here. We're in Seymour, Iowa, and there's some weird witch activity going on here. We suspect someone is collecting ingredients for a powerful spell or ritual."

Intrigued, Angelique listened carefully, "Go on."

Y/N proceeded to read off the list of ingredients they had gathered so far—mandrake root, vervain, raven feathers, black salt, and moonflower petals. Each word she uttered carried a sense of wonder and puzzlement, hoping Angelique might recognize the combination.

After a moment of silence, Angelique responded, her voice serious and contemplative, "Hmm, that's quite an interesting mix of ingredients. Mandrake root and vervain are often used in protection spells, while raven feathers symbolize transformation. Black salt is for warding off negative energies, and moonflower petals can enhance psychic abilities. It's not a common combination, and without further information, it's hard to pinpoint the exact spell."

As Angelique pondered further over the list of ingredients Y/N had provided, her expression shifted from curiosity to concern. She read off the initial purposes for each component—the protection spells, transformation, warding, and enhancement of psychic abilities. But then, as her keen witch's intuition kicked in, she noticed a dark undertone associated with the vervain.

Her mind raced, connecting the dots between the ingredients and the history of the area. There were whispers of witches who had once practiced dark arts and rituals that involved raising the dead. As this understanding settled in, Angelique's voice became more urgent as she continued her explanation to Y/N.

"Y/N, listen carefully. The combination of ingredients you mentioned, particularly the vervain, hints at something far darker than we initially thought. Considering the history of Seymour and the potential intentions behind the spell, I'm almost certain the witch is trying to raise someone from the dead."

Y/N's eyes widened with a mix of shock and concern. The gravity of the situation was sinking in, and she knew they had to act quickly. "Raising the dead?”

“Listen, Resurrection spells are incredibly powerful and can disturb the natural balance. The witch must have a black candle on their altar, a symbol of the void that connects the realms of life and death. If they succeed in this ritual, the consequences could be disastrous."

Y/N's focus was sharp as she listened intently to Angelique's warning about the black candle. The gravity of the situation settled in her mind as she processed the potential consequences of such a dark spell. With determination in her voice, Y/N asked the important question, "Alright, so the candle is probably at their altar at their house?"

Y/N turned her attention to Sam, knowing that his research skills were invaluable in situations like this. With a look of hopefulness in her eyes, she asked, "Sam, do any of the articles mention the person who has been causing trouble?"

Before Sam could respond verbally, his fingers were already dancing across his keyboard, searching for any relevant information. The atmosphere in the Impala was filled with a mix of anticipation and urgency as they awaited Sam's findings.

"Got something," he said, his voice filled with determination. “Rebecca Thomson was caught on camera fleeing the salt incident. She's lived there for years, but hardly anyone ever sees her in town. She keeps to herself and avoids contact with others."

“Has she lost anyone close to her recently?” Y/N asked Sam.

“Her husband passed about 3 months ago, he was buried in the town cemetery.” Sam would explain to the others.

“Sound’s like our witch!” Dean would nod as he spoke.

Y/N's heart sank as she realized the pain that the witch must have endured after losing her husband just three months ago. The grief could have been the catalyst for Agnes seeking to resurrect him through dark magic. Y/N would sigh heavily.

Sam glanced back at Y/N, reading her unspoken thoughts written on her face.

Sam nodded in agreement. "It's understandable, but we can't let her go down this dark path. It could have severe consequences for everyone."

Y/N took a deep breath, preparing herself mentally for what was to come. "So, the graveyard where her husband is buried... That's where we'll find her?"

Sam nodded. "It's likely. She might be visiting his grave so to be there when he raises."

Dean's sudden change in demeanor caught both Sam and Y/N off guard. Sam glanced out the windshield, taking note of the rapidly approaching storm. The air grew heavy with tension as lightning continued to illuminate the darkening sky.

"Alright then, Sam and I will head to the graveyard, Y/N head to her house and see if you can’t find this candle. We’ll put an end to this before it gets worse."

Sam watched the unnatural storm overhead as they pulled into town, concern etched on his face. "Y/N, be careful. We don't know what we're dealing with here. If things get too dangerous, don't hesitate to call for backup."

"I've got this, Sam. Just focus on stopping the witch at the graveyard. We'll regroup afterward." Y/N was also intrigued but the magically enhanced clouds overhead.

"Alright, let's move. Time is running out." Dean parked the car with a jolt. With a sense of urgency, they all exited the Impala, each heading toward their assigned tasks. Dean and Sam rushed toward the direction of the graveyard, leaving Y/N to tackle the mission at the witch's house.

As Y/N made her way towards the house, she could feel the energy in the air intensify. The wind howled, leaves rustled, and the scent of rain permeated the atmosphere. It was as if the elements themselves were stirred by the impending clash between light and darkness.

Approaching the witch's house, Y/N steeled herself, knowing that she had to act swiftly. She took a deep breath, mentally preparing for what she might encounter inside.

Entering the house, the air felt heavy, as if it held the remnants of the witch's dark magic. Y/N's heart raced, but she pushed forward, determined to locate the black candle and disrupt the witch's plans.

Room by room, Y/N searched diligently, her senses on high alert. Every creak of the floorboards and flicker of shadow intensified her focus. Finally, in a dimly lit room at the back of the house, she discovered the altar adorned with various items, including the ominous black candle.

Y/N approached the altar cautiously, mindful of the power it contained. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and carefully extinguished the flame. As the black candle's dark magic dissipated, Y/N felt a surge of relief and a renewed sense of purpose.

But just as she turned to leave, a chilling voice echoed through the room. "You shouldn't have interfered."

Y/N's heart raced as she spun around, only to find the witch standing in the doorway, her eyes filled with anger and determination. It was a showdown between light and dark, and Y/N knew she had to stand her ground.

"I won't let you raise the dead," Y/N said, her voice steady despite the fear that coursed through her veins. "There's always another way to find closure."

