#SPN FIC

[floralscented]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ˗ˏˋ 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟔𝟕.ᐟ ˎˊ˗

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ───── SEASON ONE, ───── ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ───────── PART THREE ─────────

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summary. phi kappa psi throws a party to honor the first cardinal win of the season, and the past sneaks up with a phone call.

ㅤword count ! ㅤㅤ 3.8k ㅤㅤ content warnings ! ㅤㅤ john winchester hate. alcohol mentions. pining? taylor king! sam! ㅤㅤ track the season !

starting quarterback; two words that dean hadn't expected to hear in the starts of his freshman year. but suddenly, there he was, sat on one of the locker room benches, as coach greene gripped him by the faceguard of his helmet and shouted them in his face.

along with a few less nice words. idiot, he'd exclaimed, though without the biting, flippant tones that usually came along with his father's insults, i give you a play, you do the play! that's how football works! teamwork!

dean wasn't used to being on a team. he wasn't used to being anything besides a lone wolf, scampering through the woods to kill the bad guys with nothing but a blade for company.

he'd work on it.

"you have to trust me, too!" he'd said back to the coach, and had to resist the urge to physically wince when he did. standing his ground was engrained in who he was; even when john winchester tried to beat it out of him, it still rang true.

coach greene, though, simply stood toe to toe with dean, towering over him only now in this instance where dean was sat down and bent over himself. "alright, kid." his palm was heavy when it patted dean's shoulder. "you and i are going t'have to get t'know each other real quick this season."

and that was it. there was no scolding for speaking out of line, and certainly no other disappointment than what dean caused by stepping out of the team's trust and calling his own shots. this was how teams were supposed to work, he realized; not one person dictating everything, but a perfect harmony.

huh.

taylor king was less humble about the winnings. dean had barely pulled a pair of sweatpants on before he was being dragged by a larger hand toward the locker room's door. "whoa, whoa, wh─"

"frat party," he says in answer, giving dean a good shake by the grip on his bare shoulder, "in your honor."

dean snags his hoodie out of his locker with a strangled noise, too far away to get to shut it. at least he'd left his dagger at home, after weighing the options a couple of times. how would he explain a knife in his locker to people whose biggest concerns were if the moon landing was faked?

"i didn't ask the frat to do that."

taylor snorts, ruffling up dean's hair with his fingers. "so, you save the game, steal a w for the team, and you expect to go back to your room and, what, mope? sleep?"

dean's shoulders lift in a shrug. "why is that unreasonable?"

"i'm so damn excited to corrupt you."

truthfully, dean didn't need corrupting. his head was already a little messed up from all of the shit he'd seen at his ripe age of too young, and not to mention that parties after games weren't exactly a new concept to him, either. once he buckled down and got serious about wanting to get out of kansas, he stopped fussing over invites and started to actually study.

he liked it a lot that the image he presented so far at stanford was nothing like how he used to be, and what he would have become. dean must have been doing something right, even if it meant letting his friend think he was introducing him to the more fun sides of college.

"is this the frat that you've been kissing the ass of since the bonfire?" dean asks, conceding to taylor's physical pushing. he breaks free from his grip enough to slide the hoodie over his shoulders.

taylor's answering cackle is confirmation enough, but he never misses a chance to run his mouth. "yes, bro. phi kappa psi." he circles around dean to pat his hands down on his shoulders. "i'd kiss 'em all on the mouth if they asked."

"i'm sure they wouldn't."

"cameron wyatt's in there, you know?" taylor hums, his fingers drumming on the sliver of skin peeking free from dean's hoodie. "m'sure he'd love someone to kiss him better after his accident."

dean balks for a second, and then squeezes his lips shut. too many things to unpack at once. "i'm sure," he repeats, picking one of the slew of comments to address, "he's gonna have a couple of cheerleaders licking his wounds for him. and that you don't have to kiss them to get selected? taylor."

taylor laughs aloud. "yeah. sorry. had a little wine 'fore i snuck back in here to get your ass."

dean can't help his laughter, either. it's so ridiculous of a conversation that he almost relaxes into it. but something else nags at him. "you think wyatt's gonna be out of the hospital tonight?"

taylor gives dean a last slap on the shoulder before moving to walk beside him. they pass officials and crew and lingering teammates as they walk, all of them offering dean grins, or passing comments. he was a little overwhelmed by the prospect of his sudden popularity, but it was made easier by taylor there, practically basking in it all.

"if he does," taylor answers finally, words drawling slowly out of his mouth, "i don't think he's gonna be anything but bedridden for a while. why?"

dean chews on his inner lip, pushing the stadium's back door open and holding it for taylor, who slips out with a duck of his head to avoid knocking his skull into the frame. "no reason," he mumbles, the blast of fall wind whistling in his ears, "just hope he won't be pissed i've taken his spot on the team."

"wyatt's a junior with middle-of-the-line stats," taylor huffs, crooking a smile at a scantily clad girl passing by. dean blinks a couple of times when he realizes he'd been staring, too, as she circled around them and walked ahead of them. christ. "i doubt he's gonna be pissed that the next generation of cardinal players is in good hands, or that you won us a game tonight."

dean didn't think of it like that. he was often finding himself doing that; assuming that his successes would be downplayed, or made into unnecessary competition. he grits his teeth together. but nods, because taylor wasn't wrong. when was he ever wrong when it came to the inner workings of frat boys' minds?

"hey, wait!" a familiar voice calls from behind the both of them, and dean finds himself drawn into the sound of it, turning to meet the eyes he knew he'd find. you, chasing behind them in heels too tall to logically run as quick as you were, a skin-tight long sleeve cherry red dress draped over your frame. you were so damn gorgeous. "oh, hi," you stumble out, spinning on the thin balance of your heel to face them as you pass by.

"hey, cherry," dean traces his eyes down your outfit and back up, a flicker of a smile on his mouth, "you changed quickly."

you give him a look that could only be described as dumbfounded. "it's the first official frat party of the season. i'm not missing it because i'm caught in a locker room." your heels echo on the sidewalk as you walk backwards, sparing a glance over your shoulder. "i'm guessing i'll see you there?"

dean grins this time, giving into it. "yeah. we'll be there."

"cool." you turn again, facing forward as you break into a little jog, fixing the strap of your heel in hobbling steps. "wait, kristen─"

taylor's hand slaps hard into dean's ribs, forcing a scoff out of his mouth. "who the hell was that?"

dean's smile softens. it's one thing to have you to himself, it's another for his friends to learn about you.

"a friend."

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the party must have started during the last quarter of the game, because it was already in full swing once taylor pushed open the doors. the thick smell of hot sweat and alcohol wafted out the space, music shaking the doorframe and rattling the open windows.

he clears his throat, raising a hand in gesture to the crowded space. "ladies first."

dean elbows taylor in the stomach as he passes. "shut the hell up."

taylor's shoulders lift in a shrug, one hand coming up to rub the spot between his ribs where dean had dug in. "you're right. that's my bad."

dean gets only a couple of steps in before taylor bends and launches, rearing his head in between dean's legs, his hands going to his shins as he lifts him into the air. dean's hands flail before they grasp into the thick black strands of taylor's hair, his surprised laugh loud in comparison to the grunge on the speakers.

"ladies and gentleman," taylor announces, steady on his feet even with a full-grown guy on his shoulders, "your new fucking quarterback's arrived!"

dean yanks hard on taylor's hair. "shut the hell─"

"someone pour this shithead a drink!" taylor interrupts, his grin widening on his mouth. he'd grown up in a house of six; the oldest of four kids, all of his younger siblings below double digits. taylor king was more than a little used to showboating and acting out so long as it brought a smile to everyone else's faces.

dean, he could tell, was grinning. he acted nonchalant, closed off, but taylor knew an older sibling who wasn't used to the attention when he saw one. if there was one thing dean winchester wouldn't be with taylor around, that was looked over.

slowly, taylor lowers him to the floor, anticipating the punch to the shoulder before it comes. "what we're not gonna do," he says with a stern expression, arms firmly crossing over his chest to punctuate his serious tone, "is act like you're just some dude at a frat party."

dean blinks at him. they're only a couple of inches off from being the same height, but taylor uses those couple inches in his favor now. "i played for one minute of one game."

"and now you're gonna be playing every minute of every game," taylor answers, turning at the tap that comes to his shoulder. he flashes a dazzling grin at the girl and the cups she holds out ─ cropped cardinal red jersey, the stanford logo emblazed on her breast, a white skirt... kristen, dean's friend had called her. he couldn't wait to hear kristen's voice. "bottoms up, winchester. welcome to the hall of fame."

taylor grabs both cups from her, purposeful when his fingers brush against kristen's, and lifts them out of her grip, extending one of them to dean. "here's to the new backbone of the team," taylor hums before he takes a long drink, barely wincing at the burn in his throat. smells like rubbing alcohol, tastes like it, too. "don't fuck it up."

dean tentatively raises the cup to his mouth, and it's enough to make taylor grin. he's like a little southern puppy playing where he shouldn't. taylor wants to take him everywhere and see what he gets up to.

kristen's fingers curl around taylor's bicep, and he's afraid to leave dean, but the thought of not taking advantage of his given opportunities makes his stomach feel knotted up. "will you show me which room is yours?" she asks, her dark eyelashes fluttering up at him.

taylor could have bust right there.

"oh, i don't have a room here yet, honey," he drawls, his hand moving to trace his fingertips over her cheekbone, "but we can go test out all the beds. y'know, so i know which one i want when i do move in. how about that?"

dean audibly groans behind him. it's not taylor's fault that girls fall at his feet. who would he be to turn them away from what they want?

"go run off n' find your pretty little friend," taylor says, reaching up to pinch dean's cheek between his fingers, "cherry, right? go hang out with her and leave big daddy king to handle all your lovely new fans. as a favor for winning for us, yeah?"

dean doesn't blink, doesn't smile. his lips somehow flatten even more. taylor grins. "as a favor."

"you're welcome, by the way," taylor adds, letting himself be dragged through the sea of sticky people toward the staircase, "and tell cherry her friend's in great hands!"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ────

maybe there was another frat party that night, and that's where you'd run off to. this may have been the biggest one, but maybe you didn't fuck with crowds either, like he didn't; picked one of the smaller houses blaring music and snuck inside.

dean was considering it.

every step he took, someone said something to him about the game, about his save, or tried to drag him away upstairs like kristen had with taylor. as appealing as the idea was, he was curious about where you'd gone, and wasn't about to give into his desires on the very first celebratory frat party.

you were always so easy to find.

you had this light about you that dean had yet to find in another person on campus. you, somehow, were always where the laughter came from, or just so happened to be the source of it.

and there you were, in the center of the expansive living space of phi kappa psi, like a red beacon.

it wasn't as graceful as taylor had been, shoving past the clustered student body to get to where he wanted. taylor was a big, tall guy, and people seemed to dip out of his way the moment they saw his head over of the crowd. dean was tall, too, but he didn't carry the same over-the-top attitude. there could only be one taylor king, after all.

he's two steps away from you when his pocket starts buzzing. dean's eyebrows furrow. all of the people he keeps in contact are here. he knows; has already spoken to them, and their friends, and their friends' friends. unless it's─

dread pools in his lower stomach. he's in the eye of the storm, about to drop out of it and back into the chaos, as the crowd shifts and squeezes around him. any moment, he'll get swept away from you. any moment, his phone will stop ringing.

he manages to pull it out without it being knocked out of his fingers, flipping it open to read the caller id. even more dread fills him. sammy.

"sam?" he asks once he presses the green answer button, though even he can barely hear his voice with the buzz of laughter and chatter, and the music blaring through the speakers pressed straight ahead against the wall. "sammy?"

impatience and frustration flutter through his stomach. he can't hear shit on the other side of the line. he clicks the volume button up as high as he can, and still nothing.

dean's eyes catch on yours, and his heart pangs at the beginnings of concern etched into your expression. "hang on, sammy, let me get outside─"

he turns his back to you. it's even harder now to get out of the house with how full it'd gotten since dean and taylor showed up, the rest of the football team and cheer team and whoever else having made their way over.

breaking out of the crowd and finding the front door is a breath of fresh air all of in itself. finally, he can hear something on the other side of the line.

"are you at a party?" sammy's voice still sounds weak. the cell reception was the problem this time, not the overstimulation of sounds. dean takes a couple of steps down the sidewalk leading up to the house, in the direction of the mailbox planted by the winding road. "sorry, you can go back, i'll─"

"shut up, sammy," dean says without any malice behind it. "i haven't talked to you in a week. you're not interruptin' anything."

"i just wanted to know how it was going."

dean smiles a little despite himself. he wishes more than anything that he could drive the twenty seven hours back home and bring him back with him, even if sam was still just a sophomore in high school.

"there was a football game today," dean says, resting his elbow on the bricked in mailbox, "and, uh, we were losing. not by a lot, but it was tense. the quarterback, his name's cameron wyatt, he... he got injured, and i─"

sammy's line cuts in again. "─what was that? i don't think dad paid the phone bill again, i think my minutes are about─"

the line goes dead. in his ear instead of sam's voice is the incessant beep of a dropped call.

dean tries to ignore the pang in his chest. he doesn't move the phone from his ear yet, as if his sheer will could force the call to go through again. "i won, sammy. i got put in and i won it for us."

us. for the team. for himself. for sam. even if sam wasn't capable of being there.

dean sighs, scrubbing one hand over his face as the other shoves his phone back into the pocket of his sweatpants.

"the connection's really shitty out here."

dean blinks in surprise, glancing over his shoulder to find you there. the moon highlights the vibrant red of your dress, and the jewelry around your neck. his eyes trace over you in your entirety, his bad mood slipping away like water through his fingertips.

"sorry, didn't mean to..." you trail off, your arms wrapping around your chest, fingertips tapping along your inner elbows. "interrupt. i just wanted to see if... if you were okay. you looked a little─"

"i'm good," dean cuts you off, forcing an easy smile onto his mouth. "just... my brother called, is all. call dropped."

you look like you don't believe him, and your lingering silence only adds onto that theory. dean doesn't know if he hates you for it, or wants you to stick around.

"like i said," you say finally on a short, dramatic sigh, "this area's got the worst cell connection. i guess that's why every room, basically, in alpha phi─"

"no way," dean interjects again, this time with a laugh. "you joined a sorority?"

to your credit, it takes you a few seconds to blush. under the pale moonlight and the golden streetlight, you look the same color as your dress. his smile widens. "i just wanna know the whole college experience, you know?"

"hm." dean shoves both hands in the deep middle pocket of his hoodie. "i figured frat parties, microwave dinners, and failing exams was the college experience. not that i'm judging, of course."

you laugh then, too. "sounds a little like you are," you hum, and then your face twists up in some sort of recognition, eyes glimmering, "i told you i was rushing sororities! why do you sound so surprised? think i wouldn't get in?"

dean rolls his eyes, his expression warm, his heart feeling lighter already. "no. i figured you'd get in."

"oh, so you just forgot?" you tsk, starting to walk the sidewalk up to him. "fame's already gotten to your head."

"fame─" dean gives you the same flat look he'd given taylor earlier. "there's no fame. and i didn't forget. don't be ridiculous. i can't forget anything about you."

again, the silence afterwards feels heavy, this time with something other than disbelief. then, you nod toward the street behind him. "hopefully you aren't too distracted with college popularity to walk me home?"

dean watches you for a few seconds. the wind tossles your bouncy hair, gloss glitters on your mouth, your heels tap against your arm. he hadn't even realized you weren't wearing them. maybe he should have. you were back to being a good bit shorter than him.

"sure," dean concedes, reaching out to steal the heels out of your hand by their straps, "after you, cherry red."

you scoff, but don't say anything back for a while. the silence isn't awkward, at least to dean. it feels peaceful, almost. the wind whistles through the scattering leaves, making your hair flutter behind you as you walk, and you look utterly enchanting because of it.

"it's just a couple of houses down," you say eventually, lifting a red-nailed finger to point at one of the big buildings.

dean nods. "thought there'd be pink bows all around it. or flowers. both."

"don't be ridiculous," your eyes roll, the corners of your mouth tilting up when your gaze is back on him, "they're inside."

dean lifts his hands in surrender, your heels bouncing off of his forearms. "rookie mistake."

your laugh is like music to his ears. he can't take his eyes off of you. it's only when you slow to a stop that he realizes you've reached your destination. the prickling on his skin from your gaze is almost enough to make him flush.

"thank you, 67," you say with noticeable sincerity. "i know it probably took time out of your busy schedule to fit walking me home in, but─"

"please," dean shakes his head, holding his hand up to stop you, "don't bring it up. i swear to god. taylor's already gotten it in his head i'm some campus celebrity now."

your fingers close around his as you take your shoes from his hand. "just don't forget about me when everyone else starts to realize you're a pretty cool guy, okay?"

dean shakes his head, his smile soft and molten, and somehow a little sad, too. that you could think you were so easy to forget was a joke in of itself. "promise i won't." he nods toward the building behind you. "get some sleep. it's late."

you start down the sidewalk, and dean's seconds from taking a step back to walk back to his dorm building when you speak again. "goodnight, 67. you were great tonight."

dean had endured a lot of flattery that night. none of it felt on the same level as those few simple words you'd said to him did. didn't even come close. "goodnight, cherry," he calls back to you, and doesn't look back again, because he doesn't think he'd leave if he did, and that was a dangerous thought.

always such dangerous, ridiculous thoughts when it came to you.

the walk back to his dorm room is quiet. the wind doesn't sound the same when it's not whistling through your hair, flipping the strands around your face.

he should call taylor, make sure he was alright, even if dean knew in his heart that he was doing as he promised and making sure all of the girls looking to celebrate that night were getting taken care of. he should message sam, see if everything was alright.

and he will. but for some reason, he's drawn to the boxy computer monitor on one end of his and taylor's shared room. he wiggles the mouse to pull it out of sleep mode, and realizes why he felt the need to look.

tens of hundreds of friend requests to his aol account, probably because of the win he'd secured. and right at the very top, the newest one, was cherrypie.

