#Sam Fanfic

[lostalioth]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭

→ premise: you in those damn jeans, those stupid jeans that fit you just right. your hips, your waist, your thighs. and god your ass in those jeans nearly had sam drooling. it was shameful he knew it but he couldn’t help it, not when your ass looked so prefect.

→ pairing: sam winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, anal, caught masturbating, switch!sam? [he’s dominating but also jsut whiny and desperate?], nicknames [angel, baby], no lube or prep really for the anal part [i lowkey didn’t wanna write it lmao], not proofread

→ a/n: kinktober 17

It was pathetic, he was pathetic he knew that and yet he just couldn't care at the moment nor help himself. You looked so good he swore it was driving him clinically insane. So good that it was making his genius brain malfunction, and his downstairs ‘brain’ run on overdrive. 

He couldn't focus, could barely understand a word the witnesses were saying, it was all going in one ear and out the other. His eyes were just glued on you, on your body, on those stupid perfectly fitting jeans you wore. He felt like a hormonal teenager again, getting all worked up over a dumb pair of tight jeans on a woman. It didn't help that Sam has already been nursing a small crush on you that he’s had sense him and his brother met you. 

He had to bail on you and dean in the middle of the interviews, giving the both of you some excuse about not feeling the best and that maybe he needed some extra rest. Though in truth his pants were just getting tighter by the minute and his head getting foggier. He somehow managed to walk himself back to the motel, the short walk doing not a damn thing to clear his head. You in those fucking jeans, those jeans that hug your thighs and your wasit just right, those stupidly tight jeans that made your ass look so fucking bitable it was making him lose his mind. 

Even though muffled by his t-shirt pulled up and tucked between his teeth all that filled the quiet dingy motel room were Sams whines they were so loud. He was a mess the second he unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants and boxers down his thighs. His large hand furiously stroking up and down his aching cock, pulling strangled whimpers and cries from his lips. His precum leaking out from his tip acting as lube for his hand to glide along his shaft faster, squeezing it hard as he goes. 

He was already so close, it only added to his feeling of being pathetic, he really was a horny teenager now, he couldn't even last that long with his fist around his cock and his head filled with thoughts of you. You on top of him riding him as he whines, you under him your limbs an entangled mess as you pant and moan into his mouth. Him with his head buried between your thighs, you on your knees for him with your mouth stuffed full of his cock, any and all different kinds of images of you all over him. “Need you s’bad, s‘fuckin’ bad holy shit….” He hissed through his teeth in a hushed tone as his head fell back in pleasure, cries of your name and whines about how good you looked fall from his mouth like a waterfall the closer he gets to the edge.

“Hey Sam? Honey? you doing okay?” Your voice shattered the daydream going on in his head that was just about to make him cum. In shock and embarrassment his hand stills, inadvertently edging himself. The nickname only makes his cock twitch more as a short whine comes out of his mouth in response. He was caught and it should be embarrassing, humiliating even, you caught him jerking off in the middle of the day. He should be feeling anything else but what he was right now, It shouldn’t excite him that you caught him. But he was too far gone into a desperate type of head space to care at the moment. 

“Oh shit!, i'm sorry i didn't mean to barge in i thought you’d be napping” you babble out, covering your face as heat spreads through your body as you turn around and move like you're about to leave. As you turn sam gets an even better almost 360º view of your body, how the jeans cling to your thighs, the waistband snug around your waist, the denim looks practically painted on your ass, they were so tight.

“Need it s’bad, please i need you s’bad yoou dont have to leave” he whines out, you had already caught him so any composure or decorum he had has been thrown out the window alongside reason. He could be completely ruining your friendship at this moment, you could be disgusted with him and reject him but he was taking that risk cause he was desperate. 

Your body as if moving on its own accord, revealing your own hidden desires turns back around to face Sam, slowly taking your hands away from your face. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes scan over his body, his shirt tugged up and stuffed in his mouth exposing his chest, a small trail of hair leading down to where his hand is still wrapped tightly around his cock, a pleading look in his glazed over eyes. Slowly you make your way over to him spread out on the bed, your steps careful as if you were gonna spook him by moving too fast. “What- Uh- what do you need honey?” You question, still a bit confused and extremely nervous. You’d do anything to help Sam, and getting to see him like this all pathetic and desperate was a bonus that was making slick settle in your core and your thighs clench together. 