The witch's laughter filled the room, sending shivers down Y/N's spine. But she held her ground, ready to protect the innocent and ensure that the dark magic was thwarted.

As the storm raged outside, the battle of wills unfolded inside the witch's house. Y/N's determination, paired with her newfound understanding of the witch's grief, became her strength in the face of darkness.

Meanwhile, Dean and Sam faced their own witch in the graveyard. But with their skills, they fought valiantly, determined to put an end to the witch's dangerous intentions.

The battles raged on in separate confrontations, each group unaware of the other's encounter with the witches. Y/N stood her ground against the daughter, desperately attempting to reach her humanity.

"Please, you have to stop this," Y/N pleaded, her voice laced with urgency. "The spell won't bring him back. It will only bring more pain and darkness."

The daughter's eyes burned with a mixture of grief and anger as she raised her hands, channeling her dark powers. "You don't understand my pain! I won't let him go!"

Y/N's heart sank as she realized that reasoning with the daughter was futile. With a heavy heart and a determined spirit, she reluctantly took action, engaging in a fierce battle to defeat the young witch. The clash of magic and physical blows echoed through the house, each strike carrying the weight of the daughter's desperation and Y/N's determination to protect the innocent.

Meanwhile, Dean and Sam faced off against the formidable mother witch, their own fight testing their skills and resilience. They fought with relentless determination, countering the mother with their own arsenal of weapons. The air crackled with energy as the hunters and the witch clashed, the room vibrating with their struggle.

As Y/N's battle reached its climax, her final strike broke through the daughter's defenses, bringing an end to the young witch's life. In that instant, a surge of energy pulsed through the house, severing the bond between mother and daughter.

The dark storm that had engulfed the area suddenly dissipated, replaced by calm and tranquility. The oppressive atmosphere lifted, and the house returned to its normal state, free from the taint of dark magic.

However, the mother witch, sensing the loss of her daughter and the crumbling of her spell, took advantage of the chaos and managed to escape, vanishing into the night but not before one final spell.

Breathing heavily, Y/N took a moment to collect herself, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and sorrow. She had done what was necessary, but the weight of the consequences settled upon her shoulders.

Y/N took a moment to compose herself, her eyes lingering on the family photos adorning the walls. The reminders of happier times only emphasized the tragedy that had unfolded. Just as she was about to leave the room, her phone suddenly rang, its sound cutting through the silence.

Startled, Y/N quickly retrieved her phone from her pocket and glanced at the caller ID. Dean's name flashed on the screen, and she wasted no time in answering the call.

"Dean," Y/N greeted, her voice filled with a mix of relief and concern. "The witch was here. I believe she was the daughter."

Dean's voice came through the phone, filled with urgency. "Yeah, the mother got away. Listen, you know that shady motel we passed on the way in, meet me there. We've got a situation."

Y/N's heart raced, her worry intensifying at Dean's words. She knew that if Dean deemed it necessary something serious must have occurred.

"Understood," Y/N replied, her voice steady despite the underlying anxiety. "I'm on my way.”

The call ended, and Y/N wasted no time in rushing out of the house. Her mind raced with possibilities, her concern for the safety of Dean and Sam consuming her thoughts. She hurriedly made her way to the Impala, her footsteps echoing with a mix of determination and trepidation.

As she approached the iconic black car, her eyes scanned the area, searching for any signs of trouble. She couldn't help but worry about what awaited her, praying that the situation hadn't taken a turn for the worse. Just as she was about to call out their names, the door of the nearby motel swung open, revealing Dean standing at the entrance. He waved her over, gesturing for her to come inside.

Curiosity piqued, Y/N approached the motel room, her steps cautious yet eager. Dean closed the door behind her, creating a sense of privacy. Inside Y/N was greeted by a small boy, no older than seven years old. His innocent eyes sparkled with curiosity as he looked up at her.

"Hello," the boy greeted, his voice filled with warmth and friendliness.

Caught off guard by the unexpected encounter, Y/N stumbled over her words for a moment. She crouched down to the boy's level, a mix of surprise and curiosity etched on her face.

"Well, hello there," Y/N finally managed to respond, a gentle smile forming on her lips. "What's your name?"

The boy's smile grew wider as he proudly announced, "I'm Samuel, but my dad and brother call me Sammy."

Y/N's eyes widened in astonishment, her heart skipping a beat. The significance of the name and the boy's familiarity hit her like a wave. She could hardly believe what she was hearing.

"Sammy," Y/N repeated, her voice filled with a mix of disbelief and wonder. "What's your last name, Sammy?"

The boy's smile remained, and he proudly declared, "Winchester."

Y/N slowly straightened herself up, her mind swirling with a whirlwind of emotions. She turned to face Dean, her eyes filled with disbelief and confusion. The words she wanted to shout at him came out as a barely audible whisper.

"Dean!"

Dean, standing just behind Y/N, nodded his head in acknowledgment.

“I know.” his expression mirroring the weight of the situation.

Y/N struggled to find her voice, her mind racing with a multitude of questions.

“How?” She managed to utter a few fragmented words.

“I don’t know.” Dean sighed heavily, his frustration evident. He shook his head, his brows furrowed in uncertainty.

“Does he?” Y/N's voice was still a hushed whisper.

“No, he does not.” Dean's response was filled with resignation.

Suddenly, the small child, Sammy, chimed in with a curious question. "Are you Dean's girlfriend?"

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze shifting back and forth between the innocent face of the child and Dean's frustrated expression. She stumbled over her words, caught off guard by the unexpected question.

"What!?" Y/N exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and confusion.

Dean, growing increasingly frustrated, grabbed Y/N's arm and pulled her towards the door. He glanced back at the child, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy.

"Hey, just wait here for a moment, okay? I need to talk to her in private," Dean instructed the young boy.