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[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam

WC: 1126

Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter.

Warnings: A/B/O, dystopian au, canon elements, non/con, dub/con, incest, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, physical/mental abuse, mention of collaring/leashing, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, death/murder conviction, show level violence, parental dominance, trafficking, branding, panic attacks, bondage, forced mating, dated derogatory terms, medical treatment

*Additional warnings will be added

Square filled: @spnabobingo Slutty Omega

A/N I: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N II: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

**Apologies for taking so long getting this part out-had an accident at work and will have limited used of right hand for a bit.

Series Masterlist

Part XI

Dr. Stevenson slid surgical scissors under the ties, quickly sniping, explaining the original posture collars were redesigned for auto-erotic asphyxiation. It fades out as Dean feels like he's having needles pulling out from under the skin of his neck when she drops. "I was expecting that. Let's get the O back on the table."

The doctor continues talking as they slowly remove it, "And this is why they're outlawed," stepping back allows Dean to see the deep purple bruises with black depressions stripping the unconscious O's neck.

****

The doctor gently scrubbed her neck with a fine-pore sponge and commented, "You felt it, didn't you? " The question took Dean off guard and touched his neck, "How'd you?"

"I noticed the claim mark while I was removing the collar. Finding an O you're biologically compatible with isn't easy these days, and even more so for the owner to claim them if they are." Dean doesn't respond. "'Course, it's none of my business. I'm seeing a lot of soft tissue abrasion but no skin necropsy. That's good. Bruise cream will speed up healing." The doctor shined a light into her mouth. "Has she attempted to speak?" Dean admitted he had not heard anything outside coughing.

"I am concerned about this inflammation in her throat." They pick up a swab. "I'm going to have some labs run. Make sure it isn't from an STI since O clinics are only obligated to run standard STD testing for appearances." Slipping the swap into a sterile tube notices the Alpha's confusion.

"Several years into Hibbing, there was unrest brewing about selling people, so the government mandated all O's must have their hymens intact before the first purchase and made propaganda reels still shown in schools to program the populous in believing they're not mistreated." The doctor moves to a cupboard, pulling out a sterile pack.

"Truth is, these O's are versed in various sexual acts by the time they're teens. Going by the physical, I'd say she's been repeatedly throat fucked with that collar on; undoubtedly, it's also done some damage to her vocal cords. But if you're willing, you can do things to help." They gauge Dean before continuing.

"Give her nothing too hot or cold, only room temperature. Tea with honey, soft foods only need to swallow, nothing chewy, and protein supplement specifically for O's. If lucky, she'll recover enough to be understandable but be prepared for the worst, that she'll never speak again." They began preparing a site near the original implant. "I'd normally like to wait on the suppressant; it'll slow down healing. But with her current physical condition, going into heat would be detrimental."

They continued talking, oblivious Dean's vibrating with anger in muscle memory: unable to stop the strangers hovering over his Omega because being tased several times had temporarily left his legs unusable; furiousgrowls bounced around the room when he smelled her blood. Needing a distraction before his instincts swallow him, Dean turns his attention elsewhere and eyes the collar.

Running his fingers over it, he feels the visual bumps and discovers slim, horizontal boning embedded in the leather and hears the doctor comment, "They're constriction rings, function similar to cock rings without the pleasurable effects."

Dean's habitual guilty-as-hell caught in his throat. He failed again to see what was right before him. He shouldn't have kept blindly believing his dad's continued quoting of that damn pamphlet, that him treating it like any other person confused its lower intelligence.

Sam's snide comment that only dick Alphas believed in that antiquated bullshit led to the latest round of Dean physically getting between them before punches got thrown. His wonders what level of dick his brother now considers him is interrupted by the phone's ringtone.

"Hey Bobby, no, still at the clinic. What? Sam's registering shouldn't be an issue; his paperwork is all there." Dean listened to the Betas ranting. "Alright, I'll head over there and deal with it." Then came a list of errands the Beta needed him to run made Dean pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Just what he needed; more things slapped on his overflowing plate when he felt the O coming around, ending the call to focus on her. "Hi, sweetheart. Have a good nap?"

She turned towards his voice, spotting the IV pole, and glanced down at the tubing protruding from her wrist. She peered at him and blinked three times, the signal for question. "You have something going on in your throat and need some antibiotics and fluids. Listen, I gotta run out for a while and deal with something at Sam's school. Will you be okay?"

That's when it smacked Dean; something had shifted between them. If he allows himself to be honest with himself, it scares him. Refocusing on the O, he's unnerved by her concerned expression, too similar to Sam's, and feels relief when she blinks once for yes since he's unsure how to react to her becoming more in tune with his internal feelings.

Grabbing the three-quarter-drank bottle of rotgut, Bobby doesn't bother with the glass; he feels it burn his throat as he polishes it off. Banging the bottle down, he stares at the wording on the paperwork and understands why John was so cagey about his questioning about Frank. The sonuvabitch knowingly mated his children; that practice hasn't been done since before the Omega plague. And knowing the temperament of the man, it wasn't to get Dean out of dire straits because he is John’s son, but for the older Alphas' continued vendetta.

The Beta's mind whirled with questions, but one kept popping to the forefront- who or what made her appear out of nowhere, and why now?

The longer he broods, the more he's convinced it has links to Mary Winchester. Picking up the cordless phone, he dials a familiar number. "Hey Bobby," a female voice warmly says. "Guess you're not calling to find out who to bet on in Sunday's playoffs."

"We both know the Vikings are going to the Superbowl," there's an amused laugh on the line, "Keep telling yourself that. So what can I help you with?"

"I'm not sure where to start with this one," Bobby admits and hears cards shuffling through the receiver. "It'd be best to go back to the beginning. And keep the drinks down to a minimum." He glances at the new bottle he had sat on the desk just before calling, "How'd you...?"

"I'm the best damn psychic in the state," Pamela reminds him, "So start talking, or I will reverse the charges for this call." Bobby makes a vexed noise at his fellow Betas' cheekiness.

"In 1986, I met a man with two small boys looking for answers."

Part XII

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Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm @strawblueberrys @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @kazsrm67 @elmolovesw33d

[winniewritesstories]

Pilot | The (Mis)Adventures of Meg Winchester ii

Summary - the pilot but with Meg added! (She's 8)

Pairings/characters - Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Meg Winchester (OC), Jessica Moore, John Winchester (mentioned), Bobby Singer (mentioned)

Sam Winchester x little sister, Dean Winchester x little sister

Warnings - mentions of death and violence, spoilers for spn (obviously lol), that's it?

Language - English (British)

Word Count - 2,675

Notes - I'm NOT doing a series re-write but many of these will be/feature episodes, although there will be plenty that don't take place within an episode. Please let me know if you like!

Credits - @firefly-graphics for the dividers

Stanford University, 2005.

Dean stood in his brother’s apartment, face to face with him for the first time in over two years. Their not-so-happy reunion had been interrupted by Sam’s girlfriend, Jessica, whom Dean immediately decided was way out of his brother’s league (and he proceeded to hit on her).

Dean needed Sam with him on this. Dad was missing, and Dean didn’t know what to do. His only back up was a scrawny eight year old, and - much as he loved the kid - that wasn’t much help. He needed Sam.

“Dad hasn’t been home in a few days,” Dean said, choosing his words carefully in front of Sam’s civilian girlfriend.

“So he’s working overtime on the miller time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later,” Sam replied. He didn't see why this warranted Dean breaking in at midnight. Couldn't the man pick up a phone?

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but a clunk and a bang from the kitchen made both Winchester’s tense up. Then Dean sighed in resignation.

"You were supposed to wait in the car.” Dean called. Sam - who had been ready to tackle for the second time that night whomever had broken into his apartment - gave his brother a confused look. But his worry and confusion fell away when a small head of brown curls and bright green eyes poked around the kitchen door.

"I was lookin’ for Pop Tarts,” she said with a toothy grin. Her eyes moved from her eldest brother to the one she hadn’t seen in years. “Sammy!”

She'd grown, gotten taller, but she was still wiry and thin. As a baby, Meg had looked like Sam, but she was growing into a carbon copy of Dean, with his green eyes and spattering of freckles across her cheeks.

She moved at the speed of light, throwing herself into Sam's arms. He swung her off the floor so she could wrap her legs around him. She was bigger, but she was still small. She'll always be small to Sam.

Meg's arms went around her brother's neck and she held him tight for several seconds.

"I missed you!" she cried out, pulling back far enough to look at her brother.

"I missed you too, Scout," Sam replied affectionately, surprised at how easily the nickname slipped out. "You got tall."

Meg grinned, flashing a gap in her front teeth. "Almost as tall as you, I reckon." Sam chuckled. Meg then looked shyly to the girl standing by Sam, giving her a small smile.

"This is Jessica. Jess, this is Meg." Sam said softly. Jess smiled widely.

"Hi, Meg. I've heard a lot about you." Jess replied. Meg beamed. That meant Sammy had been talking about her.

"Meg." Dean said behind them, but he wasn't really mad. Not watching his two favourite people reunite. "I told you to wait in the car. How'd you even get in?"

Meg shrugged one shoulder as Sam set her down, the strap of her dungarees falling down. "Climbed the fire escape. I wanted to see Sam," she reasoned. "Plus, I'm hungry." Dean rolled his eyes fondly. The girl certainly had his appetite. She went to stand next to her oldest brother, who placed a gentle hand on her unruly curls.

"Was just explaining to Sammy why we're here," Dean said, shifting his focus back to his brother. "Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam stiffened, his face serious. "Jess, excuse us."

____

Meg knew it was bad. They'd come to get Sam from school, so it had to be bad. The didn't bother Sam for anything, not even when Meg hurt her leg last year. Sure, Dad would take off for days, sometimes weeks at a time, but he always called. Kept Dean up to date on where he was and what he was hunting. Sometimes he'd ask after Meg. Most of the time he trusted Dean to look after her and assumed he'd call if anything was wrong. Not that John could - or would - do anything if she was sick.

Dean had already been getting worried in New Orleans when they hadn't heard from him. Then they got the voicemail, and his worry turned to dread. He'd ran the voicemail through a computer and found the EVP, a crackling female voice talking about home. They'd left for Stanford that night.

Meg knew it was bad, but she wasn't that concerned. The thing that worried her most was Dean's fear. He was trying to hide it, but she could see that underneath his smile and confidence, he was worried. For Meg, things were much the same. In fact, they were almost better. She could go months without seeing her father or hearing his voice, that wasn't new. But getting Sammy back? That was awesome.

She sat in the back of the Impala while Sam and Dean had a conversation in hushed voices about Dad and EVP and Monday. Meg didn't know what was happening on Monday, but it seemed important to Sam. She waited for them to finish talking, and looked up at Sam's apartment. She liked Jess, she decided. Meg had been raised by her brothers, her Uncle Bobby, and very occasionally her father, but she didn't know many women. Jessica was nice, and she was pretty, and Sammy seemed to really like her - maybe even love her.

The driver side door opened and Meg sat up eagerly.

"Sammy's gone to pack a bag," Dean said with a smile. Meg stuck her head out the Impala's window.

"Sammy!" she called. He turned at the door. "Bring me a Pop Tart!"

_________

"Can I sit up front with you?" Meg asked her brothers after Sam slung his duffel in the trunk. Sam didn't have any Pop Tarts in his house, but he'd brought her a brunch bar to snack on. It tasted like cardboard and disappointment.

"No, you stay back there, munchkin. Get some sleep." Dean replied. Meg pouted.

"I can't sleep! We just got Sammy back!" Meg cried. She turned her attention to Sam. "I like Jessica. Is she your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, yeah she is." Sam said, and he couldn't keep the smile of his face.

"Awww." Meg said, scrunching up her nose. "Jess and Sammy sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes love-"

"Alright, alright. Cut it out." Dean said, but he smirked at the blush creeping up Sam's neck to his face. "Hey, Goose, why don't you tell Sam what you've been up to since you saw him last."

"Dean, we haven't seen him in for ages! That's so much stuff! Hmm... Okay, Uncle Bobby got a new dog, his name is Rumsfeld and I love him. Last year I hurt my leg really bad and I had to get shots but even then we couldn't come see you. But it was alright 'cos Dean looked after me for a week and I didn't have to do any school work. I lost like four teeth since I last saw you as well and now I can't whistle. Umm... what else? Oh - Dean taught me how to fix the Impala and I'm really good at it. I've been riding shotgun when it's just us, but you can have that seat now. Just don't touch my music. I also grew taller and then my shoes didn't fit so we had to go shopping. That was kinda boring though. Uncle Bobby's been teaching me lots of things, too, like -"

Sam held up a hand. "Slow down, Meg. Take a breath. What happened to your leg?" The admission she'd hurt her leg had been the most concerning thing he'd heard, and she hadn't been forthcoming with any details.

"A monster got it. I had'to go hospital and get shots and stitches, but then Dean got me ice cream, and even Dad-"

"Why in the hell were anywhere near a monster? Dean, what the hell are you thinking? She's a kid, she- "

"I know she's a kid, Sam, it's not like I planned it. Dad needed help on a case and I didn't have time to take Meg to Bobby's, so she stayed in the car. There were only supposed to be three - Dad hadn't clocked the other Skinwalker until it was at the car. We handled it, Meg got patched up, everyone's fine." Dean fired back defensively, raising his voice.

"How is that fine, Dean? She could've been taken, or killed, or turned! You're supposed to be looking after her, not putting her in danger, for crying out - "

"Looking out for her? Sam, that's all I do. It was a freak accident, and you ain't gonna make me feel worse than I already do. Not to mention, you haven't even been here for years. I ain't about to get a lecture from the guy who bailed on us, on his family - "

"Enough!" Meg cried out from the back seat, eyes getting watery. "No arguing when we just got Sammy back! 'Sides, he left 'cos he and Dad argued all the time so if you keep arguing, he'll leave again." Both boys softened at her outburst.

"Meg, that isn't why I left - "

"I don't care. I didn't get that hurt, really. Plus Dad stuck around for like almost a whole week, which I think is the longest I've seen him since... ever? And Dean made me pancakes whenever I asked, and then we went to stay with Uncle Bobby while my leg got all the way better and he looked after me really, really well. It wasn't Dean's fault, it was the monster's fault. Don't shout at him."

The car lapsed into an awkward silence. Dean's guilt was still eating him up inside, even though it had been over a year since Meg got hurt. He knew it was his fault, knew he should've looked after her better, but Sam throwing it in his face didn't help. Not to mention the fact that Meg thought Sam was staying so long as they didn't argue. He'd have to sit her down and explain that Sam was probably leaving them as soon as they found Dad. But that conversation could wait.

"Do you want to see my wicked cool scar?" Meg offered, trying to ease the tension. "I look like the Terminator!" Sam smiled softly and nodded, so Meg rolled up the leg of her dungarees to show him.

"Just like the Terminator," Sam murmured, running a finger over the raised, pink scars. There were three, clearly claw marks, running up her shin. Eight years old and scarred by a monster. "You said Uncle Bobby'd been teaching you stuff. Hunting stuff?"

Meg shrugged one shoulder as she rolled the cuff back down. "Sometimes, but mostly other stuff. We've been readin' about myths and the Greeks and how the Egyptians made mummies. They pulled the brains out through their noses! We study a lot of history together, probably 'cos he was there when most of this stuff happened."

Dean snorted. "Maybe don't tell Bobby that, Goose." Meg just shrugged. "We got a few hours driving, you really should get some shut eye."

"But Dean..." Meg whined, shutting up when Dean shot her a look in the rearview mirror. She huffed, reaching for her blanket and stuffed dog toy, Patch - her best friend, really. She draped the red and black checkered blanket over her lap, leaning her head back against the seat. She was tired, but didn't want to go to sleep. She stifled a yawn.

"Sammy'll be here when you wake up," Dean said softly, as if he could read her mind. She smiled a little, closing her eyes as the thrum of the Impala's engine lulled her into sleep, as it had done her entire life.

_______

This case was different from the others they worked, Meg could tell. Their Dad wasn't in Jericho, in fact he'd packed up mid-hunt, leaving Sam and Dean tracking down something called a Woman in White. Then Dean had been arrested, Sammy drove the Impala into a house and nearly had his heart ripped out by a ghost.

Average day for a Winchester.

They were on the road again, and Meg had an awful, awful feeling they were taking Sam back to Stanford. She was in the front, squished between her brothers, her favourite place in the world. Dean's music was playing in the background, the familiar bass welcome in the otherwise silent car, Meg's head resting on Sam's shoulder.