“I need you, want you s’bad” he whines out dropping his shirt from his mouth as he grabs ahold of your hand when you get close enough. Placing your hand on his stiff throbbing cock with his own, you let out a small gasp at the feeling of his warm cock under your touch. “This is what you do to me, you and ya’ fucking stupid tight jeans” he hissed out, letting go of your hand and taking note of the fact you dont move it off his cock he slaps your ass hard with his big hand resting and gropping at it after it comes down. 

“These damn jeans that make your ass look so good angel, so good that I couldn't focus, baby. Wanna fuck you s’bad, wanna fuck this ass” he was rambling now looking up at you with his signature puppy eyed look that made you melt. He was so hard it was getting painful, especially since he stopped himself right when he was gonna cum.

He's already thrown caution to the wind by this point, there was no going back.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You gave in. 

Willing to do whatever it took to make Sam feel better as well as the fact that all his begging had made you about just as desperate for him. He had you on his lap now, your back pressed against his bare chest. He was quick to strip you of all your clothes, eyes glued to the way he had to practically peel your jeans off your body. Your thighs were spread and laid over his legs that he had bent up, his feet planted flat on the bed. 

Your head was spinning from the feeling of his rough hands exploring every inch of your body. Palming at your tits and his thumb flicking your nipples, squeezing your waist when you squirm in his grasp and grind your ass against him. His lips were mouthing and kissing along your neck, tongue poking out to lick up the side and even behind your ear, sucking patches of small hickies onto the unmarked skin. Your body relaxed more and more in his arms as Sam said; “Need you real relaxed for this angel okay? As bad as i want this i don't wanna hurt ya’” you were certainly relaxed once his thumb started rubbing circles over your bundle of nerves, sighing in a mixture of pleasure and relief. You whine softly as your pussy aches, begging for release already as your folds are dripping in slick, a trail of it sliding down your cunt to your ass even. 

Lifting his hips his tip nudges at the tight ring of muscle of your ass, his precum that hasn't stopped leaking as well as his spit that coated his cock acted as your only form of lube as he bullies his thick cock inside. With a broken gasp in both pain and pleasure at the new sensation you dig your nails into the flesh of his forearm that was wrapped around your stomach holding you against him. “Sam~ Honey- Fuck!” You blabber out in a string of jumbled together moans, losing track of where you were gonna go with your sentence once his cock pushes all the way inside, your hole sucking his cock inside. 

“Atta’ girl, s’good f’me angel. God your ass is so fuckin’ tight” he cries out, he was already still on edge from just his fist but this feeling was gonna send him flying over it faster than he wanted. The pleasure of his cock filing your ass as well as his thumb which hasn't stopped playing with your clit has your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“Baby, m’not gonna last long, it's too much” you moan out as his hips buck up and thrust into you, settling at a fast and relentless pace not giving you any more time to get adjusted. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay, j’ cum, just cum for me angel” he nods his head frantically, moans and desperate cries fill the room and you don't know what sounds are coming from who as you clench down on him. 

Your body tensing up and your eyes screwing shut as your climax washes over you, a loud wanton moan falling out of your mouth. Worry about the other residents hearing anything long since past, Sam even felt a small ego boost knowing they were hearing you scream out his name. His hips not stopping their hard thrusting, Sam too lost in pleasure with his head buried in your neck as his cock pounds your ass making you see stars as you cum. 

“Feel so good angel, holy shit squeezin’ me even tighter as you cum shit~” he groans out, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine as his breath fans across your ear. Your cum leaks out of your pussy, sliding down to Sams cock giving it even more slick for him to fuck up into you harder and faster, chasing his own orgasm. 

“Gonna cum angel, but dont think im done with ya’ when i do, need to fuck that pretty pussy too. Been dreamin’ about that sense we met, need to make you all mine” he cries out as he turns your face towards his and crashes his lips against yours, kissing you like a man starved. His moans are muffled into the kiss as well as more whines of your name as he cums hard.