As Dean and Y/N stepped out of the motel room, Dean closed the door behind them, ensuring their conversation remained confidential.

"I can't believe this," Y/N finally managed to find her voice though still filled with a mixture of astonishment and disbelief.

Dean's voice dripped with anger as he looked directly at Y/N, his frustration palpable. "Look, I need you to just watch after Sam, alright?" he demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Something like this happened to me once, and I already got the ingredients from Angelique for the reversal."

Y/N felt a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her as she tried to process the rapid progression of events. Confusion etched across her face as she struggled to comprehend Dean's intentions. "But why don't we all go together? It would make performing the reversal spell quicker," she suggested.

Dean's eyes hardened, and he swiftly dismissed Y/N's idea. "No!" he snapped, his voice laced with frustration. "You and Sam need to head back to the bunker while I go get what we need. It's not up for discussion."

Y/N's laughter bubbled up nervously, discomfort creeping into her voice. "Dean, I can't… This… Sam and I, we..." She trailed off, unable to find the right words to express how uncomfortable the situation made her.

Before she could finish her thought, Dean interrupted her, his anger intensifying. "Yeah, I know what happened between you and Sam," he spat, his words told Y/N that he knew more than he should know.

Y/N's feelings quickly shifted from discomfort to confusion as she confronted Dean with her realization. "Wait, Is... Is that why you hate me so much?" Her voice quivered as she posed the question.

Dean rolled his eyes, his anger mounting as he struggled to find the right words. "I don't hate you, Y/N," he snapped, his voice tinged with frustration. "It's just... how I am, alright?"

Determined, Y/N stepped forward, her eyes locked with Dean's as she spoke with conviction. "No, Dean. No, this isn't just how you are," she asserted. "This is how you feel about me. Because this isn't how you are with Angelique, or Charlie, or Jody, or anyone else. You avoid eye contact, you hate being alone together, and you're always pushing me away."

Dean's frustration mingled with a pang of guilt as he struggled to respond. "You don't understand, Y/N," he muttered, his voice tinged with regret. "It's complicated."

Y/N's voice gained strength as she held her ground, refusing to back down. "No, it’s not. You hate me because I accepted Sam's offer for help, you just don’t want to admit it.” Y/N took a deep breath before practically growling at Dean. “I didn't just use him as a meal, I’m not a monster, Dean!"

Dean snapped in that instance, took hold of Y/N by the front of her shirt, and slammed her against the motel door that led to their room.

“YOU don't get to tell me what you are after you fed off my brother's SOUL!” Dean yelled in Y/N’s face. Both Dean and Y/N stared directly into each other's eyes searching for some kind of answer to an unknown question. After several uninterrupted moments of silence, Dean's breathing began to calm.

Dean's jaw remained clenched, his inner turmoil evident as he fought to control his emotions. Slowly he loosened his grip on Y/N knowing he needed to tread carefully, especially for Sam's sake. After a long, tense pause, Dean finally spoke his gaze on the ground now.

"I can't do this right now, alright? I can't have... HIM around me right now." Dean’s voice strained.

Y/N's eyes widened with confusion, searching Dean's face for answers. Her voice trembled slightly as she asked, "What do you mean?"

Dean took a deep breath, his words forced through gritted teeth as he made an effort to convey the depth of his feelings.

"Right now, Sam is about 7 years old," he explained. "He doesn't know ANYTHING about what we do or the world we actually live in. He recognizes me as his brother, but still thinks Dad is in town somewhere, selling things for work."

The weight of Dean's revelation hit Y/N like a heavy blow, her heart sinking lower than she thought possible. The magnitude of the situation began to sink in, and Y/N's voice trembled with a mixture of sadness and disbelief, she leaned his head back against the door as she asked, "So... you mean that... that Sam is still 100% pure?"

Dean nodded solemnly, his eyes filled with a mixture of protectiveness and sorrow. It was a heavy burden to bear, knowing the harsh realities of their lives while Sam remained innocent and unaware.

"Yeah," he confirmed quietly, his voice tinged with sadness. "Sam, right now, is untouched by the craps we’ve been through."

The realization hung heavily in the air, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Y/N felt a surge of both empathy and sadness, understanding the tremendous weight that Dean carried as he tried to shield Sam from their harsh reality.

“Dean, what if… what if we don’t reverse the spell? Then Sam can grow up normal right?” Y/N's voice trembled with uncertainty as she voiced her question, her eyes avoiding direct contact with Dean's gaze. But Y/N knew that he had already considered the possibilities and weighed the options. The silence hung heavy between them, as both of them understood the unspoken answer.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N gathered her resolve. "Alright, Dean. It's about 6 or 7 hours until Kansas from here. I'll make arrangements to get us on the next bus and meet you at the Bunker. Just... don't take too long, okay? And, keep in touch."

Dean took a deep breath, trying to compose himself after the intense confrontation with Y/N. He ran a hand through his hair, a mix of frustration and concern etched on his face as he glanced down at the list of items in his hand.

As Y/N slowly picked herself up from the impact against the door, a small voice broke the tension in the room. The door to their motel room creaked open, revealing the young child version of Sam standing in the doorway, innocence radiating from his eyes.

The child, unaware of the previous altercation, innocently asked, "Are you guys done fighting?" His voice was filled with genuine curiosity and a desire for peace.

Dean's gaze softened as he approached the young Sam, crouching down to be at eye level with him. He placed a hand on the child's shoulder, a mix of affection and protectiveness evident in his touch.

Dean replied with a gentle smile, "Yeah, sorry about that, Sammy. But hey, Y/N here is going to take you home while I go... wrangle in Dad, alright? You can trust her, so do as she says, okay?"

Sam's eyes widened with curiosity as he looked up at Y/N, he moved closer to Dean. "But I want to stay with you, Dean." Sam protested softly, his childlike innocence longing for the comfort and familiarity of his older brother.