"Do you have to go back?" she asked quietly, so quietly they almost hadn't heard her. Sam sighed softly, stroking her unruly curls away from her face.

"Yes, sweetheart, I do. I have an interview on Monday." he replied gently. Meg's lower lip quivered as she fought back tears. Both her arms were wrapped around Sam's large one, gripping the fabric of his jacket.

"Please don't leave us." She begged, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. Sam and Dean exchanged a look over her head. "Please."

"I'm sorry, Meg." Sam said, wrapping his arm around her. She buried herself in him, his scent, his Sam-ness, savouring it. "I... I have to. You'll be okay. Dean'll look after you." She knew that. That wasn't the problem.

"Everyone leaves," she mumbled into his shirt, and both boys knew she was talking about more than Sam.

"Don't worry," Dean said with more confidence than he felt. "It'll me and you again, like always. We'll find Dad together." Sam's heart twisted at Dean's words, with guilt and hurt. Was there a place for him in this family anymore? He knew Dean's words were meant to comfort Meg, that they weren't intended to hurt him. Or maybe Dean was pissed at him for going back, or for going to college in the first place, and they were meant to hurt, in which case, mission accomplished.

Sam looked down at Meg, the guilt eating at his heart. He knew what it was like. She'd grown up with the three Winchester's and a handful of other hunter's as family, the Impala as a home. Her mother had left, then Sam, and now Dad was missing too. He didn't know what to say. Couldn't offer her the comfort or reassurance she needed. So he squeezed her shoulder and pulled her in closer, savouring the feeling of her in his arms again.

_____

The smell of smoke was all around them, even though the fire had been put out. They'd hung around a while outside Sam's apartment, Meg dozing in the back seat, Dean watching the building closely. He hadn't been sure what he was even waiting for. Until he was. Until the flames erupted and he heard Sam scream.

Meg was tucked under Dean's arm where she was safest. She'd been crying, partly for Jess, even though she barely knew her, but mostly for Sammy. The small, selfish part of her that may have been glad Sam was coming with them now was muted by the empty look in his eyes, the grief on his face, the lingering tear tracks on his cheeks.

It wasn't fair, she thought crossly. Sam loved Jess. They'd seen her only three days ago. How could someone be gone so quickly?

Meg had tried to comfort Sam. But she didn't really know what to do or say. So she had stayed quiet while Dean held their brother, extending one hand to rest on Sam's knee, her own tears snaking down her face as she watched one of her heroes cry.

She knew enough about her brother's mom, her father's mission, to know Mary Winchester died similarly. That's what scared them the most. The monster was still out there, and the Winchester's weren't safe yet. Maybe they never would be.

Sam's grief began to give way to anger. His eyes hardened, body straightening, as he rifled through the Impala's trunk, surveying the weapons. His voice was sharp as he looked at Dean.

"We got work to do."

Thank you for reading!

Taglist - @podado-t-memes @ariesandwolves

(P.S. - I posted the first part to @/winchesterdefender first, then moved my writing onto this blog. If you requested to be tagged on winchesterdefender I have added you here - please message if I have missed you!)

[supernaturallyafreak]

The bunker was unusually quiet, the only sound the faint hum of its arcane systems running somewhere deep below the surface. Dean lay stretched out on the bed, the ache in his muscles finally fading as the weight of exhaustion tugged at him. His face was softened in the dim light, the edges of his ever-present tension smoothed for once. His breathing, deep and steady, was a stark contrast to the turmoil that usually danced behind his eyes.

He stirred, his consciousness floating somewhere between sleep and waking, and opened his eyes just a fraction. The room was dim, but his gaze caught a silhouette at the desk across from him. Castiel.

The former angel was seated stiffly, the trench coat he refused to part with still draped over his shoulders. His hands rested loosely on the tabletop, but his eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Dean. It wasn’t the gaze of someone keeping watch for danger. It was... softer. Guarded, but undeniably tender.

Dean’s heart gave a strange thump, an unfamiliar warmth spreading in his chest as he let his heavy eyelids fall shut again. He wasn’t sure how long Castiel had been sitting there, but he could feel the protective energy radiating from him. It was strange—having someone watch over him without an agenda or an expectation of something in return. Just... watching. Just being there.

When he opened his eyes again, his head tilted slightly, his cheek pressed into the pillow. His gaze drifted to Castiel's back, to the way the edges of the trench coat fell, frayed from years of battles and countless sacrifices. For a moment, Dean simply stared, his walls lowering in the quiet of the night. If Cas noticed, he didn’t say a word or shift in his seat.

Dean didn’t dare move. It felt fragile—this moment. Like a bubble that would burst if he made a sound. He swallowed, his throat dry, the corners of his lips twitching almost imperceptibly. It was a rare thing for Dean to feel safe. But watching Castiel now, he felt something close to it.

Cas’s shoulders tensed slightly, as though sensing Dean’s wakefulness. He turned his head just enough for Dean to see the edge of his profile, illuminated by the golden light of the desk lamp. His expression was unreadable, but his voice, when he spoke, was low and steady.

“You should sleep,” Castiel murmured, his gaze briefly flickering to meet Dean’s before darting back to the floor.

Dean smirked faintly, though he didn’t quite know why. “Kind of hard when I know you’re watching me like a hawk.”

“I was ensuring you were unharmed,” Castiel replied simply, his voice carrying that same stoic concern. But there was something else beneath the surface—something vulnerable.

Dean didn’t respond immediately, letting the moment stretch as he studied Cas’s features in the dim light. He wanted to say something, something sharp to deflect the growing weight in his chest. Instead, he surprised himself.

“Thanks, Cas,” he said softly, his voice rasping in the stillness. Castiel’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though he didn’t turn back around. “Always, Dean.”

Dean stared at him for another moment before finally closing his eyes again. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt like he could let his guard down. And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t wake up alone.

This gorgeous beautiful face but he's looking at Castiel who has been watching over him while he slept </3 .... with a softened gaze, guard down- Dean is just staring at the back side of Castiel's overcoat silently.... Dare he get caught staring at him... I don't know! (,:

[clairenovaking]

of all the gin joints

Rowena slipped from his embrace easily without disturbing Sam, watching as he curled himself around her now abandoned pillow, nose buried in her scent. She pulled on one of his flannel shirts, doing up the buttons, and a pair of his boxers, rolling the hem so they didn’t entirely swamp her. She winces when the door creaks as she opens it, but thankfully Sam doesn’t stir, and Rowena eases the door shut behind her, turning around- -only to come face to face with Castiel, who was exiting Dean’s room across the hall, at the exact same time. The angel was dressed in a pair of soft flannel pajama bottoms Rowena had definitely seen Dean in before, and a worn Led Zeppelin tour t-shirt that was a half size too big for him- also clearly Dean’s. He’s even got slippers on, for goddess’s sake.

or, Rowena and Castiel run into each other in the middle of the night exiting Sam and Dean's rooms, respectively.

[aylacavebear]

A Golden Thread

A/N: I don't have chapter 35 for Soulmates done, so I wanted to give you guys something. I hope you like this one.

Your life was normal. Some would even go as far as calling it boring. The small one-bedroom trailer on the outskirts of town was nothing special either, but it was home. Five years ago, your husband had left, due to the problems between the two of you. So, you had taken it upon yourself to fix things up, make this place more yours than the ours it had been. It took you a couple of years, but you healed and, in that time, grieved the loss of your marriage and husband. Even though he was on the fence about working things out, you had to find a way to keep going, so that meant believing things were over, even though you stuck to your vows.

Dean Winchester x OCF Reader/You

Word Count: 10,669

Warnings: Fluff, Angst (a little), Your World Getting Flipped Upside Down. Pretty sure that's all.

----------------------------------------- It was near autumn, the leaves already changing colors with the season. The oranges, yellows, and reds painted a beautiful landscape behind your home. The greens that mixed into it all made you smile on the mornings you’d sip your coffee from the couch, enjoying the quiet. Sometimes, you’d spend the day working on your home. Others would be spent working outside.

Then, there were days like today when the storms moved through. The sky was already dark with clouds. It still looked like early morning even though it was almost ten. Today, you’d relax with your favorite show, hot coffee, and in your pajamas. The weather channel had advised everyone to stay indoors if they could, as the storm would be a bad one by noon.

What you weren’t expecting was the power to go out only a half hour later as thunder cracked so loudly you had your covering your ears. Cautiously, you went to the window to look outside. It hadn’t even started raining yet. So far, just a lot of noise and a light show that danced along the dark clouds outside.

Grabbing your phone, you checked the weather. They were still calling for hail and heavy rain, possibly flooding. With a groan, you tossed your phone on the couch after turning it off. You would have found something on your phone to do but didn’t want to kill the battery just in case the power didn’t come back on. 

So, you began perusing the bookshelf in your living room, reading over the familiar titles of books you’d read several times already. Nothing really sparked your interest as a frown found your lips. “Great. Now I’m bored out of my mind,” you grumbled as you went to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. You looked out the kitchen window, bringing the cup to your lips as lightning stuck near the forest, barely missing a tree as an almost deafening crack of thunder shook the walls. “Jesus,” you breathed as the hairs on your body stood on end.

The ground had sparked where it had hit, but there was still a faint glow of something you couldn’t quite make out from this distance. You barely got your cup set down on the counter, your hands on the edge of the sink, trying to get as close to the window as you could when another crack of thunder startled you. Holding your chest as you attempted to catch your breath, you glanced out the window with a frown. “Stupid thunder,” you grumbled under your breath. 

Thinking quickly, you threw on your shoes, then slung your jacket over your shoulders, and out the back door you went. The wind had looked like it was blowing hard, but being in it, you had to hold your coat closed as it whipped your hair about, tangling it in knots. Shoulda put it up first. That didn’t deter you, but seeing how far away the glow was, you debated going back inside to wait out the storm.

Nah, I’ll be fine. Your curiosity won over reasoning, quickly. It was your downfall, your curiosity. With a new sense of determination after glancing up at the looming storm, you pressed on, your boots crunching over the brush below your feet. 

You swore the sky got a shade darker as you approached the glowing thing. Which to you looked like nothing more than a slightly thick golden thread. It had a golden glow to it, which illuminated the nearby area, but it didn’t really glow that brightly. “Weird,” you mumbled under your breath as you walked around it, trying to figure out what the hell it was. 

You grabbed a nearby branch off the ground with the intent of poking it, much like one would poke something to figure it out. However, it was like the end of the stick disappeared into it. Puzzled, you walked so that you could also see the back of it, and sure as shit, the part you poked it with, disappeared.

“What the fuck?” you breathed, tilting your head.

Now, any normal person probably would have chosen to use an object like a phone or a video recorder to see what was inside this thing. Not you. Nope. You decided to stick your head through it. The sounds of the storm faded away completely. On the other side of this strange golden thread thing was a beautiful old-style library. Your eyes widened as you looked through the large archway that led to another area, where you noticed a table and a staircase leading to a second floor. Well, that was what it looked like anyway.

Even in the silence of this strange place, you were able to pick up faint sounds of electricity and air through a ventilation system. You debated just going all the way through until you felt cold, wet drops making it through your pajama pants. Shit, the storm. And with that, you pulled your head out of the, well, whatever the hell it was.

The cold rain pelted your face the moment you straightened up. There was no time to think with as bad as the storm had gotten, running quickly back to your home as the wind and rain berated your body. Once you were inside, you shed your jacket, which was nearly soaked, then your shoes. “That was stupid,” you muttered on your way to your room for a dry pair of clothes and to brush out your sopping wet, tangled hair.

For the rest of the day, the storm raged on while you watched out the window in your living room. The power came back on around noon, but you didn’t go back to your show. Instead, you went to your laptop, trying to search out anything that would be remotely close to what you had found. The golden thread and the place inside it. 

There were a few times you wondered about what could pass through the thread. The stick you had held went through just fine. Your head had gone through fine as well. But when you had felt the water on your legs, you hadn’t noticed any of that on the floor on the other side of the thread. There wasn’t even a breeze or harsh wind like what had been pelting your back.

The cracks of thunder, the thudding of hail, or how the wind seemed to shake the walls while the rain pounded on your roof didn’t distract you from your task. Website after website you searched while drinking coffee. That was more for the warmth than the caffeine. 

“Nothing,” you mutter, sometime after nightfall, closing your laptop. You leaned back in your chair, feeling utterly defeated. Looking things up online and finding precisely what you were looking for had been a talent of yours for years. But this thing, whatever it was, was something the internet apparently had no knowledge of. 

After doing some cleanup and then setting up the coffee pot for the following day, you turned off lights as you made your way to your room for the night. You looked out the window one last time at the glowing thread. “I’ll figure it out tomorrow,” and with that, you headed to bed, hoping the sleep would help with a fresh start in the morning.

—-------------------------

The storm had passed, leaving quite a mess of branches and leaves all over the place. Doing yardwork wasn’t an issue for you. You liked being outside, but today, you were distracted by other things. It was only after seven, and you were already dressed, on your second cup of coffee, and packing a bag. 

The yard can wait.

It was a repetitive thought as you double-checked the items as you added them to your bag. Most of it was clothes, a few simple toiletries, and then a few items you didn’t want to accidentally leave behind. Having no clue what the thread led to or how long it might take you to get back home, you wanted to be prepared for anything.

Your laptop and charging cord were the last items you put into your bag before zipping it closed. With your phone in one pocket and your wallet in the other, you slipped on your favorite flannel, then your jacket. There were several smaller items in your jacket pockets that you thought might be handy, like a small flashlight, a lighter, a pocket knife, a lock-picking kit you’d had for years and were quite adept at using, and some snacks.

For a few moments, you stood there in your living room, glancing around at your home. Well, if I never come back, it’s not like there’s anyone who would miss me. You did decide to write out a quick note, just in case someone did come looking for you and you hadn’t made it home again, for whatever reason. 

With a smile on your face, determination coursing through you, and anxiety trying to tighten around your chest, you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed outside. One way or another, I’m gonna figure out what the hell that is and what the place on the other side is.

The storm had left quite a mess, but your focus was on the golden thread near the forest. Birds were doing their morning thing, as were the bugs, all of them flitting about as you continued walking. There were still clouds in the sky, but these were puffier, the light of morning dancing off of them beautifully as they slowly rolled across the sky. At least there won’t be rain today.

Your heart sped up the closer you got to the thread while your mind wandered to all the different possibilities. There were no windows. Perhaps it’s something underground, like a basement. Whoever it belongs to loves books. Someone wealthy, perhaps? It looked expensive, well-built. You absentmindedly adjusted the strap of your bag, the weight shifting on your shoulder as you approached the odd golden thread.

For a moment, you hesitated, glancing briefly back over at your home, the life you could potentially be leaving behind if this weird thread thing decided to lock you in that place on the other side. But, when you truly took the time to think about it, you weren’t leaving anything or anyone important behind.

Your job barely paid the bills and got you through each month. You had a husband who seemed happier now that the two of you were apart. Then there was your family, whom you hadn’t spoken to in more years than you could count. You didn’t have any children, and your home itself was falling apart.

“Fuck it,” you muttered as you stepped through the golden thread and into that weird, underground, windowless building.

The building, whatever it was, was temperature controlled, that much you could tell. The golden thread didn’t disappear, which helped the worry dissipate, at least for that. Now was the task of figuring out what this place was.

You spent a good hour attempting to explore this place, and you had barely managed to scratch the surface with as big as it was. There were all sorts of different rooms, all labeled. That staircase had led to another floor, sort of. It was the entrance, which you didn’t bother with for now. You didn’t want to accidentally get locked outside and away from the only thing that could get you home.

It had everything from a gun range to an infirmary and everything in between. The theme, you noticed, was from the forties or fifties. All that was down a maze of hallways off what you had deemed the map table room. It looked like an electronic version of the game Risk, which you found slightly amusing. Down the other side had been rooms, lots of them. What piqued your curiosity was that two of those rooms looked to be in current use. You looked at the things you felt comfortable looking at. The first one you had found looked well decorated, lived in, loved. There were weapons hanging on the walls, a few pictures on the desk of a mother and her son, then a family photo of four. There were so many little things you wanted to look through but didn’t want to intrude on someone’s privacy like that.

The other room didn’t look quite so lived it. It was more… barren compared to the first. There were things in there, just far less. Most of the other rooms looked unused. There were a few you questioned that could be used for guests with how they looked, but you didn’t want to make assumptions at the moment.

With a sigh, you set your bag on the floor next to one of the chairs in the library, then went over to the bookshelves. There has to be something here. You wanted answers, needed answers. What is that golden thread? What is this place? Why did it show up in my backyard? That and more kept playing on repeat in your head as you scanned the titles, looking for anything that might give you a clue.

—-------------------

The table in front of you was covered in books, another open directly before you, but none of them had the answers you had been seeking. The stuff in them reminded you of folklore or history, even of things in monster movies. You glanced down at your phone, then groaned. It had been four hours, and you weren’t any closer to solving this bizarre mystery.

Halfway through cleaning up, the sound of male voices pulled you from your task. You weren’t entirely sure which emotion was going to win out -curiosity or caution- as you stared at the opening of the library. Quickly glancing over at your bag, the mess on the table, then the golden thread, you made a quick decision.

You grabbed your bag, slung it over your shoulder, and stood near the golden thread. This way, if whoever it was that was heading in your direction was dangerous, you could attempt to make a quick getaway to your home. Or, at least, hide in the forest.