→ a/n: AHHHH last day of kinktober is tomorrow!! Im hoping i get to post the last day on halloween but i might not so if i dont expect it nov

[redbird-tf]

Wild dog

dean x little sister

synopsis; A vampire hunt goes horribly wrong, leaving you injured in more ways the one, by the person you'd least expect.

inspired by

Word count; 2.6k (officially my longest story, please dont let it flop)

Warning: hurt/comfort, injury, john, violence, language

No no no, this couldnt be happening. You all knew taking on a vampire nest was a dangerous mission, but this mistake should have never happened. Now, here you lay on the cold, hay-covered floor of an old barn. Pain pulses through your body, your mind teetering on the edge of consciousness, and Dean looming over you.

The barn was crawling with those nasty blood-sucking monsters—20, maybe more. You three had been tracking them for weeks and prepared well. Hiding in the bushes, you waited until the nest was deep in slumber before making your move. You had to move quietly. Killing as many in their sleep as possible until one awoke. Its shrill scream shattered the silence, jolting the rest of the nest awake. "Split!" Dean's voice rang out, and in an instant, you all scattered.

Dean skidded to a stop as he faced a dead end. His grip tightened around the machete, turning to face the vamps closing in. “come get it you sick son of a bitch” he growled. He swung in every direction, blood soaking his clothes. When Dean got like this he turned into a killing machine. No thoughts just, swing-hit-kill, swing-hit-kill. A vamp hurled down at him from the ceiling, yet without flinching Dean grabbed it by the throat slamming it against the wall behind him and slicing its head clean off. Only when the head rolled past his feet did he take a breath and allow his shoulder to slump.

The sound of fast footsteps made him whirl around, swinging his machete wildly, his fist connecting with the creature's face, sending it crashing to the ground. “Dean stop!” Sams horrified voice rang pulling Dean from his soilder like state. Deans eyes widened in shock and the machete slipped from his hand. “Oh my god” his voice broke. It was you. You who was running up on him. You who’s side he sliced into. It was you who lay in front of him now.

Dean collapsed to his knees, and his hands came up to cradle your face “Sweetheart, sweetheart can you hear me” he begged with desperation. You let out a painful groan, and Dean let out a heavy sigh of relief. Sam lifted your shirt, inspecting the cut that was pouring blood. His concerned gaze met Dean, “What?” Dean demanded, panic rising in his chest. “We can’t stitch this dean, we need to take her to the hospital now” Sam replied with quick urgency. He pushed Dean aside, scooping you into his arms. You let out another agonizing moan. “Sorry bug” Sam whispered. “And say what?” Dean frantically snapped while darting toward the car. “I don't know Dean, let's worry about that when our sisters insides aren’t visible!” Sam shouted in frustration.

————-

When they reached the hospital, Dean shouted for help, and within seconds doctors surrounded them, lifting your limp body from Sam's arms and onto a bed. Deans eyes never left you as you were wheeled away, only breaking when pushed past white doors. It was then the adrenaline wore off and guilt flooded his body. He stood frozen, Sam’s voice was mumbled trying to convince the nurse it had been a bear or something.

“Sir, sir, SIR” Dean's trance was broken by the nurse's voice. “Does your hand feel alright?” She asked kindly. Dean furrowed his brows in confusion, then looked down at his fist. His knuckles were bruised and the image of his fist connecting with your face made his lip quiver.

Dean and Sam sat in the silence of the waiting room. Dean's head hung low, his thumb rubbing over his bandaged hand. Sams head jerked up at the sound of heavy footsteps, “what the hell” he muttered. Deans eyes widened at the sight of John. They both quickly stood from their seat “Dad what are you-“Sam was cut off. “What the hell happened?” John asked sternly, gazing between the brothers. There was a tense pause before Dean spoke up “It was me… she ran up from behind me. i should have been more careful…” Dean spoke quietly, half to keep the nurses from hearing and half because he couldn’t raise his voice without the risk of breaking down. John sighed heavily “How many goddamn times have i told her not to do that-“John started “It's not her fault” Dean quickly rebutted. John opened his mouth but fell silent at the sight of a nurse approaching. “How is she?” John asked, his body tensed, bracing for the worst. “Shell be alright” the boys shoulders dropped. “Shell have to take it easy for a few months to prevent tearing stitches….” The nurse paused, hesitating to continue “Her injury was very severe, it's a miracle she's still alive” The room fell silent again. “Can we see her?” Sam asked in an urgent tone.