Dean's expression softened further, a mixture of love and sadness in his eyes. He spoke with a tender reassurance, "I know ya do Sammy. But right now, it's important that you go with Y/N. She'll keep you safe, just like I would. We'll be together again soon, I promise."

Sam hesitated for a moment, processing Dean's words. With a small nod, he reluctantly took a step towards Y/N, offering her a smile just like when he first met her moments ago.

Dean stood up, watching the interaction between Y/N and young Sam, a mix of emotions playing across his face. He knew the weight of the decision he had made, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of both relief and worry for what lay ahead.

With a final reassuring smile, Dean said, "Take care of him, Y/N. I'll see you both soon." As he headed to the Impala and drove off, watching the two in the rearview.

Y/N and young Sam managed to make it to the local bus station just in time to catch the last ride for the night. As they settled into their seats, the bus engine roared to life, and the vehicle began to move, taking them on their journey.

Young Sam, full of energy and curiosity, looked out the window as he was taking in the changing scenery as they passed by. His eyes widened with wonder, and he couldn't help but ask Y/N a question that had been on his mind.

"Y/N, are you sure you aren't dating my brother?"

Y/N chuckled at the unexpected question, finding the innocence and honesty of young Sam endearing. She turned to face him with a soft smile and replied.

"Oh, I'm very sure, Sammy. Actually, I'm pretty sure your brother hates me." Y/N couldn't help but find humor in the situation, her smile growing wider at the absurdity of it all.

Young Sam looked puzzled for a moment, trying to process Y/N's response.

"Why would Dean hate you?" he asked with genuine confusion, not understanding the complexities of the situation.

Y/N sat next to young Sammy, her heart warming at his innocent curiosity. She did her best to answer his questions honestly while treading carefully with her words.

"Well, Sammy, I did something a while back that your brother doesn't agree with, and it makes him mad," she explained with a knowing smile.

"Yeah, that sounds like Dean," young Sammy chuckled in response.

Curiosity burning in his eyes, young Sammy continued to inquire.

"How long have you known my brother?"

Y/N paused for a moment, considering her response before replying, "I think it's been about five or six months, give or take a little.”

“How did you two meet?”

“At work.” Y/N was beginning to wonder how long this would last. but before he could ask another, Y/N playfully beat him to the punch.

"What's with the twenty-question game here, huh?" she teased with a playful grin. "I'm sure Dean will tell you everything you want to know when he gets back."

Sammy let out an exasperated groan, his frustration evident.

"Dean doesn't tell me anything," he confessed with a hint of annoyance. "They treat me like a child."

Y/N's expression softened as she saw the genuine disappointment in young Sammy's eyes. She placed a comforting hand on top of his head, ruffling his hair.

"I'm sure Dean doesn't mean to keep things from you, Sammy. Sometimes, big brothers can be a bit overprotective, but it's only because they care about you so much."

Sammy looked up at her, his eyes seeking reassurance.

"Really?" he asked with a touch of hope.

"Absolutely," Y/N replied with a warm smile. "Your brother loves you more than anything in the world, and sometimes, he just wants to keep you safe and shield you from some of the harsher things out there."

Sammy seemed to ponder her words for a moment, and then he nodded, accepting her explanation.

"I guess that makes sense," he said, a small smile forming on his face. Y/N pulled the small boy under her arm and against her side while rubbing his arm.

As the bus journey continued, Y/N and young Sammy continued to chat.

The journey home had been long and exhausting, taking Y/N and young Sam a total of 6 hours to reach the town and an additional hour to finally arrive at the bunker. The sun had set, and darkness enveloped the surroundings. Y/N stepped out of the pickup truck they had hired for the final stretch of their journey. She paid the driver and thanked him again, ensuring that he understood she wanted to be left at this spot. Y/N gently pulled a sleeping young Sam out of the vehicle as well and watched the truck drive off.

Carrying the sleepy young boy in her arms, Y/N made her way down the stairs leading to the bunker's entrance hall. As they reached the bottom, young Sam stirred and groaned sleepily. Y/N gently set him down on the couch in the living area of the bunker.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, concern evident in her voice. "I can make some food real quick."

Young Sam rubbed his eyes and nodded drowsily.

"Yeah, I'm kinda hungry," he mumbled.

"Alright, just give me a few minutes, and I'll whip up something for you," she reassured him with a warm smile and patted his head. Y/N headed towards the kitchen area of the bunker, the dim lights casting a comforting glow.

As she prepared a simple meal, Y/N's mind couldn't help but wander back to her conversation with Dean. She knew he was dealing with his own inner turmoil and struggling with the situation at hand. Y/N understood that Dean's anger and protectiveness were driven by his love for his brother, but she also worried about what this meant for her..

Deep in thought, Y/N focused on cooking spaghetti with sausage meat sauce for young Sam. The aroma of food filled the bunker as she finished preparing the meal. Placing a plate in front of young Sam, Y/N smiled at him.

"Here you go, something warm to fill your belly," she said gently.

Young Sam looked up at her, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

"Thanks, Y/N," he said, the trust in his eyes evident.

Y/N ruffled his hair affectionately.

"You're welcome, Sammy. Now eat up," she encouraged him.

As young Sam enjoyed his meal, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility as they sat at the table talking, laughing, and eating together. Sam would even comment on how Y/N’s cooking was better than his brothers, a secret they promised to keep between each other.

The heavy metal door of the bunker swung open, and the sound reverberated through the halls. Dean's voice echoed as he called out to Y/N and Sam while descending the stairs.

"Hey, I'm back," he announced, his tone serious. Dean entered the kitchen area. “Where is Sam?”

Y/N turned her attention away from the dishes she was washing and looked at Dean with a hint of annoyance.

"Hi, welcome home, dear. How was your day?" she replied sarcastically.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What?" he asked, not fully understanding Y/N's response.