“I’m telling you, that spell didn’t work,” a frustrated deep male voice stated.

“And I’m telling you did. We just have to figure out where that portal opened up,” another male voice stated, not quite as deep.

“I’ll make some calls,” a slightly older male voice sighed just as the three made their way into what you had called the map table room. The moment they turned in your direction, they froze, for a split second before the shorter of the three pulled a gun and aimed it at you.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

You put your hands up quickly, not wanting to chance a bullet following you through the thread and hitting you if you tried to run. They all eyed you cautiously, just as you did them. “I’m Y/N. I came through that thread thing. It showed up in my backyard,” you explained, praying he wouldn’t shoot you.

Sam smacked his brother on the front of his shoulder, “Found the portal,” he practically chuckled. “Bet she’s the one we were looking for.”

“How the hell is she gonna help?” Dean stated, not lowering his gun, not wanting to believe.

Bobby just sighed, setting his hand over Dean’s gun. “Put it away. She’s harmless, and you’re just scaring her. Why don’t we try to get to the bottom of this before you make it worse, for her.”

For a moment, all you could do was stare at them, puzzled and curious. It didn’t help that the one in the middle, the shorter of the three, was fairly attractive. When he put his gun away, you lowered your hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I just wanted to find out what that thread was and what this place was.” You explained but had stayed near the thread.

“Have a seat, kid. We’ll explain what we know,” Bobby told you, taking a seat at one of the library tables, followed by the other two.

You sat near the thread. It was more of a ‘just in case’ for you. Plus, it made you feel a little safer. Although, you weren’t sure it really would have made a difference. The two younger ones looked like they could probably catch you if you attempted to make a run for it. They introduced themselves, then began explaining things.

“That thing you keep calling a thread is called a portal. It leads to a different dimension, yours,” Bobby explained, making you tilt your head slightly.

Sam leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he clasped his hands together. “We needed help with the current problem we’re facing. There was a spell that would help us locate said help. At first, we thought it would show us a location on a map, but after doing some more research, we learned that if what we sought wasn’t in our dimension, it would open a portal to the world where said help was.”

Dean was just leaning back in his seat, sipping a glass of whiskey, watching you. It was hard to read his expression, but it was clear to you that his mind was working things out. The upside, you were hot, and he was having a hard time focusing on how you could possibly be the help they needed. Well, the help he needed. 

“So, what kind of help do you need, and with what?” you asked, trying not to sound as curious as you were. This was far more interesting than your life in your world. That thought alone, your world, almost made you chuckle. It felt like you were in an episode of the Twilight Zone.

The three of them looked at each other, and you quickly took note of their silent conversation. Interesting, you thought to yourself, just watching them. Sam opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, clearly unsure as to how to tell you. Bobby just got what you called his thinking face. Then there was Dean, who was staring at you intently.

His jaw was slightly clenched, his hand around his glass as it sat on the table. He looked relaxed, but there was tension in his shoulders, concern hidden in his gaze. “What do you know about the supernatural?” he asked, his tone tight.

“In your world, nothing. In mine, ghosts have been caught on film. Some say that angels are real, but I’ve never seen one. They say the same thing about demons, but I’ve never seen one of those, either. I’m a skeptic. I won’t say something doesn’t exist. However, I can’t say it does unless I have some sort of proof,” you explained, choosing to be honest with them since they didn’t seem like they meant you any harm.

If it hadn’t been for the books you’d read earlier, you might have thought the whole monster thing was crazy. They spent a good hour giving you the rundown on the supernatural in their world, and you swore you really were in some episode of the Twilight Zone. They were clearly serious about it all, and you had no reason not to believe them. Then, you furrowed your brow, confused. “So, what is in my world that will help you with whatever it is you need help with?” 

Again, there was silence, and again, the three of them shared a silent conversation. It was mildly frustration that they wouldn’t just tell you what they needed. That was when a man appeared behind the three, out of the blue, wearing a light brown trench coat.

“So, did the portal work?” he asked, hopeful.

Dean rolled his eyes, “Yeah, Cas. The portal worked.” He sighed, gesturing to you near the end of the table.

Cas looked over at you. At first, he had a completely neutral expression, then a smile slowly spread to his lips as his entire expression brightened. “Wonderful. I’ll get the binding rings,” he stated happily before Dean grabbed his arm to stop him.

“We never got to that part,” he grumbled.

You deadpanned and crossed your arms. “Will one of you tell me what you need from my world and why?” Your tone was demanding, but at least it came out as you intended, even if you didn’t understand what this Cas person was.

Without skipping a beat, Cas answered you. “You’re here to save Dean’s life. His soul is in danger of being taken to Hell due to a curse put on him by a witch. Crowley can’t even stop it. The only way to save him was to find his soulmate and then use the binding rings to break the curse. He only has a couple of days left before the curse completes itself.”

The information had you stunned, and for a few moments, all you could do was blink blankly at the four of them. You weren’t sure how long the silence had stretched before you walked over, snagged the bottle of whiskey, took a decent swig, and then returned to your chair. Dean just raised an eyebrow, finding you a little more interesting than he initially had.

“Okay. Care to explain that to me in a way I’d understand it a little better? Like, what’s a soulmate? How could that even be since I’m from a different world? What all is entailed with the binding ring thing you mentioned?” you asked, rattling off the questions that were off the top of your head.

Dean watched you sip his bottle of whiskey, finding it interesting how you hadn’t even flinched from the burn of the initial drink. He also couldn’t help the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You were interesting, and that was putting it mildly. Perhaps being bound to you might not be so bad after all. 

Before Cas could say a word, Bobby leaned forward, “Soulmates are common here. Everyone has one. They just don’t always find each other, for various reasons. We have a feeling that the witch who cursed Dean knew that his soulmate wasn’t in our world. That’s why he got the curse instead of Sam.” 

“Occasionally, soulmates are in different worlds. It’s rare, but it happens. It just depends on what the soul has chosen for its current existence,” Cas added, still smiling happily at you.

“In your world, do you have anything like Twin Flames or something like a deep connection to someone? Kind of like, that person feels like your other half? You two just, get along really well, like you’re meant for each other?” Sam asked, hopeful that might help.

“Yeah, there are things like that in my world,” you replied, choosing not to think about your husband, who you thought you had that with, but it had clearly been one-sided. Then, the three of them just sort of stared at you, like they were expecting you to say something else. “What?” you asked, not sure what they wanted.

Cas furrowed his brow, slowly walking closer to you while the other three just stared. “Do I have something on my face?” you asked, utterly puzzled. What you were unaware of was that the portal behind you was slowly closing, and as it did so, your form of this world was taking over. You weren’t changing much. “How interesting…” Cas murmured the closer he got as your eyes followed his movements. “I thought your kind was extinct.”

“My what?” you asked, trying not to get frustrated or worried.

Catching movement out of the corner of your eye, you looked over at Sam, who was pointing toward your head. You reached up, but slowed your movements to nearly freezing when you felt them. They were soft, furry, and there was one on either side of your head. They even twitched when your fingers bruised the sensitive hairs near the edge.

“I have cat ears?!” you exclaimed, your gaze going up, wanting to see them, even though you knew you couldn’t.

“And a tail,” Cas added, intrigued. 

Your head snapped around, looking behind you. And sure enough, swaying slightly as the tip flicked in annoyance was a slightly fluffy cat tail in a shade of fur that matched your hair color. Dean couldn’t stop the smirk that found his lips. He had a thing for anime, and your appearance was nearly a dream come true.

As you stood up, turning a bit more so you could see your tail better, you realized you were far more flexible than you had ever been in your life. That was about the time you noticed that the portal was gone. With a sigh, you plopped back down in your seat. “Will one of you please just give it to me straight,” you sighed, your gaze on the space of table before you. Then, you took another long swig of the whiskey.

Cas was now standing next to you, completely curious and intrigued by you. “You’re a Touched. From the looks of it, of Bastet. I don’t know what abilities you possess, but I know the base of it is that you are like a cat.” As he explained, he walked to the other side of you, still staring at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Will that affect the binding spell?” Sam asked, now worried a bit that his brother might still be in danger.

“No. No. She is definitely his soulmate. So, the binding spell won’t be affected at all by what she is.” he answered as you took another drink of whiskey.

“So, I’m basically a cat person,” you mumbled as your eyes fell to the wedding ring on your finger as the gold glinted briefly in the light. Should have left that behind, too.

Bobby had stayed quiet, watching you, trying to gauge what was going through your head. “Cas, Sam, let’s leave these two alone for a bit. Dean still has a couple days. She has the right to say no,” he told them as he stood, gave you a friendly nod just as you looked up, and headed toward the kitchen.

Sam gave his brother a reassuring smile, as well as a squeeze of his shoulder, before following Bobby. Cas just poofed and was gone. You just grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took another drink while Dean watched you, unable to look over at him. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure what to feel, let alone think. To top it off, you were some sort of cat person now in a world that wasn’t yours, and as far as you knew, you couldn’t go home.

Dean caught the glint of light off your ring when you took another drink, his brows furrowing as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. Without saying a word, he got up, closed the distance between the two of you, and grabbed your wrist. It wasn’t hard or anything. It just surprised the hell out of you.

“You’re married?” he asked, far gruffer than he had wanted to. All of a sudden, this whole thing felt wrong. He wasn’t about to take you from someone who loved you. His soulmate was taken, and that almost made him feel sick.

You yanked your wrist from his grip, taking another drink of the whiskey. “Doesn’t matter, since I can’t go back anyway,” you grumbled, more at his behavior than his question.

He sighed and sat next to you, taking the whiskey bottle which pulled your attention. That was when you saw his expression soften as you frowned, your ears drooping. “I’m sorry,” he began, far gentler than he had been. “I didn’t mean to take you from your home, from…” he sighed, gesturing to your ring. “I’m not worth leaving that.”

That was when you realized what he was getting at and couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up from deep in your chest. Dean just looked at you, having no clue what you found so funny. It did take you almost a minute to catch your breath, your ears no longer droopy in any way. You were still chuckling as you slipped the ring off your finger. “This? The man that gave it to me doesn’t love me or want me. He left me five years ago but refused to send the divorce papers, choosing to string me along for a while and then not talk to me for weeks or months on end,” you explained, feeling an odd sense of peace wash over you now that the ring was off your finger.

“I… I had no idea…” he trailed off, letting his gaze fall to the bottle in his hand as it rested on the table. 

“You could of just asked,” you replied, a little softer this time. He looked like he was struggling with a lot, and you didn’t want to pry. “I don’t have anything to go back to. No friends. No family that mattered. A home that was falling apart and a dead-end job that barely got me through each month,” you chuckled a little at the end, looking up at him while setting the ring on the table.

There were so many things he wanted to ask you, but every time he allowed himself to look into your eyes, all he managed to do was get lost in them. He wanted to hold you close, tell you that he’d never treat you like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to make words. What could he tell you that might make any of this easier? “You can say no,” he practically whispered. “And, I’d find a way to send you back, if you wanted that.”

It was your turn to furrow your brow, wondering if he had even been listening. “I have nothing worth going back to.” Then you looked away from him, wondering if perhaps it was you and your current appearance. “I’d understand, if you didn’t want me either,” you mumbled, taking the whiskey bottle from him and taking another drink.

Dean frowned as he looked at you. “That’s not what I said,” he grumbled, “...and drinking won’t help.” He added, taking the bottle from you, again. He let out a frustrated sigh, but it wasn’t at you. “Look. I’ve never had a real relationship. I tried once, a long time ago, but it didn’t work out. Being a hunter… Well, it makes that sort of thing… complicated.”

You looked up at him, meeting his emerald-green eyes while your ears and tail twitched in curiosity. “Fair,” you began, then thought for a moment, wondering if you could get him to talk to you on a deeper sort of level. “What does this whole binding spell entail, and what will it do? Why don’t we get the complicated things out of the way first? If your friend says we’re soulmates, then maybe we can figure this out, and maybe, just maybe… we’ll both find something with each other that we thought we never would.” You knew it was a long shot. You barely knew anything about this man, and he knew even less about you.

He didn’t even realize that a smile was toying with his lips. You were sweet while also to the point, and you seemed to be a caring person. He just wasn’t sure he could give you what he felt you deserved. And so far, you seemed like the kind of person that deserved that fairy tale sort of love.

“The binding spell would bind your soul to this dimension and our souls together the rest of the way. The way Cas explained it was that because you’re from a different dimension, we won’t feel what soulmates feel when they meet each other. It’ll be way diluted,” he explained, trying to keep it simple while being direct. Dean wasn’t about to admit how he was loving the way your ears twitched as you listened.

“It’s really simple. We put the herbs the spell calls for, then a couple drops of our blood in a bowl. Cas holds the rings over the bowl, tosses in a match, recites the spell, then we put the rings on each other. It’s kinda like marriage but not completely,” Dean chuckled, hoping the whole thing wouldn’t completely scare you off. Hell, he had almost dismissed even looking for you when they found this solution.

Well, I guess it could be worse, you thought to yourself as he spoke, not even realizing how easy it seemed to be able to relax around him. You took a few moments to think it over while also taking in his features. He seemed like a decent person. He wasn’t pushing you to do this against your will, and it was clear he had people who cared about him. 

Then there were his looks. Typically, you didn’t go for looks, as they could be deceiving. He was more than handsome, and those green eyes of his held an intensity that captivated you. Dean had the kind of attractiveness that reminded you of a movie star or model. Typically, someone you figured wouldn’t look twice at you. 

“You’d really be okay, stuck with me?” you asked, this time being a little more serious.

Dean’s expression instantly softened, although he also couldn’t believe you’d ask that sort of thing. “I could list all sorts of reasons I’m okay being stuck with you, and I only met you a couple hours ago,” he smirked.

Charming and a flirt, and he clearly knows it. “Like?” you asked, trying to think past the thoughts his smirk made play out in your mind.

He tilted his head, but only slightly. Plenty of things ran through his head, most of them starting with your ears and tail, but he pushed those aside. “To start, you don’t freak out easily. You traveled through a portal, having no clue where it would take you, and there was a high chance you would never get home. That takes guts, determination, and confidence in your ability to survive in a strange place,” he began, being completely serious with you now. 

“Then there’s the fact that you didn’t just run back through the portal when three guys show up and start talking to you about soulmates and all that. You also didn’t freak out when Cas just appeared and disappeared,” he chuckled, as he had found your ability to keep calm and process information both admirable and attractive.

Dean smiled a little, watching your ears twitch with interest while your tail swayed lazily behind you. “You’re curious. I like that. So far, you’re sweet too. You want all the details so you can make an informed decision. That tells me you’re intelligent and think logically. That’s attractive to me,” he winked, and you were having a hard time not blushing. Not even your husband had said things like this to you. Well, at least not in a while.

“Just the fact that you’re considering helping a complete stranger in this regard is a quality that’s rare in people,” he continued as a soft, almost gentle smile teased his lips. “You care about others. There’s a gentleness in your eyes that I don’t often see, and I’ve met a lot of people over the years. You’re beautiful, both inside and out.”

That was when you felt the warmth in your cheeks as the blush depended. If he was trying to sweep you off your feet with only words, he was doing a damn good job of it. You caught movement out of the corner of your eye. His hand had twitched like he wanted to do something, and he caught how your eyes had darted to the movement and then back to his eyes.

“Then, there’s the ears and tail,” he added with a teasing tone and a smirk to match. “Those are every anime lover’s dream right there.”

You ducked your head a little, blushing deeply at that point, and you knew that if you went through with this spell, life with him was going to be very interesting. “You’re cute when you blush,” he whispered, and you hadn’t even noticed that he had leaned a little closer to you.

It was his scent that made your breath hitch. Now that you had gained the senses of a cat, you could smell things that you couldn’t before. Since he had moved closer to you, you’d been trying to ignore it the best you could. However, when he had leaned even closer, it was like it had surrounded you.

You took a shaky breath, attempting to steady your nerves again. “And you’re a flirt,” you teased back, finally meeting his gaze. Then, you had to try not to get lost in his eyes.

Dean chuckled, “There’s another one. You’re playful. I like that too.” You deadpanned playfully, unable to keep a completely straight face. He was getting to you, and he knew it. “But in all seriousness,” he began, finally reaching up and cupping your cheek. “...in the little time I’ve been around you, I like you, and not just your physical beauty. I like who you are.”

This man is seriously going to be the death of me. The way he gently rubbed his thumb on your cheek, the tenderness in his eyes, and how your heart skipped a beat while the butterflies danced in your stomach made you feel like a teenager again. Your husband hadn’t brought those feelings out in you in a long time.

You let out a shaky breath, attempting to think, but before you could manage to get a word out, he pulled back, giving you some space. Briefly, you wondered if perhaps he felt more of a pull toward you than you did with him. “Why don’t we get to know each other better?” he suggested, taking a sip of his whiskey, relaxing into his chair.

The two of you spent the next several hours in the library, lost in a world that was just the two of you. You told him about your life back in your dimension, some of your favorite foods, music, your boring job, and how much you loved baking but hadn’t done it very much since it was just you. Dean was quite interested in the fact that you could bake, but he tried not to interrupt you, no matter how many questions went through his head. He did make a mental note of the things the two of you had in common.