The three of them hurried to your room. Sam and John rushed to your bedside, except for Dean who stood frozen in the doorway, watching you slowly gain consciousness.” what happened?” You asked groggily. Sam spoke softly to you but the Anastasia still weighed heavy, making it hard to understand his words. A shiver ran through your body and your head cocked to the side catching a glimpse of Dean. Dean jumped out of sight, pressing his back against the wall. He swallowed sharply, his heart hammering in his chest. “De…” he heard you call. “Dean” again, and again. A moment later John stepped out, “she's cold. She wants a jacket” he stated firmly. Without a word, Dean shrugged off his jacket and pushed it into John's hand. “Go home. We’ll talk later” he ordered. “Yes sir,” Dean said lowly, his hand dragged down his face, then he turned his heel.

—————-

“What do you remember?” Sam asked, sitting at the edge of your bed. You thought for a moment, your mind capturing bits and pieces. A look of shock came over your face. “I was running to Dean and then…” Your breath hitched and your hand clutched your side “he didn't mean to” you whispered with turned-up brows. Sams brows furrowed in contrast “Of course he didn’t” he reassured you, placing his hand over yours. “Here you go kid” John stepped forward, passing Dean's jacket to you. “Where's Dean?” You asked. “Let's get going before the cops get here” John continued ignoring your question. “He didn't mean to Dad! It's my fault” you blurted out. Johns's gaze sharpened “you were reckless. and he acted like a goddamn wild dog. This is on both of you, i hope you've learned something. Now come on” he snapped coldly, turning his back.

——

The drive back to the motel in John's truck was silent with unbearable tension. When John pulled into the lot you noticed Dean's impala was nowhere in sight. “I'll check into another room. You two go to bed,” John said gruffly, pointing between you and Sam before walking off. Sam carried the bags into the room as you limped in behind him. “Where Dean?” You asked, turning to Sam with a confused look. “He’s probably just grabbing a drink” he explained, while unpacking his bag. “Can we call him, just to make sure” you nervously fidgeted with your fingers, “let's just give him some space right now,” Sam spoke quietly, giving you sympathetic eyes.

You had been tossing and turning for hours. Unable to sleep thanks to the pain meds wearing off. You stared at the ceiling until the glow of headlights flickered into the room. You listened closely to the squeak of brakes, followed by the jingles of keys. You quickly closed your eyes pretending to sleep. Footsteps crept their way into the room, then faded back out. You peeked around the room, seeing nothing changed. Slowly you sat up, cradling your side as you pushed yourself from the bed. Grabbing Dean's jacket from the nightstand, you tiptoed to the door making sure not to wake Sammy while you slipped out.

The wind bit at your cheeks. You quickly draped the jacket over your shoulders, pulling it tight. The Impala was parked in front of you, but no still dean in sight. Your eyes scanned the lot. It wasn't until you squinted your eyes that you spotted a figure in the distance, sitting on a bench, beneath a large oak tree. After a few minutes of limping, and grunting, you finally reached the bench. Dean swung around at the sound. “I got your jacket…” you said awkwardly. “Keep it,” he muttered after giving you a once over and taking a sip of his drink. You slowly took a seat next to him. The rustle of the tree blowing in the wind surrounding you two. “I shouldn’t have run up on you-“ you tried to reason “It's not your fault” Dean cut you off, his voice firm, eyes locked on the ground. “You've told me over and over again not to “ “so i should have known. I shouldn’t have looked before…” his voice strained.