With a tired sigh, Y/N explained, "I just put Sam to bed. He's passed out. Did you find everything you needed?"

Dean's expression softened as he realized what she meant.

"Yeah, it took longer than I thought, but I finally got it all," he replied.

Y/N nodded and said, "Good. Well, let me know if you need any help. Otherwise, I left a plate out for you." She motioned to the table where a plate of spaghetti covered with cling wrap sat, waiting for Dean.

Dean paused for a moment feeling conflicted "Right, um.. thanks. I'm.. I’m going to go get this prepped and give it to Sam while he sleeps. Hopefully, this whole thing will just seem like a bad dream when he wakes up," Dean said, determination in his voice.

As Y/N stood in the kitchen, her mind was flooded with conflicting emotions. Watching Dean walk off to take care of young Sam, she couldn't help but feel a sense of heartache at the thought of Sam having to return to a world filled with darkness and danger. His innocent eyes turning dark once more weighed heavily on her heart.

At the same time, a part of Y/N couldn't deny the feeling of normalcy she experienced while spending time with the young boy. The laughter, the curiosity, the innocence—it was a refreshing break from the constant battles they faced as hunters. For a moment, she allowed herself to smile, cherishing the simplicity of that evening.

But amidst her mixed emotions, Y/N felt a growing sense of uncertainty and fear. She knew that with the reversal of the spell, things would change between her and the Winchester brothers. The truths they had buried, the unspoken feelings, the unresolved conflicts—they would all resurface, and the road ahead seemed daunting.

Y/N's smile faded as she contemplated the challenges ahead. It wasn't that she didn't want Sam to regain his true identity as the caring man she knew, but she feared what it would mean for their already complicated relationship. The thought of facing hurt, anger, and the potential for more fights weighed heavily on her mind.

At that moment, the idea of leaving crossed her mind. It felt like an escape, a way to avoid the pain and uncertainty that lay ahead.

The next morning, as the sun began to rise, Dean slowly woke from his slumber and sluggishly made his way into the kitchen. As he stood in the doorway, he was met with a surprising sight. The table before him was filled with a feast of delicious food—eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, hash browns, fruit, and a fresh pot of coffee. It was a spread that would have put a smile on anyone's face.

Dean's eyes scanned the kitchen, half-expecting to see his brother Sam cooking up a storm. However, he was met with the sight of Y/N instead. She stood near the stove, working on placing a few more pancakes on the table. Dean walked over to the table, still feeling a bit groggy, and couldn't help but ask, "What's all this?"

Y/N turned towards him, a hint of forced cheerfulness in her voice.

"Well, I didn't know if we would have young Sam or adult Sam this morning, so I figured what the hell—we will either celebrate or eat our stress away." She half-heartedly joked, attempting to force a laugh, but it was clear that there was more going on beneath the surface.

Dean studied her for a moment, not easily fooled by her act. He could sense that something was off.

"You never went to bed last night, did you?"

Y/N paused for a moment, her gaze lingering on the stove as she turned it off. She finally turned to face Dean, the facade of strength slipping away, and quietly admitted, "No." Her eyes reflected the exhaustion she felt, both physically and emotionally.

Silence lingered in the kitchen until Sam's voice suddenly broke the stillness.

"Morning," he said quietly, stepping further into the room. Dean turned to look at his brother, a mix of relief evident in his expression. Without hesitation, Dean walked over to Sam and pulled him into a tight hug, patting him a few times on the back. Sam returned the hug, but he didn't say anything, his emotions still a whirlwind after his recent ordeal.

Y/N watched the brothers reunite, a bittersweet feeling settling within her. She was glad that Sam was back to his normal self, but the weight of the past night's events still bore down on her. As she turned away, about to leave the room.

“Y/N, wait.” Sam's voice called to her.

She turned around just in time to find herself enveloped in Sam's arms, his embrace pulling her close against his chest. The warmth of his hug was comforting, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within her. With a deep breath, Sam said, "Thank you.”

“Sam, I didn’t….” Y/N began to explain it was Dean who did all the work for the reversal spell.

“I remember everything.” Sam cut her off. Y/N's eyes widened in surprise at his words. She hadn't expected him to remember, and her heart skipped a beat. It was a lot to process, and she found herself momentarily at a loss for words. Sam continued to hold her, his gratitude evident in his embrace.

Finally finding her voice, Y/N whispered, "You remember... everything?"

Sam nodded, his eyes meeting hers with newfound clarity. "Yeah," he confirmed, a hint of wonder in his tone as he pulled away from her.

Dean, who had been quietly observing the exchange, approached them both. "That's good, Sammy," he said, smiling warmly at his brother trying to play off the hurt he felt watching his brother thank Y/N. "We were worried about you."

Dean noticed the hurt in Sam's eyes, and his confusion grew. He knew his brother was still processing the rush of memories that had returned, but he didn't expect this reaction.

"What, Sam?" Dean asked, genuinely concerned.

Sam hesitated, trying to gather his thoughts and find the right words to express himself. His emotions were evident on his face, and his jaw tightened, his nose flared. Finally, Sam managed to say, "Dean, can I see you in the other room for a moment? Now?"

Dean's brows furrowed further, but he nodded, understanding the need for privacy. He glanced at Y/N, who had been quietly observing the scene. With a concerned look, Dean followed Sam to a more secluded area of the bunker.

Once they were alone, Dean closed the door behind them and turned to face his brother.

"Alright, Sam, what's going on?" he asked, giving his brother his full attention.

The air in the bunker felt tense as Sam confronted Dean about his actions with Y/N. Sam's eyes were filled with disappointment and hurt as he recounted what he had witnessed through the motel window.

"Dean, I saw you and Y/N through the window at the motel," Sam began, his voice serious. "I heard what you said to her."

But Sam wasn't willing to let him off the hook so easily.