He shared with you his life on the road, the monsters he’d had to face and take down, how many times he had died and come back, and his Baby, which you thought was a person until he explained it was his car. Dean even promised to take you for a drive, several if you’d let him. The way you listened kept his eyes on you. You had genuine interest in who he was, beyond the hunter he had been.

“So, did you two want to have dinner with us, or should I just get a couple candles?” Sam teased as he made his way up the couple of steps into the library.

You jumped a little and blushed while Dean just chuckled, taking one more look at you before his brother. “What’s dinner? Please tell me it isn’t more rabbit food,” Dean groaned teasingly. He’d never admit that there were times he didn’t mind eating something healthy.

Sam just gave him a bitch face, and you burst into laughter. I think I’m gonna like it here, you thought to yourself. “Well, everyone knows cats are carnivores. So, no rabbit food for me,” you stated in a matter-of-factly tone, getting in on the playfulness. Sam’s expression never changed.

“Great. Now I have to put up with two of you,” he grumbled, almost glaring at Dean when the two of you erupted in laughter. Sam wouldn’t admit it, but he truly hoped you would say yes and stay there. He hadn’t seen his brother this relaxed in a while.

After managing to catch your breath, you finally looked back up at Sam. “I’m okay with rabbit, I mean, healthy food. Just don’t make me only eat healthy food, please,” you told him, a little softer as a smile began toying with his lips.

“Oh, she is so a keeper,” Sam chuckled. “Dinner’ll be ready in about ten minutes,” he added before heading back into the kitchen, still chuckling slightly.

When you looked back at Dean, all those teenager feelings washed over you. I’m a grown-ass woman. I shouldn’t be feeling like a damned teenager. It was how he was looking at you. It wasn’t quite desire, but it wasn’t quite longing. It wasn’t quite anything specific, and that was the frustrating part. It really was a little bit of everything all rolled into one.

Whether Dean would admit it or not, he knew it was over for him. You had his heart. That both terrified and puzzled him. Well, sort of. He figured he was destined to be alone. Over the years, he had met a lot of people and not once had he come across his soulmate. So, he figured he just didn’t have one. Plus, being a hunter, he wasn’t exactly guaranteed a long life. 

The moment his eyes had landed on you in the library, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, but also like, for the first time in his life, he could truly take a deep breath. It wasn’t your physical beauty, although, to him, you had looked like an angel. He hadn’t been able to find words, so he had stayed quiet. Then, when the two of you did start talking, he found his mind wandering to things he had given up years ago.

Then you got mouthy in a playful way with his brother, like you had been friends for years, and those three little words nearly slipped out when you looked at him again. God, I am in so much trouble, he thought to himself, swallowing hard and taking a shaky breath. “He still didn’t tell us what dinner was,” Dean chuckled, trying to find the confidence he typically had tons of around women, but around you, it seemed to falter.

You chuckled with him. “Then I’m gonna guess it’s rabbit food for dinner.” Dean glanced toward the kitchen, then back at you as a mischievous smile teased his lips. “Come on,” he said quickly, taking your hand in his as he stood, already moving toward the archway of the library.

Your lips parted as you let him lead you somewhere, but you weren’t looking where. Your eyes were on him. He looked how you felt, like a giddy teenager and it made you smile. Dean led you down a hallway, then another, through a door, and down a spiral staircase. His hand was warm around yours, and you didn’t want to let go, but when you saw his Baby, you did.

He watched as you took in the car, gently running your hand over her hood. “She’s beautiful,” you whispered, a soft smile toying with your lips as you made your way to the passenger side where Dean was. With his heart hammering in his chest, he opened the door for you, closed it once you were seated comfortably, and jogged over to the driver’s side. Sam’s gonna kill me. He had that boyish grin on his lips as he started the engine, glancing at you just in time to see you smile, your hand resting on the dash. I hope she decides to stay. He took a deep breath before pulling out of the garage as AC/DC Thunderstruck played in the background. You rested your arm on the open window, then looked over at Dean, smiling at his antics. “So, where are we going?” you asked, enjoying his spontaneity. 

“For real food,” he smirked, pressing down on the gas as he got to the road, the purr of the engine easing the tension in his shoulders. 

You watched him as he drove, totally forgetting about your ears at the moment and how other people might react to them. Dean looked relaxed behind the wheel, like he belonged there. Or perhaps it was a place where he could just be himself. No one around to put on a front for. It wasn’t until the wind from the open window kept hitting the sensitive hairs near your ear, making it twitch, that you remembered them.

“Umm… what about my ears and my tail?” you asked, frowning a little that he’d probably just take you back to the bunker now.

He glanced over at you, then back at the road while he considered that. “Well, I’ve got a bandana we could cover your ears with. It’s in the glove box. I can hit the drive-through, and we can eat somewhere else. I’ve got the perfect spot,” he answered as his smile only grew.

Upon opening the glove box, you found the bandana and a slew of other things. It looked slightly new, but it had clearly been used for wiping greasy hands on. Dean pulled over and put the Impala in park, then shifted so he was slightly facing you. Without giving you a chance, he playfully plucked the bandana out of your hands, then draped it over your head as you met his gaze. 

He gently tied it under your chin, carefully flattening your ears, not wanting to hurt you. “I’m okay,” you told him, watching his expression as he watched your ears beneath the bandana. 

After he adjusted it a little, he leaned back and looked at you, a smile finding his lips again, “Perfect.”

Dean got the two of you back on the road while you shifted so that your tail was against the door instead of on the other side of you. This way, if someone looked in his window, they wouldn’t see your tail. It was a comfortable day, but your gaze was on Dean as he drove, the small town shops passing by unnoticed by you. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, being bound to him. So, that was what you thought about, how life might be, with him. Dean, on the other hand, was thinking about you in ways he’d given up so long ago. Could he dare to dream again?

After Dean ordered the two of you burgers and fries, he drove to a little clearing in the forest near the bunker and parked. There was a skip in his step as he went over and opened your door, holding his hand out and helping you out. “Wait right here,” he told you, feeling giddy and nervous simultaneously, mostly because you could still say no. 

His excitement was infectious, bringing a playful chuckle out of you as you watched him. Dean grabbed a blanket out of the trunk of the Impala, then the food before setting it up like a sunset picnic in the woods. You couldn’t see the horizon to watch the sun set, but the sky above the clearing changed with beautiful shades of oranges, reds, and yellows the further down the sun got. 

By the time the stars came out, you and Dean had finished eating, sitting across from each other and talking about whatever topic came up. That was about when Dean realized you were still wearing the bandana over your ears. He slid closer to you, less than a foot away, as he carefully undid the tie under your chin. Slowly, he slipped the bandana off your ears, watching in the moonlight as they straightened out, twitching slightly with the sounds of the forest around the two of you.

You had nearly gotten lost in his eyes with as close as he’d gotten. There were so many emotions swimming in those emerald orbs that it took your breath away. When he didn’t pull away immediately, your lips parted slightly while your tail flopped lazily behind you.

If it wasn’t for Dean’s phone going off, again, he probably would have kissed you. You saw what you thought might be frustration as he tended to his phone.

“I’m fine. She’s fine. God, we’re not even that far away,” he grumbled, sitting up a little straighter with the phone to his ear.

A quiet giggle slipped out as you watched him. It was intriguing to you that you could also hear the person on the other end of the line.

“What are you two doing? And don’t say sex, Dean,” Cas stated bluntly, to which Dean groaned.

“I took her out for real food, alright? We’ll be back in a bit,” Dean sighed, not wanting to get into it over the phone. He knew Cas knew about how he was with women, but you were different. You weren’t just some hookup to take his mind off his everyday life.

“Has she said yes yet?” Cas asked, sounding hopeful.

Another sigh left Dean’s lips, “No. I’m not gonna push her either,” he answered sternly.

His friends really care about him, you thought to yourself, just watching him as he spoke on the phone. The two went back and forth for a bit longer before he hung up the phone, slumping forward a little with his phone in his hand in his lap. He hadn’t even noticed that you had scooted a little closer.

“You’d rather let this curse kill you than feel like you forced me into this, wouldn’t you?” you asked quietly, the softness of your voice nearly pulling his gaze to yours.

For several long moments, he was quiet, not quite sure how to say what was going through his head. “My life, it’s not easy. I could die on any case I go on, and that isn’t fair to you. If you go through with the binding process, and I end up dying, the pain you’ll feel will be worse because we’re soulmates,” he explained quietly. Dean never was one who was good with words, but he was trying.

You tilted your head a bit and watched him again. “Then my answer is yes,” you told him softly.

His head snapped up, staring at you as the emotions flooded his system, unable to latch onto any single one. “Why?” was about the only word he could manage to get out.

A small smile found your lips. “You’re a good man with a good heart,” you replied softly, and the tenderness in your eyes nearly took his breath away. 

It took everything in him not to just kiss you, but a smirk slowly found his lips. “You’re amazing,” he breathed out, trying to catch his breath and keep his body in check.

You giggled as a light blush made its way to your cheeks. “And you’re adorable.” He had to hold himself back, but you didn’t miss the tiny movement he restrained. You absentmindedly licked your lips, the movement catching his eyes for a brief second.

Dean took a shaky breath, forcing his mind to focus on anything other than you: your lips, the way your ears twitched, the sparkle in your eyes, and how close you had gotten. “We should, uh… head back,” he muttered, feeling like a teenager again. 

An almost disappointed feeling settled into your stomach. “Alright,” you replied, not sure what had happened or why he was pulling away. To you, it seemed like an amazing moment for a first kiss, but you weren’t going to push for it.

The two of you cleaned up in an awkward silence, which followed you on the drive back to the bunker. Both of you lost in your own thoughts of how the evening had gone. He was pulling into the bunker’s garage before you knew it. Again, he opened your door for you, and as the two of you walked into the room with the map table, your hand brushed against his. 

Before either of you could even process how it had felt, Sam and Cas were standing there. You could practically feel the worry that seemed to be coming off them in waves. “Um, is there a room or place I can sleep tonight?” you asked, trying to find a topic that wasn’t about the binding spell, even though you’d said yes.

Sam glanced at Dean, another one of those silent conversations that you mentally told yourself you’d figure out. “Yeah, I’ll show you,” Sam replied, gesturing toward the hallway behind you.

As you walked away with Sam, Cas looked back at Dean. “Well?” he asked, both curious and slightly impatient.

“Well, what?” Dean played stupid, trying to sort through what being around you did to him. He wasn’t used to having to control himself this much or having all those emotions at the surface. Typically, he kept them buried, dealing with them alone.

Cas rolled his eyes. “Dean, this is serious.”

Dean couldn’t help it nor control the smile that began taking over his lips again at just the thought of you. “She said yes,” he finally admitted, and there was hope in his eyes again and a giddiness in his tone.

Cas’s smile went to his eyes. “I’ll get everything ready.”

—---------------

“So, how’d it go?” Sam asked, finding the silence a little awkward as he walked you down the hallway toward the rooms.

“It went really good. Dean seems like a good guy,” you replied, still mulling over how different he was from in the library to when the two of you were having dinner together.

He glanced down at you, finding the height different kind of adorable. “He is. He just doesn’t always know how to let people in. So, if he tries to push you away or seems distant, it’s because of that,” Sam explained gently.

A small smile tugged at your lips as his hesitance earlier finally made sense. “Thanks. That helps. So, should I give him space or try to comfort him when he does that?” you asked, looking up at him as both of you stopped in the hallway.

For a moment he looked down at you as he processed what your words meant. “You said yes, didn’t you?” he asked, unable to hide his joy, for multiple reasons.

You giggled, “Yeah. How could I say no? I mean, he seems genuine. Plus, he’s hot,” you replied, adding the last part not only to lighten the mood but because it was true.

Sam laughed playfully, “Then you’ll probably be sharing Dean’s room.”

That made you blush and look away. You hadn’t considered that part yet, mainly because you weren’t sure what would happen after the binding spell. Not completely, anyway. “Oh,” you replied sheepishly.

He chuckled a bit more before he put his arm over your shoulders, leading you back out to the war room. “Come on. He’s probably out there smiling like an idiot while Cas is setting things up.”

The blush in your cheeks only deepened, but inside, you felt giddy, like a teenager about to talk to her crush. “He likes you, you know. You’re not just some random girl to him. I could tell when I asked you two about dinner. Then, when he took off like he did with you,” he laughed quietly. “I’ve never seen him this smitten before.”

His words warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t express. “Honestly, I’m a little smitten with him too,” you admitted shyly.

That brought a relieved smile to his lips. This could have gone so differently had things gone bad. Not only was he not going to lose his brother, but in a way, he was gaining a sister, you. 

—----------------------

Sam hadn’t been wrong. Dean was leaning against the library table where Cas was attempting to focus on the spell while talking to Dean. Dean, however, had his arms crossed with a goofy smile adorning his face, lost in his thoughts.

“Dean, this would go faster if you would help,” Cas told him, slightly frustrated as he placed another amount of another herb into the bowl.

“Sorry. Just thinking about getting to kiss her,” he replied dreamily.

Cas rolled his eyes, “That’s at the end.”

The smile on Dean’s face only got bigger, “I know,” he sighed just as dreamily.

“What’s this about a kiss?” you asked, your tone a little teasing as you and Sam entered the library, instantly pulling Dean from his daydream.

He straightened up, clearing his throat and trying to compose himself. “Um, we have to uh… kiss, after Cas does the spell,” Dean answered, trying desperately not to sound nervous or too eager.

Sam went to help Cas, barely keeping his amusement in check at his brother’s behavior while you went over and stood in front of Dean. You didn’t miss how he took a shaky breath when your eyes met his. For a brief moment, you wondered if, to him, it was like he was marrying you, but you didn’t want to ask.

“Are you nervous about kissing me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, but your tone was playful, drawing a larger smile from him.

“No,” he replied, trying to sound confident as the butterflies danced to a rave in his stomach. Dean was having a hard time not giving in to the feelings of pulling you into his arms just to be that much closer to you. He wasn’t entirely sure how much stronger it would get after Cas did the spell.

You smiled up at him, “Good. I’d hate for my soulmate to be nervous of something like that.” 

The playfulness of your tone had Dean biting his bottom lip, instantly drawing your attention to the movement. You absentmindedly licked your own, and you swore you heard a faint groan slip from Dean. 

“Are you two just gonna stare at each other, or are you ready?” Sam asked, trying not to let his amusement get the better of him. 

When you turned away, Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “What do I need to do?” you asked, tilting your head, just a bit.

Cas directed you to stand near the bowl of herbs, Dean next to you. Each of you held out your left hand near the bowl. “I have to make a cut on your hand when it’s time,” Cas explained gently.

“Dean told me earlier. It’s okay,” you replied with a reassuring smile.

Dean was in utter awe of you. In less than a day, your entire world had quite literally changed, and now, you were about to open up a connection to someone you had just met. Yeah, the two of you had talked and gotten to know each other a little, and he’d told you the things he liked about you, but there were no words that he could find that truly conveyed his admiration of you.

You were watching Cas, listening to the Latin words as he spoke them, wishing you could understand what the words meant. Dean, though, was watching you, completely lost in everything that was you. The only thing that pulled him from his thoughts was the blade across his palm, a hiss leaving his lips.

“You could have warned me,” he grumbled, making Sam chuckle.

“I did. You weren’t paying attention,” Cas stated plainly before cutting your hand. Both of you tilted your hands, balling them into fists as your blood dripped down into the bowl. Sam wrapped your hand in a bandana, then Dean’s, as Cas continued with the spell. You watched as Cas lit a match, picked up the binding rings, and tossed the match into the bowl.

As the smoke danced through the air, Cas moved the binding rings through the smoke, saying a few more words in Latin before he turned to the two of you. He then handed one ring to each of you. So far, you didn’t feel any different when you took one of the rings from Cas.

It looked like a simple ring made of some sort of metal. You just weren’t entirely sure what, but you didn’t have long to contemplate its material as Dean held his right hand out to you. He had said it was only like marriage. With a small, soft smile, you slipped the ring on his ring finger, noticing how he let out a shaky breath.

Then, he took your right hand in his, trying to prepare himself for what was to come as he slid the ring on your ring finger. His hands only trembled slightly, but he held yours as his eyes slowly lifted to your face. Your ears were twitching as your tail swayed almost happily behind you. He barely heard the last few lines of the spell as Cas spoke them before there was silence, and you tilted your head. “Dean?” Cas asked, a little confused as to why he hadn’t kissed you yet. “I’m done with the spell.”

Sam chuckled as you smiled a little, but Dean couldn’t seem to bring himself to move. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You reached up and cupped his cheek, then stood on your tiptoes since he was a bit taller than you. For a moment, you searched his expression for anything that might show hesitation. When you found none, you placed your lips on his and closed your eyes.

It was enough to pull Dean into the moment, one of his hands moving to your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he moved his lips against yours. That was when you felt it move through you, a warmth that was different than anything you’d felt before. Neither of you even noticed that Cas and Sam were already cleaning up, too lost in the moment with each other.

Your body instinctively moved to be closer to him, and he didn’t shy away. You were his now, and he was going to spend every day showing you just how much you meant to him. When he did finally pull away, he rested his forehead against yours, trying to catch his breath. As your eyes met his, a smile found your lips, but it began tugging into a playful smirk. “So, since I saved your life, looks like you owe me one,” you teased playfully, a small chuckle slipping out.