"You pinned her to the wall, Dean!" Sam exclaimed, his voice rising with frustration.

Dean's shoulders slumped as he realized there was no defense for what he had done. He knew he had crossed a line, but in that moment of anger, he couldn't control himself.

"I appreciate you getting the spell for me, I really do, man," Sam began, his voice softening. "But this has to stop. Even after everything you did and said, she STILL took care of me when you asked her to…. More than you know."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" he asked, genuinely curious about what his brother was trying to say.

Sam took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express himself.

"It was like... it felt like... what I imagine having mom around would have been like," he finally said, his voice tinged with emotion.

“Dude…” Dean’s face twisted as he became grossed out by the thought.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s reaction.

“She was warm, loving, caring. She talked to me like I was an actual person not just some kid, let me lean against her to sleep, cooked dinner for me. A real dinner Dean. We laughed and she even made sure I got to bed. All the things that I didn't get to experience with Mom.”

Dean still shook his head, trying to not let the weird thoughts in. “Dude come on you've slept with her."

“Dean you are missing the point! Yes, we slept in the same bed, but nothing happened. We didn't... You know, not really." Sam sighed again.

“The point is that you need to get over yourself because whether you believe it or not we are better with her around and you are going to be the reason she leaves.” Sam paused. “And I don’t know if I can forgive you for that.”

Silence fell among the two brothers just before Sam turned to leave Dean with that thought.

Sam sighed as he walked into the kitchen, his mind still preoccupied with the conversation he just had with his brother. He had left Dean in the other room to give them both some space to process everything that had happened. As he looked around the kitchen, he couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness.

"Y/N?" Sam called out, half-hoping she would magically appear, but there was no response. His eyes then caught a piece of paper on the table, and he picked it up with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Sam's heart sank as he read Y/N's note.

"No, no, no," Sam muttered to himself, crumpling the note in his hands with frustration. He had grown attached to Y/N during their time together, and the thought of her leaving hurt more than he anticipated. Sam sank into one of the kitchen chairs, his head in his hands, trying to process the sudden turn of events. A wave of sadness washed over him.

Dean emerged from the other room to find Sam sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands. Concern etched on his face, he approached his brother.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Dean asked, worried.

Sam didn’t look up, frustration and disappointment clear in his eyes. He held out the crumpled note to Dean.

"She's gone, Dean. Y/N left," he said, his voice tinged with sadness.

Dean unfolded the note and read its contents.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I can't stay and be the reason for your fights. I'll always care about you and Sam, but it's just too much. Take care." Dean's jaw tightened as he read the words.

He looked back at Sam, feeling a mixture of emotions. "Dammit," he muttered. "I'll go find her," he said firmly, wanting to make things right.

Dean headed up the stairs, determined to find Y/N and talk things through with her. As he reached the bunker's main door, he threw it open without hesitation and charged ahead.

Meanwhile, Sam remained at the table, his mind filled with worry and uncertainty. He stared at the feast Y/N had prepared for them, the food now feeling bittersweet in light of her sudden departure. He couldn't help but replay the moments they had spent together in his mind, the warmth and care Y/N had shown him. It was clear that she had touched his heart in a way he hadn't expected.

Sam found himself lost in thought, unsure of what the future held. All he could do was hope that they would find a way to mend things with Y/N and that she would be willing to give them another chance.

End Chapter

#supernatural #fanfic #supernatural fanfic #Dean x OFC x Sam #dean winchester #Fluff #Sam Winchester #Hurt/Comfort #Reader-Insert #Illness #Self-Insert #Angst #Kitsune #injuries #Dean x Reader X Sam #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #Trauma #Young Sam Winchester #Hurt Dean Winchester

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masoena · 1 month ago

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A canon Dean whump mini collection- season 6. Thanks Robo Sam

Dean Winchester + Monsters in Season 6

6.01 Exile on Main St, written by Sera Gamble 6.05 Live Free or Twihard, written by Brett Matthews 6.10 Caged Heat, written by Brett Matthews and Jenny Klein 6.19 Mommy Dearest, written by Adam Glass 6.21 Let It Bleed, written by Sera Gamble

#gifs #supernatural season 6 #hurt dean winchester #dean winchester in peril #dean winchester

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 10 months ago

Text

Damage Control - 1x12 Faith

Dean is so unlike Dean when they leave for Nebraska the next morning, it hurts to see. He’s acting like Dean - the bravado, the self-deprecating jokes, the refusal to accept help - but he’s so weak that it’s a complete shit show, and Sam can see right through it. His brother moves like an octogenarian, slowly and using every surface his hands find for support. When he comes out of the shower, he has to sit down and catch his breath, his lips tinged blue, and no amount of complaining about the water pressure or claiming that all he needs is coffee will mask his frailty. Frailty. Not a word Sam thought he’d ever use for his unstoppable brother, but here it is.

Sam inconspicuously helps him pack, placing Dean’s items within reach to speed up the process. When they’re finally in the car, Sam insists on two stops - one for a healthy breakfast to go, and one at the hospital to pick up the medication Dean left behind when he checked himself out. One of them - a diuretic to take the strain off Dean’s ailing heart - makes him have to pee every hour or so, and the jokes about it quickly turn into sullen silence when they have to stop at yet another gas station.

Dean sleeps a lot between bathroom breaks, and while he’s always been able to immediately drop into slumber in the safety of the Impala, no matter how uncomfortable his position in the passenger seat, it’s a different kind of sleep now. Not the deep-breathing, childlike oblivion Dean usually has about him, all fanning lashes, parted lips and loose limbs. Now, his shallow breathing is barely audible, his brow is furrowed, and he looks so grey that Sam feels the urge to check his pulse every now and then.

How did this happen? How did Sam let this happen?

He should’ve been with Dean. Could’ve kept the idiot from using a taser while sitting in a puddle of fucking water. Physics, man! Had Dean never paid attention in school?! He wishes it’d been the other way around - Dean taking the kids to safety while Sam finished off the Rawhead. None of this would’ve happened and they’d be on their next hunt now instead of on a Hail Mary tour to a faith healer to keep Dean from dying of goddamn heart failure at twenty-six.

As if feeling Sam’s anger, Dean stirs beside him, one hand lifting to his chest to rub at it even before he’s fully awake. His face creases in discomfort, and his eyes flutter open, disoriented and bloodshot.

“You okay?” Sam asks immediately.

“Yeah.” Dean coughs dryly and sounds anything but okay. “Where are we?”

“Bout halfway. You need anything?”

Dean grimaces. “Gotta take a piss.” He shakes his head, looking drawn. “I swear, Sammy, this is the last time I’ve taken those stupid pills. I feel like a fucking sprinkler system.”

“You can’t stop taking them, Dean. They keep fluids from building up in your system. If you don’t take them, you’ll—“ Sam stops. He can’t go there.

“My ankles will swell to elephant size and I’ll drown in my own gunk,” Dean finishes cynically. “I heard what the doctor said, Sam. But frankly, I don’t care. If I only have a couple weeks left, I’d rather not spend half of them in front of urinals.”

“Dean…”

“What?” He throws up his hands in frustration, and even that small gesture looks like an effort. “It’s my life — well, my death. I get to decide what to do with it!”

He coughs again, and his breathing turns into that of a spent runner. Not for the first time, Sam thinks they should have brought the portable oxygen kit the hospital had offered, but, of course, Dean had refused.

“Hey, easy!” Sam says, cranking the window open for a little more air. “One: You’re not dying. I’m taking you to a specialist who’ll fix you up. And two: You’re taking the medicine. If this works out, you won’t need to take it much longer. And I don’t mind the pit stop. I need coffee.”

“Make that two.”

“Dean, you’re not supposed to—“

“Coffee, dude! And pie.”

At least his appetite is still normal.

Sam finds a Gas ‘n Sip and pulls up to the entrance as close as possible. Their short walk inside is this new tug-of-war of Sam offering assistance and Dean rejecting it until he loses to his weakened body and ends up leaning on Sam with an expression of grievous defeat. Sam helps him back to the Impala before getting their order of coffee and pie - pecan for Dean - and getting back on the road.

To his dismay, Sam watches his brother lose interest in his favorite food only halfway through, and that’s another unsettling new development to add to the quickly growing list. Dean listlessly picks at the pie with the plastic fork until he just stops and deflates, looking out the window with a thousand-yard-stare.

Sam’s own heart clenches in his chest. He can’t imagine Dean going down like this - frail, defeated, drained. And with no resistance whatsoever. Dean’s always been a fighter. Where is that fight now?

“It’s only a couple more hours, Dean,” he feels compelled to say. “We’ll get you right. You’ll see.”

Dean trains his big, wet, deeply shadowed eyes on him. “No, we won’t, Sammy.”

“Dean!” Sam grips the steering wheel harder. “How can you say that! I found this specialist, and he can save you!”

Dean shakes his head. “No, he can’t. Whatever hotshot doctor he is, Sam, it’s not gonna save me. It’s too late. I can feel it.”

Anger rises in Sam. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Well, there’s this heart condition I have…”

“No, you fucking idiot!” Sam’s not taking it. “I mean what’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you fighting this? Why are you just giving up? That’s not you, man!”

“Because there’s nothing to fight, Sammy!” A blotch of color creeps into Dean’s pale cheeks. “I know how to gank a monster. I know how to torch a ghost. But this? There’s nothing to go up against! We always say ‘If you can grab it, you can kill it.’ But there’s nothing to grab here! Nothing to kill! There’s no way out, Sammy! And you gotta accept that.”

“I’ll never accept it,” Sam answers, and he fixes his brother with a determined stare. “I’m gonna save you. You’ll see. You’ll see.”

Dean huffs as if he’s dealing with a basket case and shrinks back into his seat. “Whatever.” The conversation seems to have depleted him. His lips have taken on that bluish tint again, and he’s holding his paper cup with both hands, shoulders tucked in, as if huddling for warmth.

“Want a blanket?”

“Shut up.”

Sam steps on the gas. If Dean doesn’t want to fight, he’ll have to do it for the both of them.

Read the entire series on AO3 here:

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samanddean76 · 2 months ago

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Title: Guise Will Be Guise

Ship: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2,854 | Rating: Explicit

Major Warning: None Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Diminutive Dean Winchester, Massive Sam Winchester, Size Difference, Belly Bulge, Spells & Enchantments, Memory Loss, Dean Winchester Likes Being Manhandled, Sam Winchester Has A Large Penis, Um - Let Me Rephrase That..., Sam Winchester's Penis Needs Its Own Damn Zip Code, Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Sam Winchester, SPN Kinktober Prompt Fill: Size Difference

Summary: Dean returns to his recurring client's home. But something is very different today. Dean is left hoping that he survives the encounter.

Written for @spnkinkevents October 2nd Kinktober Prompt of Size Difference.

This is a follow up to the Kinky Dean Winchester Week story of Are You Now Or Have You Ever Been... (link below)

Story on AO3 | Part One of the Memory Verse on AO3

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masoena · 1 month ago

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So much trauma that boy.

Mommy’s gone .

#👁️👁️#hurt dean winchester #dean winchester

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strawlessandbraless · 1 month ago

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Supernatural was good actually

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zepskies · 12 days ago

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Restless Nights

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: After a tryst you instigated in the backseat of his Baby, you and Dean have started something new. He’s just not sure that you’re as “all in” as you claimed to be.

AN: As promised, here's a bonus one-shot to follow Maybe More Than Enough, though it can be read as a stand-alone. This is based on a request from @lacilou, one of my lovely Patreon members!

Bonus! It fulfills the @spnfanficpond monthly prompt. (Can’t give it away until the end though!)