Dean had completely forgotten about having been cursed, so the look of surprise that found his expression was genuine, but Sam chuckled in the background. “Yup, she’ll fit in just fine,” Sam teased his brother, making him roll his eyes.

Then, Dean’s lips curled into a smirk, mischief dancing in his eyes. “You’ll only get to hold that over my head for so long,” he replied in a low, gruff teasing that sent a tantalizing shiver down your spine.

“We’ll see,” you quipped but squealed in surprise when he picked you up bridal style, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to hold on. A deep laugh erupted from him as he began carrying you toward the hallway.

“I like your smartmouth, too. Let’s see what else it’s capable of,” he told you in a teasing whisper.

Your heart sped up as your breathing hitched, but you licked your lips as all sorts of thoughts began playing through your mind. As you watched him while he carried you to his room, a smile found your lips, and you realized quickly that you would never leave him. That somehow, the two of you would be able to get through anything life in this world threw at the two of you. It brought a sense of peace to you that you’d never had before, and you relaxed against his chest, letting out a content sigh. 

No matter how hard things get, I’m not going anywhere.

----------------------------------------- Touched Master List Main Master List

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[lightdancingwords]

One Day - Part Three of ?

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character

Series Summary: You were rescued by Dean Winchester a long time ago. Over time, you kept bumping into each other.

Word Count: 2948

Tags/Warnings: Violence, profanity, angst, argument, monsters/supernatural, grief and death

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! This story is AU as it does veer a bit from the history we see in Season 1 of Supernatural. There will be references to episodes and seasons, but it'll change as the chapters come. Enjoy the ride!

Dividers: credit to @talesmaniac89

Chapter Three: The Psychic of Missouri

Dean Winchester tightened his grip on the Impala’s steering wheel as he navigated through Lawrence, Kansas. Beside him, Sam shifted in his seat, restless. Dean was tense—returning to their childhood home dredged up memories he didn’t want to face. Yet, Sam had been persuasive in convincing him to come back due to some uneasy dreams.

Christ. Psychic dreams. His baby brother… was a fucking psychic. What the damn hell. God.

Still, he was happy to have Sam back, if not under ideal circumstances. John went on a hunt and went missing. Though it was more or less clear that John was choosing to avoid his sons, Dean was convinced something was wrong.

Sam had been reluctant to help out at first. That all changed when the same creature that killed their mother also killed Sam’s girlfriend, Jessica. Now both brothers were determined to find out why their father was avoiding them.

What Sam didn’t know was that Dean had been calling his father incessantly, leaving voicemail galore. Worst of all, John wasn’t responding. It was killing Dean that his father essentially abandoned them… again.

“Look, man, I don’t know what you’re expecting at this house,” Dean said to Sam, trying to convince his brother to drop this nonsense. He really, really didn’t want to see that house again.

“I know, Dean,” Sam said, fighting to explain it in a way Dean would understand or even just accept. “It’s just… we have to be there. Something’s wrong.”

Dean sighed, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel. “All right, fine.”

The Impala’s engine growled as Dean pulled up outside the house he once called home. He had a few small memories that he remembered outside of watching his mother burn on the ceiling. Some of them were actually nice, like the apple pies his mother made him. Her warm hugs. The way she’d touch his cheek.

His heart ached at remembering Mary. It’d been 22 years and the grief never left him. All the beer, all the women, all the hunts… it’d never leave him.

“All right… let’s go.”

Learning that Sam had been right about something off in their old house, learning from Sari that something was haunting the house, had not been on Dean’s bingo list. More, discovering that John consulted psychics galore to track down the who and what that killed Mary was another shock.

Just what the hell was John keeping from them? Except Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to confront his father, not really. That always had been Sam’s thing… and God, Dean envied him that strength.

Missouri… was an interesting woman. She clued in on Sam’s grief, scolded him for mentally cussing her out, and even threatened him with a spoon if he put his boots on her coffee table. Christ, he’d never been so spooked before and he faced a goddamned Wendigo.

Then the other surprise hit him in the face—at least, not literally this time.

“You can come in now,” Missouri said to someone just over her shoulder.

Sam and Dean looked up, confused. Then Dean’s eyes widened. He was about to say something when Missouri scolded him again.

“What did I say about swearing?”

Dean stopped, swallowed hard, and sat up straight. “Y/N… what are you doing here?”

Exasperated, Missouri rolled her eyes at Dean. “Lord help me, I don’t know where you get your manners. She’s here because she needed my help, same as you.”

Sam glanced back and forth between Y/N and Dean, confused. “I’m sorry, could someone fill me in?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Dean, turned to Sam and offered her hand. “I’m Y/N. I met Dean a couple of years back. He helped save me from a vampire. Then a few months ago we bumped into each other again.”

Sam shook her hand. “So you’re another a hunter?”

“Yes—”

“No,” Dean said firmly. “She’s just playing at one.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Dean. “That’s not what you said at the asylum.”

“Yeah, well, I changed my mind. You’re not a hunter. You should go back, go home, pretend none of this stuff happened,” Dean said, irritated.

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, right. Like we could forget everything that happened to us?”

Y/N nodded at Sam. That made Dean even more grumpy. “That’s not the point, Sam. Y/N’s only been in this shit for a couple of years. We’ve been in it our whole lives! She remembers what it’s like to be normal!”

The penny dropped for Y/N. Up until that moment, she hadn’t been sure what Sam was in this equation. Now she knew: he was Dean’s brother.

“So you lied to me,” Y/N said angrily. “You said you understood why I couldn’t go back.”

Dean scowled. Before he could say anything more, Missouri spoke up. “That’s enough out of you, all of you. We have business to attend to.”

Sam nodded. “Our old house. There’s something there. Something inside.”

Dean huffed. He was pissed. He was pissed and he was scared and God, he hated it. Sam was becoming increasingly weird. His father was avoiding them. And seeing that damned house….

Y/N glanced at him and something softened in her gaze. He wondered what she knew. He certainly didn’t tell her anything, but what if Missouri did? God…

Sam was relaying to Missouri what he sensed and dreamed. The older woman nodded and declared, “Let’s go see that house.”

“What about Y/N?” Dean asked, testy. He was so not having this.

“She can come with and don’t you sass me boy,” Missouri said, cutting off his protest. “This is a good learning experience for her. Plus, I think it’d help her solve her problem.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He was in Hell. Sam nudged him and pulled him close so they could talk quietly.

“Hey… what’s going on? What’s the big deal about Y/N?” Sam studied his older brother, the way he was clenching his jaw, evasive with his eyes.

Dean’s nostrils flared as he fought to keep his temper. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea she’s coming with. She’s practically a kid, Sam.”

Sam glanced over at Y/N, saw the way she carried herself. She was straight-backed and lean, with the measured movements of someone who learned to husband her energy.

“Is it true?” the younger Winchester asked.

Irritated, Dean scowled up at Sam. “Is what true?”

“That you accepted her being a hunter.”

More scowling. “Shut up, Sam. Let’s go.”

Seeing the Winchester house again so soon after their first visit must’ve been weird for Jenny, the new owner of the house. Missouri did everything she could to reassure the young mother, but Dean could tell Jenny was freaked.

Y/N on the other… While Missouri did her psychic crap, the young female hunter stayed quiet, looked around, even chatted up with Jenny.

So why the hell was Dean so mad? Well, that was unfortunately easy for him to understand. It was the house. It was seeing memories, ghosts of Christmas past.

He remembered his mother being upset with John on the phone and came over to reassure her that it would be okay. He’d hugged her, tried to take his mother’s heartache.

He’d been a goddamned child. He shouldn’t have had to do that, but he felt so responsible for them all.

Seeing Y/N in the midst of it was like a knife in the gut. He didn’t want her embroiled in any of this shit. Instead, she was, and he wanted to tear his hair out over it.

“You gonna tell me why you went to Missouri?” Dean asked, his voice low and rumbly. Y/N looked up and gave him a flat look. God, it should be a crime to look that hot while being coldly furious with him.

“I needed a psychic,” she said at last. “Missouri’s come up often when I looked into them. And she definitely nailed the issues I had before I even said them out loud.”

His smile was fleeting. Given how Missouri nailed Sam with the statement about his loss and got to Dean without him ever saying a word, he was inclined to believe Missouri was the one to talk to regarding the house’s history.

Missouri came back downstairs briskly. “There’s definitely some bad energy here. We got work to do.”

“What? Her too?” Dean asked in open exasperation regarding Y/N’s involvement.

He saw Y/N’s spine stuffed and was pleased at seeing her temper. Good. Maybe they could fight it out and it’ll turn into a make out session.

Missouri bopped him upside the head. “Act like a gentleman,” she said sharply. “I know your daddy didn’t teach you to be this rude.”

Dean cringed, rubbed his head and stared at Missouri. “I wasn’t doing anything!”

“But you were thinking it,” Missouri retorted. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think of that girl that way.”

He scowled at Missouri. Sam actually smirked as he came back to them. He liked seeing Missouri put Dean in his place, just a little bit. Dean scowled.

God. After this, he was going to want to drown a bit in beer and breasts. Maybe Y/N’s breasts. Then Missouri glared at him and he grabbed his libido and shoved it back into a box. He seemed to have to do that a lot when Y/N was around.

Y/N’s gaze shifted between Dean and Missouri and smirked. “Do I want to know?”

“I’d say something but she might smack me again,” Dean grumbled. He wanted to flirt. Something to distract himself. However, Missouri was putting a kibosh on all his favorite activities and distractions.

Her smile widened and her eyes sparkled. Y/N really had gorgeous eyes. He’d forgotten. “You’re scared of her. More scared than you were with the vampire or the ghost.”

“I’m not scared,” he protested.

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not!”

Y/N was laughing as she walked away. Damn, she had a nice ass.

It didn’t take much to convince Jenny to get her to take the kids out for a movie and give them time to cleanse the house of the stubborn poltergeist.

Seeing Y/N walk around his childhood home gave Dean a funny feeling, like his chest was being compressed. He didn’t like it. He honestly did not do well dealing with feelings. Like John, he just sat on it until he blew up.

He couldn’t do that this time. He couldn’t blow up, he couldn’t sit on it. It festered and gnawed at him. God, he couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.

Y/N kept looking at him and he twitched under her inscrutable gaze.

“What?!” he asked, snapping irritably.

Y/N shook her head and that made it worse.

“Then quit looking at me like that,” he said, grumpy as Missouri mixed whatever the hell it was they needed to cast the poltergeist out.

“Dean,” Sam said, trying to deflect and calm his brother.

“It’s all right, Sam,” Y/N said gently. She looked back at Dean. “It’s about your mom, isn’t it?”

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. “How the hell did you know that? Did Sam tell you?” God, if his baby brother blabbed, Dean was gonna punch him one.

Missouri rolled her eyes at the toxic display of machismo and kept on working. Her mix was almost ready.

“God, no,” Y/N said with exasperation in every breath. “I read up on it. I…” She glanced over at Missouri, then back at the brothers. “I’ve been doing a lot of research.”

“Great. Another book nerd.” She really was like a female Sam.

Y/N was undeterred. “Things about poltergeists and ghosts and how they connect to what’s left behind. Which meant reading about traumatic deaths, murders… unusual deaths.”

Comprehension dawned in Sam’s eyes. “And you found out about our mom.”

“Yes. I knew this was your home,” Y/N said gently.

Dean’s jaw clenched tightly.

“I went to Missouri for more information about spirits in particular. I guess I wanted to understand the afterlife or at least life after death,” Y/N said carefully.

Missouri looked up at Y/N and there was a look that read she knew more about Y/N’s motives than she was admitting. Dean saw it, knew it’d take a stallion or something to drag it out of the psychic.

“The Winchester fire and… what happened to your mother… came up in my reading,” Y/N said finally.

“So what do you think?” Sam asked curiously, like an eager puppy.

Y/N considered it. “It’s not your mom,” she said at last. “I think there’s another reason why there’s a poltergeist here. Maybe it was drawn to the violent death, drove out all the previous owners and tenants.”

Missouri quirked a brow. “Are you sure you’re not psychic too?”

“No offense, Missouri,” Y/N said with a weak smile. “I really hope not.”

“Same. You don’t wanna know what’s in that boy’s mind,” Missouri said with a nod to Dean.

Dean bristled, but kept quiet. Sam nudged him as if to convince him to talk, and Dean shoved him back hard. Sam laughed.

Y/N gave Dean a thoughtful look and somehow he felt naked in that moment. Not a good naked; the scary kind where he was 4 years old again and watching his mother die.

He cleared his throat and nodded. “Let’s go get to work,” he said roughly.

They thought it was over. Sam knew better. Despite Dean’s misgivings, the brothers—and Y/N—were camped out in the Impala. The initial cleansing worked, Dean insisted. Sam believed otherwise.

Y/N offered to come with because she was curious about them. Dean was super-irritated. Bad enough he had to help wrangle his brother free from a cord choking him, smash holes in the wall and dump Missouri’s poltergeist dust into the wall. Oh no, they had to come back and keep a watch out because Sam had a ‘feeling’.

So much beer after this.

Then they saw it: Jenny pounding on the upstairs window. The trio spilled out of the Impala running for the house. Dean had to kick in the door, barked an order for Sam and Y/N to grab Sari and Richie while he grabbed Jenny.

Dean got Jenny out quickly, only to realize Sam still hadn’t come back down. He was about to run up when Y/N came out with both kids.

“Where’s Sam?” he demanded from Y/N.

“He handed me Richie and told me to run,” Y/N said, breathless. “Dean, something has him!”

Dean wasted no more time. His father’s voice echoed in his head, ordering him to take Sam and run. He’d been tasked to keep his brother safe and by God, he would.

Y/N was right behind him. For once he was grateful to not face this alone.

Before they could regroup, a woman’s voice echoed through the room. “Leave them alone!”

The figure of Mary Winchester appeared, her presence radiant and protective. She stood between the trio and the poltergeist, her gaze fierce.

“Mom?” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Mary didn’t look at him, her focus solely on the spirit. “You don’t belong here,” she said firmly. The poltergeist shrieked, its form twisting and writhing as Mary’s light engulfed it. With one final cry, it vanished.

The room fell silent. Mary turned to her sons, her expression softening. “Dean. Sam.”

Dean stepped forward, his voice breaking. “Mom?”

“You’ve grown so much,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you both.”

Sam’s voice trembled. “Why are you here?”

Mary’s form began to fade. “To protect you. To protect them.” She glanced at them, her eyes full of love.

And with that, she was gone.

The silence in the room was deafening. Dean’s hands clenched into fists, his emotions warring within him. Sam placed a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Y/N broke the silence. “We should check on Jenny and the kids.”

Dean nodded, his jaw tight. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Missouri was waiting for them at her home that night. Her knowing eyes met Dean’s, and she nodded. “She did what she needed to do.”

Dean’s voice was rough. “She shouldn’t have had to.”

Missouri placed a hand on his arm. “Sometimes, love is stronger than anything else. Even death.”

Dean was mulling that as he walked Y/N to her car. Her vehicle was a Honda Elsment, compact but designed to use space well. “So… how much you wanna punch me?”

Y/N actually snorted. Absurdly, he found that appealing. “Earlier, I really wanted to.” Her gaze softened, just a bit. “Not so much after that.”

“I still don’t like you being a hunter. I’ll be honest. Don’t do it, Y/N.” Dean looked pained, “Go back to your life.”

”I can’t, Dean,” she said quietly. Damn it. She had that soft voice that just cut through him. “I can’t live in ignorance or pretend this isn’t happening.”

He shook his head. “You’re stubborn.”

“Back atcha, Winchester.”

He quirked a half smile. “First time we met, you kissed me. Second time, I let you walk away.”

Her brows swooped up and she smiled. “And the third time?”

He barely let her finish before he framed her face with his hands and captured her lips in a kiss. In the midst of it as he explored her mouth, tasted her, he felt her hands slide up his chest.

When he eventually broke the kiss, when he finally let her go, he smirked at her. “Can’t wait to see what happens when I see you again, Y/N.”

She let out a breath, her cheeks flushed. “What makes you so sure we’ll see each other again?”

He grinned. “Call it a hunch, sweetheart.”

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[wildwestdean]

impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park. 

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you. 

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait. 

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.” 

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach. 

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?” 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together. 

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like. 

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.” 

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.” 

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets. 

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be. 

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo. 

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun. 

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.” 

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.” 

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building. 

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock. 

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?” 

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.” 

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold. 

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you. 

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?” 

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.” 

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.” 

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance. 

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs. 

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker. 

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed. 

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall. 

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way. 

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles. 

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you. 

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere. 

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun. 

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!” 

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision. 

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you. 

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!” 

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her. 

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.” 

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent. 

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on. 

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.” 

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up. 

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood. 

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him. 

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.” 

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down. 

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand. 

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?” 

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.” 

“What?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?” 

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?” 

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket. 

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress. 

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks. 

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you. 

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat. 

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously. 

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?” 

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.  

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink. 

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker. 

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand. 

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall. 

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say. 

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?” 

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion. 

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.” 

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.” 

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink. 

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam. 

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically. 

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer. 

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean. 

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away. 

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on. 

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table. 

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.” 

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth. 

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you. 

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter. 

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar. 

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away. 

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you. 

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice. 

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded. 

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?” 

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car. 

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you. 

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats. 

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?” 

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?” 

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff. 

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.” 

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!” 

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.” 

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance. 

“What, why?” you asked in confusion. 

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.” 

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off. 

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned. 

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.” 

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy. 

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders. 

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done. 

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom. 

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand. 

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran. 

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you. 

He couldn’t save you. 

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart. 

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him. 

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.  

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind. 

“Dean.” 

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came. 

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above. 

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut. 

“God dammit, Dean!” 

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer. 

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt. 

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.” 

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice. 

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him. 

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out. 

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current. 

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.” 

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order. 

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone. 

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name. 

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere. 

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order. 

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink. 

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him. 

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake. 

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang. 

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.” 

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?” 

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle. 

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?” 

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.” 

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice. 

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not. 

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.   

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself. 

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration. 

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.” 

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation. 

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.” 

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?” 

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!” 

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.” 

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed. 

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief. 

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?” 

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!” 

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.” 

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?” 

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!” 

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?” 

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.” 

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!” 

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?” 

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?” 

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff. 

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-” 

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?” 

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!” 

“Right,” Sam said sceptically.  “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!” 

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared. 

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively. 

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.” 

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.” 

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued. 

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.” 

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on. 

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin. 

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction. 

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen. 

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully. 

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge. 

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen. 

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway. 

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly. 

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child. 

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.  

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do. 

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything. 

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.” 

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!” 

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him. 

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion. 

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife. 

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?” 

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?” 

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes. 

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily. 

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call. 

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more. 

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered.  So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do. 

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.” 

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late. 

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.” 

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?” 

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.” 

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.” 

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation. 

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.” 

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner. 

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water. 

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water. 

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself. 

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding. 

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant. 

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.” 

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him. 

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.” 

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered. 

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.” 

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you. 

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly. 

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.” 

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” 

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again. 

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.” 

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him. 

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.” 

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?” 

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.” 

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.” 

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door. 

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out. 

“It’s not gonna kill me!” 

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?” 

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?” 

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.” 

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign. 

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.” 

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!” 

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.” 

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.” 

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.” 

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“You know what,” you scolded. 

“This is so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly. 

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.” 

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him. 

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.” 

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head. 

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.” 

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed. 

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully. 

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.” 

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.” 

“I do,” you agreed quietly. 

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.” 

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?” 

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.” 

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly. 

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].” 

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle. 

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently. 

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.” 

“Right,” you agreed. 

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly. 

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.” 

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously. 

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.” 

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off. 

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.” 

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say. 

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.” 

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.” 

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while. 

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.” 

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build. 

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.” 

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.” 

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.” 

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question. 

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat. 

“Okay,” he said with a huff. 

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly. 

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you. 

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened. 

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked. 

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.” 

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more. 

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.” 

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly. 

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?” 

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.” 

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?” 

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?” 

“Always,” you said honestly. 

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed. 

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. 

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly. 

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more. 

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things. 

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest. 

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares. 

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest. 

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[fluffsnake]

𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵. 𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵—𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘌𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. Ninety One Whiskey by komodobits

*whispers* you know you want to read Ninety One Whiskey ooooo you just know it

oh hey where's this link lead to I wonder 👀

Anywhoo, I saw this art meme on twitter and I just knew I had to do it to with them 😩

here's some process stages since I was terrified it wouldn't turn out right :,) it's not perfect but I am happy with the final result ;w; stop thinking about how Cas could've been scruffier and both could've been sweatier or how some grass in the bg might've looked nice maybe STOPPP

[samsno1]

warnings: sub-ish!dean, breeding kink (whoops!)

sorry, i'm a sucker for sub dean, dont blame me

He was mesmerized, looking at where your bodies connected, as your slick made his dick shine under the poor lightning of the motel. He refused to tear his eyes away from it.

You were gripping him so tight and so good, the way you clenched around him making him practically whimper in your ear. You were eager to take more out of him, his noises bringing even more arousal to your hazy mind.

He held your hips strongly, his fingers squeezing everytime you grinded your hips back on his. His head was burried in your neck leaving wet kisses and dark hickeys where he could. Dean was desperate for you.

"You feel s'good" He panted and you groaned. He sounded high, drunk on your scent and the smell of sex that filled the room. "So warm and so, fuck- and so tight, God, please"

He sobbed, your hands roaming his back, one of them going up to his hair. You tug on it, making Dean let out a high pitched groan. Your mouth comes closer to his ear.

"Tell me what you want baby" Your voice deep with desire. A shiver runs down his spine and his hips falter slightly at your slight dominance. "You wanna fill me up, hm? Go around telling everyone that you were the one who fucked a baby in me?"

Dean moaned at that, one of his hands unconsciously went to rest over your belly, gently pressing over it. You had to supress a moan as the weight of his hand made his cock seem to be deeper.

"G- Please, please, I'll do anything" He lifted his head to leave a sloppy kiss over your lips, his forehead glued to yours "I'll fill you up so g-uh good, please baby"

You kissed the side of his mouth, not giving him the satisfaction of an actual kiss. "Do it Dean, just be a good boy and make me cum first" You ordered as your hand caressed his cheek and he viciously nodded, his thumb almost immediately going to circle your clit.

"Y-yes...I will, thank you, thank you" He thanked you and started fucking into you harder, stimulating your clit to make you orgasm so he could get his reward afterwards because, after all, he would always be your good boy.

So, yeah, another drabble. I have a couple requests pending and I apologize for that, life's been kicking my ass lately and I've got no motivation to write whatsoever, enjoy the drabbles while I come back to normal LMAO

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

He’s Not A Machine!

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

summary: when dean collapses from exhaustion, it takes everything in you not to beat the shit outta john

pairing: (stanford era) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 4.0k

warnings: hurt/sad dean, language, john being a terrible father, john being an asshole in general but what else is new

pairing note: reader washes/brushes her hair

author’s note: hiiii me again after many moons of zero contact with this lovely website. sorry for taking so long, hopefully i’ll stay a while this time lol.

It’d been nearly four weeks of back-to-back hunts. This was the seventh motel you and the two Winchesters had been at this month and you were almost ready to call it a night. 

“I’m gonna wash this wraith stench off of me,” you told Dean. You then added quietly so John—who was sitting at the table and cleaning his guns—wouldn’t hear; “Would you like to join me, handsome?”

“More than anything,” he whispered before he bent down and kissed you. John coughed loudly, and you weren’t sure if it was just a perfectly timed accident or a purposeful guilt trip. It was most likely the latter. “But… I think it’s better if I don’t, sweetheart.”

You smiled sadly with a small nod; “Next time, then,” you assured him. You looked up into his eyes and noticed the tiredness laced with the usual burden he carried. He blinked unusually slowly as if he was trying his damndest to stay awake, and you furrowed your brows. “How about you head to bed, you can shower after you get some sleep.”

“It’s alright, I’m not that tired,” he said.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” you asked him, barely above a whisper so that John wouldn’t hear.

John didn’t like you. He didn’t really trust your intentions with his son, and he thought you were just a distraction that would end up getting Dean killed if he wasn’t careful. He didn’t like how easily Dean would get ‘all giggly’ when he was near you, and he didn’t like that his son kept his guard down when he was with you.

He didn’t like the matching rings you wore, or that you too often referred to the other as husband or wife when a stranger would ask. You weren’t married, you were his fucking girlfriend and John fully believed you wouldn’t still be together by the time Sam finished his first four years at Stanford. 

“I’m fine,” he replied, matching your quiet tone. “I’ll shower right after you so don’t use up all the hot water, okay?” There was a teasing smirk on his face which made your worries subside temporarily.

“I promise to leave you some,” you said before you kissed him once more.

**

“Dean are you okay?” you asked, seeing the far-off look in his eyes when you left the bathroom.

“Yeah, I uh…” He rubbed his eyes as he tried to again focus on your face. He looked over at his dad, who raised a brow at his eldest son. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

You followed his line of sight and pursed your lips when you saw John.

“Dean says he’s fine, drop it Y/n,” he told you.

Against your better judgment, you decided not to ask Dean again. With your hair still wet from the shower, you took the brush from your bag and started fixing it. 

“Aren’t you gonna shower, babe?” you asked Dean, who hadn’t moved an inch.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. He started to kick off his shoes when he tripped and fell straight to the floor, his cheek now pressed against the carpet.

“Dean!?” you exclaimed and hurried over to him. You fell to your knees and took him into your arms, shaking him gently in hopes he’d just wake up. “Dean? Dean, honey, please? J-John he’s not waking up!” You pressed your lips to his temple; “C’mon, Dean!”

John had left his spot on the couch and was now hovering over you, as you looked up at him desperately.

“Is he breathing?”

“Yeah,” you replied, tears slipping down your cheeks. John helped you lay Dean down so he could check his breathing.

“He seems fine,” John deduced. “Is there a wound we missed or something?”

“W-We need to call an ambulance,” you said and rushed to grab your phone off the nightstand.

“Y/n, Dean wouldn’t want us to call the cops,” John replied. He seemed a little too calm for your liking, so you weren’t about to let him call the shots regarding Dean’s wellbeing.

“I don’t care, we’re getting him to the fucking hospital,” you said as you dialed and made your way back to Dean. “Now hide your goddamn guns before the paramedics get here—I need an ambulance at the Rosebud Motel room 302, my husband just collapsed unexpectedly.” You ignored the look John gave you when you called Dean that. The operator asked questions and you answered each one; “Yes, he’s breathing… No, no bleeding… He’s twenty-five… Uhm, I’m not sure…” You pulled the phone from your ear; “Has he had anything to drink yet tonight?”

John was putting away the guns and paused to think before he shrugged; “I dunno, I wasn’t watching.” 

Your eyes widened and your teeth clenched, the fucking audacity. Looking at the table you saw three opened beers so you made an educated guess when you answered the 9-1-1 operator.

“He might’ve had a beer or two, but he’s not a lightweight, he’d never pass out after two beers… Yes, his dad is in the room with me… Yes, I can stay on the line.” You took in a shaky breath as you brought his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. 

“Just stay calm, ma’am, help is on the way.”

“I’m trying,” you replied, tears streaming down your cheeks as you kept his hand pressed to your lips. “Th-This isn’t like him, he’s–he’s always okay.”

**

You bounced your leg anxiously as you sat next to John in the waiting room. As you absentmindedly played with the ring on your right ring finger, you couldn’t help but think of the time when Dean had told you how much you truly meant to him almost three years ago.

* flashback *

“I got you a present.” His smile was adorable as he sat next to you on the couch. He saw your face light up and felt the need to downplay the gift; “It’s nothing much, don’t get too excited.”

“Dean, you could give me a dirty sock and I’d love it,” you teased, placing a quick kiss on his pink lips.

“Well… this is like one teer above ‘dirty sock’, I think.” He smirked and handed you the small velvet box. 

You opened it and your jaw fell open; “Oh my god, Dean!”

“I know how much you like mine,” he said quietly.

“I do like yous,” you took his right hand in yours and kissed the ring on his finger, “I love yours, Dean.”

“Well, this one is exactly like mine.” He smiled. “Except it’s in your size, obviously, so we can… you know… match.” You took the ring out of the box and admired it for a moment. You were about to put it on but he stopped you; “May I do the honors, sweetheart?” he asked. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips as you nodded and he took it from you. He slipped the ring onto your right ring finger before he kissed your hand. 

“I mean this in the most genuine way possible; this is by far the best gift anyone has ever gotten me, Dean! Ever!”

A sheepish blush was forming on his cheeks as he leaned over and kissed your lips; “I love you so much.” He pulled away so he could look at you; “And, I want you to know this isn’t a regular gift.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your smile growing. 

“Yeah,” he replied and kissed you again. When he pulled away again he chickened out a little and didn’t say what he was going to. “You’re twenty-one, which means you can now legally drink in all fifty states.” He stood up, pulling on your hand gently so you would follow him to the kitchen. He took two beers out of the fridge and put them on the table. He used the ring on his finger to easily open one then handed the other to you. “Why don’t you give it a try.”

It took you a few tries but you managed to open the beer using the ring he just gave you; “Okay, now that’s awesome!”

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Dean said and you clinked your beers together before you both started drinking them. As he brought the bottle down from his lips, he watched as you kept drinking and smiled to himself. He suddenly felt the courage he felt when he bought the ring and decided to tell you his thoughts; “You know you’re the only girl for me, right?” You nodded with a smile. “I don’t just mean ‘for now’ I mean like forever. That’s the real meaning behind the ring, I love you and I want to be with you for the rest of our lives.”

You couldn’t help the happy tears beginning to sting your eyes as you looked up at him; “Forever?”

“Forever.”

* end of flashback *

You were shaken back to cruel reality by the sound of John’s voice beside you; “What’s taking them so long? We’ve gotta get back on the fuckin’ road.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you scoffed and looked at him. “Dean might be in serious trouble, and you’re thinking about the next hunt!?”

“Dean’s gonna be fine.” He rolled his eyes.

“We don’t know that,” you replied. You again started fiddling with the ring Dean had given to you.

“You know that ring doesn’t make you two husband and wife,” John commented. 

You stood up abruptly, not wanting to say what was running through your head; Yeah, and Dean being so fucking perfect doesn’t make you a good father.

“Dean Smith’s next of kin?” the doctor asked. 

“I’m his wife, this is his dad,” you said. “H-How is he?”

“He’ll be fine,” she replied. “He has a very minor concussion from when his head hit the floor, but he just needs some rest.”

“What happened?” John asked. 

“He fainted from over-exhaustion, he’s gonna be okay.”

“Over-exhaustion?” You furrowed your brows, placing a hand over your chest. “B-But he’s been eating fine? A-And sleeping as much as me, I think?”

“Actually,” John interrupted, “he’s been helping me with research at night, he doesn’t sleep as much as you.” 

Never in your life had you wanted to knee John Winchester in the balls as badly as you wanted to at that moment.

“How many hours a night are you sleeping, hun?” the doctor asked you.

“Like three to five… every other night,” you admitted. “And that’s always been enough! If it wasn’t, Dean could’ve just taken a nap he didn’t have to—fuck.”

“Can we see him?” John asked.

“He’s still asleep but yes, you can go and see him,” she replied.

On the way to Dean’s room, you kept wondering how this all happened—how did Dean get so fucking tied he collapsed!? If he was staying up at night, why didn’t he just sleep in the car? You would’ve happily driven Baby, and it’s not like you hadn’t done that before—Dean’s love language was sharing that fucking car.

“This hasn’t ever happened before, right?” you asked John. 

“Never,” he replied. “Guess Dean’s just not as strong as he used to be.”

“Excuse me?” you seethed and stopped in your tracks, pulling John to a halt as well. “Dean is a fucking hero but he is not a machine, he’s a fucking human being who’s been treated like a soldier since he was six-fucking-years-old!”

“If you wanna say something, fucking say it!” John exclaimed. 

“Oh, I am saying it! How fucking dare you work him so hard that he lands in the fucking emergency room!”

“We all know in this line of work, we have to do what we have to do!”

You slapped him hard across the face and your eyes widened when you realized what you did. 

“Dean is your son,” you said, quickly changing your facial expression back into one of pure rage. “He is your fucking child and you’ve been treating him like shit for far too long. He deserves better, he doesn’t deserve to be so fucking exhausted that he collapses.”

You walked away and into Dean’s room. Seeing him lying in the hospital bed made your heart break as tears welled in your eyes. 

“Oh god,” you mumbled. “Dean.” You quickly pulled up a chair so you could sit next to his bed and patiently wait for him to wake up. John did the same, though he seemed annoyed by the fact Dean was still asleep. 

You weren’t sure how long had passed before John got fed up; “Can you press the button for the nurse so we can ask when he’s supposed to wake up?”

“I think we should just let him sleep, don’t you?” you whispered, not knowing if Dean had been sedated or if he was just resting like normal.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, I told you to call the damn nurse,” he said, raising his voice which caused Dean to stir awake.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean said groggily, his eyes half-hooded as he brought your hand to his lips and placed a kiss on your knuckles. He then dropped your hand and rubbed his eyes to wake himself up. “This isn’t the motel,” he realized. He noticed John sitting at the other side of the bed and he sat up a little, trying to somewhat compose himself. “Wh-What happened?”

“I’ll fill you in,” John said. “Y/n, why don’t you go grab us some coffee so I can talk with my son?”

All your instincts told you not to leave the two Winchesters alone but what choice did you have? You didn’t want to start another fight with John, you were tired too, and you didn’t want Dean worrying.

“Yeah, sure,” you said. You took the time to bend down and place a loving kiss on Dean’s forehead, causing him to smile. “No coffee for you though, you need more sleep,” you told him before you left the room. 

About ten minutes later you walked back in and the sight practically made your eyes bulge out of your skull as your jaw flew open. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you asked and placed the two cups to the side. 

“Dad said there’s a hunt,” Dean said matter-of-factly. “I can sleep in the car or something, let’s go.” He started to stand up so you pushed him back down. 

“How fucking dare you!” you exclaimed at John, who stood on the other side of the bed. “How dare you tell him to suit up right now! He is staying here in this hospital, and he is getting some goddamn sleep!”