Request: A Dean story based on the song “I Remember You” by Skid Row.

Word Count: 1.2K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, fluff, implied mentions of sex, bit of a twist ending…

Dean woke to the sound of pouring rain hitting the roof of the bunker.

It must’ve been some torrential downpour, because it took a lot for him to hear anything of the outside world from inside this place. Good thing the old heaters kept out the January cold, too. Nothing worse than frigid rain.

Blearily he cracked his eyes open, unearthed an arm from where it was tucked under his pillow, and carefully raised his phone to check the time, trying not to let the light from the screen burn his retinas in the still dark room.

4:00 a.m.

He groaned. Goddamn it.

He turned over onto his other side to face where you should’ve been lying next to him. He frowned when he saw nothing but the sheets pulled back and a dented, empty pillow.

No matter how he fought it down, a small tinge of worry, and the beginnings of disappointment churned in his gut. His brows furrowed.

Did you regret it already?

After his first make out session with you (turned more session) in the backseat of his Baby, you two struck a tentative agreement to figure what this could be—more than hunting partners, allies, and friends. Despite the fact that you kissed him first (a fact he didn’t easily let you forget), afterwards, you’d been a little hesitant about what came next.

“We take it day by day,” he’d told you, with a sizzling kiss that stole your breath. “All I know is…this feels good.”

It felt right. You had definitely agreed with that.

Dean sighed through his nose, turning back onto his other side. It wasn’t unusual for him to be a light (restless) sleeper, but the handful of times you’d joined him in his bed had been beginning to make his nights calmer. He was actually starting to sleep through until morning.

What’s more, after years of looking into your eyes and seeing all the possibilities of what if, he was finally getting to make those images solid, and real. He could touch them, taste them, feel them under his calloused hands. He finally had you for real.

He looked past your empty spot in his bed and didn’t see your phone, or any of your rings on the nightstand. They were the first things you put on in the morning, and the last things you took off at night.

If those were gone…

His disappointment was settling high in his chest now; an ache approaching pain.

Until he heard the light sound of bare feet padding back toward the bed. Your hand slid gently up his arm, and after the surprise wore off, the corners of his lips tugged upwards. Your hair was a bit wild and frizzy. It tickled his neck and shoulder when you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“What’s this?” you whispered, swiping two fingers between the crunch in his brows. Dean relaxed with a small smile.

“Nothin’,” he claimed. His voice was deep and rough with sleep. “Had an appointment to get to or something?”

You smiled and settled into bed, embracing him from behind. He turned onto his back and welcomed you over, with an arm curling around your waist. He rested his hand on yours when it smoothed across his chest.

Subtly glancing down, he didn’t find any of the silver you wore on the daily, including the ring with a small turquoise stone he’d bought you a couple weeks ago, on a hunt in Denver. That one, you now almost never took off.

“I put them away in a drawer,” you said, wiggling your fingers under his hand. Your hand felt dry, and a little like you'd been handling something dusty. Had you been up reading in the library again, lost track of time? “When I woke up, I saw one fell off the nightstand. Have a feeling it had something to do with the bedframe knocking against it.”

At that, Dean couldn’t contain his lazy smirk.

“My bad,” he said, sounding anything but sorry.

You laughed, shaking your head. You still laid a kiss below his shoulder before you settled back down. He gave your waist a gentle squeeze, pressing a kiss of his own to your forehead. A deep breath fell from between his lips, and his eyes closed.

A question was on the tip of his tongue. Where you were, why you got up. Was it something he could help with? Or was it one of those moments you needed to have alone, not unlike the times you gave him to settle with his thoughts, after a hunt gone sideways. If it was important, you’d level with him, wouldn’t you?

So he let it be.

In the morning, you somehow once again managed to get out of bed without him feeling it. He didn’t hear you either. Curiosity led him down the hall and glancing inside the cracked door of Sam’s room. It was empty, his running shoes gone from the side of his bed. Dean rolled his eyes.

All right, Lance.

Oh, wait, that was biking. …Whatever.

Dean’s next path inevitably took him down to the kitchen. His stomach was already percolating—in need of good coffee and (hopefully) good food.

The smell wafting from the kitchen surprised him, however. Cinnamon apples?

He turned the corner, and there he found you.

The fuck?

You looked a bit of a mess. Your hair was thrown up into a haphazard bun, and you’d stolen his apron. Though in his eyes, you made it look better, the white fabric hugging around your curves like you were Rachel Ray or something. You were frazzled when he came downstairs, but happy to see him. You beckoned him over and sat him down at the small kitchen table.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on here?” he asked, eying you curiously.

“Just stay there!” you called from the kitchen. He heard you opening the oven, cursing when you nearly dropped something.

What the hell were you doing baking before 9:00 a.m.?

He turned to ask you what was going on (and if you needed help), but before the words could come out of his mouth, you came over and carefully set down the pie in front of him. The rich aroma, the golden flaky crust, the flecks of cinnamon and glossy apples peeking out from the divots in said crust—it all had Dean’s mouth watering, and his shocked gaze fixed on the shiny pastry.

He startled a little when he felt your hands on his shoulders, sliding part of the way down his arms. You kissed the side of his head.

“Thought I wouldn’t remember, did you?” you teased. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

Dean’s throat constricted. He tried not to show it, but your gaze gentled when he finally met yours, like you were seeing through all his layers anyway. He realized then what you were probably working on last night, and he really couldn’t fucking believe it.

He’d forgotten his own birthday. Couldn’t see much use in celebrating, when year after crappy year…

But he closed a hand over yours on his shoulder, and he brought your hand to his lips.

Every word he couldn’t yet say to you was etched in that single gesture.

AN: Short and angsty sweet! lol And the monthly prompt was "pie!" 🥧 For Dean of course. 😂

Hope you guys enjoy this one! 💜

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