“That is not your decision,” John replied. “If Dean says he’s fine, then he’s fine.”

“You realize those are the exact words you said to me before your son collapsed, right?” you scoffed. “Dean lay back down now,” you told him as you began taking his boots off. “You are staying here for the night, you understand me?”

“Don’t you boss him around!” John exclaimed. “Dean and I are leaving here now.”

“You can leave if you want to, but Dean is staying put!” you replied, matching his tone. 

“No, he is not!” John yelled. 

You’d never fought with John like this, usually yelling and getting yelled at made your eyes tear up in the most inconvenient way. But this? Dean’s health? You were not about to back down. Not one single tear dared to appear in your eyes as you looked at John with such anger you wanted to slap him across the face… again.

“Why don’t we get a third opinion?” you suggested.

“Yeah, Dean, do you wanna sit here like a pussy or do you wanna go save some fucking lives?” John turned to look at him.

“Don’t answer that,” you said quickly. “I meant, let’s call the nurse and see what they have to say about it.”

Before John could protest, you walked over and pressed the button. It took half a minute—during which you and John stared daggers at each other—but soon the nurse walked in.

“How is everyone?” she asked, noticing the tension in the room.

“Do you think this young man here can leave yet? He’s doing fine and wants to go home,” John said. 

“Let me check his chart,” she replied before doing so. “I would have to no, he should definitely stay here and get some much-needed rest.”

“Is there a doctor—” John started but you stopped him.

“Goddamn it John!” you scoffed. “He is not leaving!” 

“You are not his fucking family!” John shouted, much louder than before. “I am! You aren’t his wife, you aren’t his sister, you aren’t his fucking mother—you are just his current girlfriend, and believe me that’ll fucking change in a heartbeat. You are not in charge of what Dean does, you are not family.” There was a short pause as your eyes brimmed with tears yet you refused to let them fall. John sighed and continued; “I am Dean’s father, I know what’s best for him, and I say he’s packing his things and getting the hell outta here.”

The nurse looked absolutely shocked, her jaw hanging open. The look John gave her made her hurry out of the room.

“Dad,” Dean said, seeing the tears in your eyes. “Dad, you can yell at me all you want, I’m your kid but…” He exhaled shakily as John turned to look at him with a frustrated look. “But you can’t talk to her like that, you just can’t. You might not think of her as family but that’s on you, she is a part of my family, Dad. And yeah, we might not be legally married or whatever but she’s not just my current girlfriend? She basically is my wife, we’re not just… dating?” Dean looked at his father with a sense of desperation, John just had to apologize and you could all drop it. Of course, John, being a stubborn bastard, held his ground and crossed his arms authoritatively. “I-If you aren’t gonna take back what you just said to her y-you can go on this next hunt alone.”

“Excuse me?” John scoffed. 

“You heard me,” Dean replied. “She’s everything to me and I can’t sit idly by while you talk to her like that.”

“So you’re talkin’ back to me now? Like Sammy?” John asked. “Refusing to take orders?”

“This isn’t about me, Dad!” Dean said, his face twisted with guilt. “You know I follow any orders you give, that I’m quick to obey. But you saying Y/n isn’t family? I-I’m sorry but I can’t let that slide, Dad.”

John huffed and abruptly left the room.

“I’m sorry,” you said to Dean the moment John was out of earshot.

“Me too.” Dean smiled sadly as you both wiped your eyes quickly.

“Why don’t we get these jeans off of you so you can be more comfortable?” you suggested patting his shin.

His brows shot up; “Really? Here? Now?”

“Dean, no!” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I meant comfortable so you can go to sleep!”

“Oh…yeah, that makes more sense.” His trademark cocky smile was back and that made your own smile return to your now tear-stained face.

“I’m serious about you staying put, you know.” You nodded toward his pants and he got the message. 

“You can be real stubborn, you know that?” he laughed as he hurried and slipped his pants off. You folded them up and put them on the chair along with his belt. He shrugged off his jacket and you tossed it on top of where the pants sat. 

“Get under the covers,” you said. He rolled his eyes playfully but he obliged nonetheless. 

“Happy?” He smiled when he was comfortable in the bed. 

You nodded; “I love you, Dean.” You leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips, causing his smile to turn more genuine. 

“Hey,” the doctor interrupted as she walked into the room, “Nurse Roberts just told me about the little outburst… everything okay in here?”

“Yeah, just a little misunderstanding is all,” you replied. “But it’s all settled—Dean’s staying the night.”

“That’s good to hear,” she said with a smile. “I’ve gotta be honest I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, clearly anxious about her statement.

“I just meant that your husband is very healthy,” she assured you; “I’ve never seen a young, healthy man like him just collapse from over-exhaustion.”

“First time for everything I guess,” Dean laughed nervously.

You glared at him; “Not funny, babe.”

“She’s right,” the doctor backed you up. “Now, whatever you’ve been doing recently that caused you to lose this much sleep, get this stressed you need to quit it right here, right now.”

“It’s our job, we can’t just… quit,” you said. “But I will definitely keep a closer eye on him from now on, make sure he’s getting enough sleep.”

“You can’t put this all on her, you understand me, Mr. Smith?” She looked at Dean before he nodded shyly. “Mrs. Smith you need to fix your own sleeping habits as well — if you both don’t smarten up and take better care of yourselves, you will definitely be right back here before the end of the year. You got that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said. 

“Good.” She nodded. “Now, I’m gonna give you a small dose of a mild sedative to help you fall asleep, alright?” She said as she made her way over to Dean’s IV bag to give him the sedative. “You ripped this out the second you woke up, didn’t you?” She asked him when she realized the needle was no longer in his arm. “You two, I swear!” She started preparing to simply inject Dean with the sedative but you stopped her.

“Is there maybe like a pill equivalent to what you’re giving him? He doesn’t really like needles,” you said. 

“There is, would you prefer that?” she asked Dean, and he nodded vigorously. “Alright, I’ll go and grab that for you then. Mrs. Smith the chair in the corner folds out into a small bed if you two don’t want to share one.”

“Oh, that’s alright, I’m not tired,” you said. 

She gave you a look; “Seriously? Hun, what did we just talk about?”

“I get that, but I know Dean’s not gonna sleep properly if he doesn’t feel safe.”

“This is a hospital, it’s safe,” she said. 

“Sorry,” you said with a small shrug, and again she sighed.

At that moment, John decided to walk back into the room, making your breath hitch a little before the doctor left to get the meds for Dean. 

“It’s alright, you two get some sleep; I’ll keep watch,” he said as he made his way over to the chair and sat down. 

“You sure, dad? I thought you said there was a job nearby?” Dean asked. 

John looked at you and smiled ever-so-slightly. Maybe it was something you had said to him, maybe John didn’t want you being alone with Dean while he was so weak, or maybe there never was a job and he didn’t have anything better to do than stay with his son. 

For whatever reason, John Winchester sighed and answered; “You’re more important, Dean. Your safety is more important. Now quit whining and get some sleep.”

Dean pulled the covers back, silently asking you to join him in the bed and, of course, you obliged. You gave him a quick kiss on the lips before getting comfortable in his arms.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he said, kissing your temple. 

“I love you more,” you replied, making him let out a soft laugh. 

“You always gotta one-up me, huh?” he chuckled. 

“Uh-huh,” you giggled. His arms tightened around your frame as he tucked your head under his chin. John couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for treating not only you but his own son so poorly. Every time John saw Dean be this relaxed and happy, you were always the cause. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

By the time the doctor got back about seven minutes later, you and Dean were both fast asleep; the latter letting out snores that gently moved your hair with each breath. She smiled a little at the sight and decided to duck back out of the room so as not to wake you two.

[alexsoenomel]

POV: Texts from Dean

[supernaturallyafreak]

I finished Supernatural but it's been such a big integral part of my... entire childhood... and my life- uh, it doesn't even feel like I finished it or it's over? Not sure what this feeling is.

[katastrophicmind]

Pillow Talkin'

summary: you and Dean talk about the future, in bed, pure fluff

pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

wc: 381

+:★:+*━━*+:★:+*━━*+:★:+*━━*+:★:+

Dean rolls away from you, back onto the thin motel mattress, supporting himself by leaning up on his elbow, staring down at you with that cocky grin you know all too well.

“Must you cheapen the moment, Dean?”

“...Sorry sweetheart” he drawls lazily, eyes half-lidded in a post-coital haze.

“Why’re ya staring?”

Dean sighs, “just thinking”, reaching down to gently curl his fingers around your wrist, pulling it up to press a soft kiss on your palm before intertwining his fingers with yours, giving a soft, loving squeeze.

“Alright,” you say, entertaining your boyfriend’s game, “what’re you thinking about?”

“You, us, our future. Wondering if maybe we’ll settle down and get married — end up makin' you Mrs. Dean Winchester — buy a house, have ourselves some rugrats runnin’ around one day. Wonderin’ if Sammy will give our brats some cousins.” Dean rolls his eyes at that, of course, his brother will settle down and have a few kids, that’s practically his life’s ambition. “I’ve been thinking…I could try out being a firefighter, y’know? Still savin’ people, riskin’ my life, but not as much as I do now. And I'd get to come home to my pretty little housewife.” He finishes with a wink.

“Really, Dean?” you say, quirking a brow. “You’d settle down, give up hunting and live a normal, apple pie life? I find that hard to believe. And," you add as an unamused afterthought, "who says I’d just be your housewife.”

Dean brings your hand back up to his lips, closing his eyes and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Long as you’re there with me sweetheart, I’d give it all up in a heartbeat. All you gotta do is say the word.”

You wait a beat before speaking with mock disgust, “And the housewife part?”

Dean chuckles, “Just like the thought of takin’ care of you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and giggle, images of blond-haired, freckled children running around, flashing through your mind. Dean coming home from a long day of work to spoil you and the children. “I’ve known you for three years already Dean Winchester, yet you still always manage to surprise me.”

“We got plenty of years of surprises left, sweetheart,” Dean says with a sly wink, wrapping you up in his arms.

+:★:+*━━*+:★:+*━━*+:★:+*━━*+:★:+

a/n: heyy so sorry if this is crappy i haven't written in quite a while and decided to restart with a new blog. Dean might be kinda ooc but I'm soft for soft Dean so lmk what u think, tysm :P

[zepskies]

Wake Up Call

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Sam often gets up before you in the morning. He enjoys luring you into the waking world. 

AN: Surprise! After writing Rest for Dean, equal parts hurt/comfort and fluff, I’ve been itching to do some “early morning” fluff for Sam…

Word Count: 700

Warnings: 18+ only for smuttishness. Fluff and feels.

Unlike Dean, Sam isn’t one to be sentimental.

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. On the contrary, he hordes and treasures memories in his mind, rather than on his shelves.

It also means he’s not one to collect things just to have them. There has to be a practical use, like the way good books can be read again. Even his dad’s journal is a useful resource, not just a record of the man’s most significant words, and in some ways, his legacy.

Sam’s room is function, not fluff.

That is, until you invaded.

Well, less invaded, and more invited, but still. He sees traces of you everywhere, in the half-drunken mugs of coffee and tea piling up across his nightstand; in the shelves you’ve put up to showcase his books, alongside yours (complete with “cute” little bookends you found at a flea market in town); and in the extra fuzzy blankets and smaller pillows you’ve bought, not only because they’re comfortable, but because they help “pull the room together,” in your words.

Sam had to snort at that one. Somehow, he doesn’t think a few decorative pillows and a lamp from Goodwill are going to make a windowless bedroom in a bunker look like a page out of a Pottery Barn catalog.

But he humored you then, with the same smile he looks down on you with now. It's early in the morning as he sits up beside you in bed with his coffee. He has a fresh mug ready for you on the nightstand. (He's also brought the army of old ones back to the kitchen sink.)

He spares a moment from his laptop to brush your hair away from your cheek as you sleep. His hand drifts down your bare shoulder, as far as he can reach down your arm. Finally, his touch stirs you. Your breathing shifts with a little hum as you creep closer to wakefulness.  

“Awake already?” you grumble at him.

“Yeah. Waiting for you.”

“Hnnmmmmm.”

Sam smiles. You can be so grumpy in the morning.

He takes another sip of his coffee and sets aside his mug and his laptop. He gets up just to raise his side of the blankets, sliding back in and slotting himself behind you. You sigh after his arm has slipped beneath your head, and the other around your waist, pulling you comfortably warm against his chest.

He issues his first plan of attack, laying soft kisses behind your ear, along your jaw. Even with your eyes closed, you smile as his long hair tickles your cheek. He pays special attention to your pulse point, nipping and sucking gently. A shiver tingles down your spine.

“No fair,” you breathe out, reaching back a hand to card through his hair. Your fingers tangle in the dark strands as he smiles against your skin.

He continues his tantalizing path down your neck. His hand moves under the sheets, under your borrowed sleep shirt. His thumb brushes the underside of your breast, earning a pleased hum from you. It encourages him to palm the round softness with his big hand, pebbling the nipple under his nimble, rolling fingers.

Uttering a soft whine, you begin to subtly writhe against him. Your ass presses back into him, accidentally-on-purpose. His arousal rises to meet you, a low-burning fire crackling to life.

Sam’s kisses become more insistent with the brush of his tongue against your skin. His hand moves from playing with your breast, down the soft length of your body. Every move is a form of delicious persuasion, especially when his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties.   

“You awake yet?” Sam teases, his lips moving against your cheek.

Your smile grows. You finally open your eyes and tangle your leg with his under the covers.

“If I’m not, this is one hell of a dream,” comes your cheeky reply.

Sam chuckles. His fingers dip between your legs, into your wet heat. You suck in a breath.

His voice in your ear is enough to raise the hair on your arms.

“Baby, we haven’t even started yet.”

AN: 😘 Hope you enjoy! I haven't written Sam in a while, but I do love him too. 💜

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[nochedie]

sleepless | dean winchester 🌙

pairing: dean winchester x reader

genre: fluff

wordcount: 689

summary: after a night of staring at the ceiling, drowning in your own thoughts, dean helps you fall asleep

a/n: actually wrote this at 3am last night because i couldn’t sleep! i haven’t written for dean yet and i really wanted to show him love so here’s a short little drabble! listened to simulation swarm by big thief while writing 🫶🏼

2am.

your bare feet lightly padded across the laminate of the motel room floor, and you felt around to help you navigate the poorly lit room.

you flinched as your hip bumped into the table, making a bit of noise. you turned to look in the direction of the bed you got out of to grab a drink of water, and through the slight illumination from the moon through the sheer curtain, you could see dean stirring slightly and you hoped you hadn’t woken him.

the motel you were staying in had a small kitchenette with a refrigerator, and you had put a water bottle in there earlier in the day to cool. you grabbed the water bottle and savoured the feeling of the liquid on your dry throat, instantly refreshing. you took the bottle back over to the bed and placed it on the bedside table before trying your best to get back into bed without making any noise.

“you okay, baby?” dean spoke, voice even deeper than usual with sleep.

“yeah, i just needed a drink. go back to sleep, love.” you placed a hand on his hair, brushing your fingers through until you heard his breathing deepen as he fell back into a peaceful slumber.

you stared up at the ceiling, willing your eyes to shut.

3am.

you were still wide awake, having not slept a wink. you turned to dean, still fast asleep. you could just about see his silhouette in the darkness, and you leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

3:30am.

dean began to stir beside you when you moved to grab the water bottle from the bedside table.

almost instinctively, and still half asleep, he reached out an arm to drape across your waist.

you paused your movements, frustrated with yourself for making too much noise and disturbing him.

“c’mere.” dean tugs your form slightly, prompting you to put down the water bottle and slip back down beside him.

“can’t sleep?” he tries to suppress a yawn.

“not really.” not at all, in fact. you hadn’t slept a wink all night and you didn’t even feel close to falling asleep.

one of dean’s hands found yours, and he placed a gentle kiss to your neck. “anything i can do?”

“no.. it’s alright.” you turned your body to face him, shuffling as close as you could as dean wraps you up in his arms.

“have you slept at all tonight?” he questioned.

“no…”

“baby…” dean brushes a few strands of hair away from your face. “is there something wrong?”

“there’s nothing wrong, really. it’s just… i don’t know, i guess i’ve been a bit more stressed than usual lately.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” his tone was soft and concerned. he wasn’t berating you, but rather worried that he had done something wrong or that you didn’t trust to tell him about any of your worries, big or small.

“i didn’t want to bother you with it…”

“you couldn’t bother me if you tried, sweetheart.”

“i worry about you. i worry about sam and cas. i worry about everybody we’ve ever known. i don’t think i could cope with losing anybody else…” your brain was full and it wouldn’t turn off. countless scenarios playing in your head on a constant loop.

“i worry about that too, baby… but you need your sleep. you must be tired.” truthfully, you were exhausted. but everything was just so loud.. it wouldn’t grant you peace.

dean knew you loved to hear him sing, even though he would only do it once in a blue moon and never in front of anybody but you. feelings of content smothered you as soon as the first note left his lips.

“i close my eyes… only for a moment, and the moments gone…”

after a few moments, the sound of his voice, his touch, his scent, him, muted the sound of your crushing thoughts.

it didn’t take you long after that to finally allow sleep to engulf you. by the end of the song you were fast asleep, your breathing deepening with each passing moment.

“sweet dreams, baby.”

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