Another silence settled. “I don't blame you Dean” you stated softly. “Well, i do.” He replied sharply, taking another swing of his drink. You watched him for a moment before shifting closer, resting your head on his shoulder. You could feel him relax beneath your touch. “You know when we were younger, I'd come home from school and Dad would be gone, but you'd be there.” You kept your voice steady. “Then Sam left, and i was sure you would to…but you never did. You've always been there for me Dean” you spoke softly. You saw his grip tighten around the bottle. “You know what hurt most of all” your voice barely a whisper. “when i called for you from the bed…and you didn't come” Your voice wavered before you could stop it and you bit down on your lip. Deans body stiffened. For the first time that night, he looked you in the eyes. His green eyes were a storm of emotions. “I'm sorry, kid” his voice painfully sincere. He lifted his hand to cradle the side of your face, his thumb smoothing over the bruise beneath your eye. “Dean i know you won't forgive yourself, but can you make me a promise” Your voice shook terribly, trying to keep your tears at bay. Dean nodded immediately. “promise you'll always come when i call you” you pleaded. Dean's face cringed realizing the pain he caused you, some worse than the physical. “I promise, baby” His voice was firm, unwavering. A gust of wind cut through the air causing you both to shiver violently. “We should go in now” Dean suggested to which you quickly nodded, earning a soft chuckle from him.

As You both stood up, a sharp pain radiated down your side, stopping you in your tracks. Dean turned to you in an instant, hearing you wince. “what's wrong?” He asked concerned. “My side” you breathed out, clutching at your ribs while bent over. Dean crouched down in front of you “How about i give you a ride” Dean recommended. You couldn’t help but smile as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, allowing him to slowly lift you off the ground. His warmth engulfed you. Your eyes grew heavy, sleep pulling you in as you rested against him. until his voice pulled you back. “You know I'll always protect you too. Even if that means from me sometimes” he said quietly, but his voice laced with a sense of seriousness. You pressed your face into his shoulder, letting yourself relax again before softly murmuring.

“Dean Winchester, my own wild dog”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine...How Sam Comforts You On A Bad Day

Pairing: Sam x reader

_______

Sam noticed you were still on the same page of your book as when he’d left over half an hour ago for his run. You seemed to be staring off into the distance, even if your back was to him. He knew he smelled and needed a shower but he didn’t want to let you stew for another half hour either. He let himself go to you and take the book away, marking it for you and setting it on the table. You didn’t look up and he bent down instead, picking you up, letting you wrap your arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist. He hummed and carried you away to the bathroom, setting you down on the bench. He shut the door and tore off his clothes quickly, going to you and tugging down your pants. You looked up at him and he leaned down, kissing you, soft and slow. This wasn’t one of those kinds of showers.

You forced a half smile and finished undressing, Sam leaving your side for only a brief moment to turn on the water. He took your hand when your clothes were gone, pulling you over and under the water. He let himself get wet and adjusted the shower head so it sprayed wide, covering the two of you. He reached over to the shelf, picking up his body wash and squirting some in his hands. Sam didn’t wash himself off though. He put his soapy palms on Y/N’s shoulders, sliding them down her arms slowly, his large hands quickly moving and touching every square inch of skin. He turned her around and began to massage her back, rubbing her shoulders, working out a knot and hearing her moan softly at the tension releasing.

Sam watched her untense more and more, closing her eyes and letting him spin her around, covering her head to toe. While she rinsed off Sam used the opportunity to clean himself up, smiling when she stretched out and hugged herself. He got the soap off and picked up the shampoo bottle, humming as he poured it into the center of his hand. She turned without asking, Sam rubbing it into her scalp with a big smile.

When they were both finally clean, Sam wrapped Y/N up in a big bath sheet, using one for himself and carrying her down into their bedroom. She lay back in bed, all wrapped up when Sam tossed one of his shirts at her to wear for the rest of the day. She smiled at that but rested her head on her pillow and closed her eyes.

“Alright, baby. A quick nap never hurt either.”

_______

[supernaturallyedsheeran]

Coffee With Sam

You flirt with Sam and he squirms under the pressure (version with Dean also available)

cw : fem!reader, fluff, no use of y/n, summary : you flirt with Sam and he squirms under the pressure characters Sam Winchester, f!reader wc: 910 famdom: Supernatural

✧∘* ✧･ﾟ✨Masterlist ✨✧∘* ✧･ﾟ

You’ve been here long enough to notice the little things. The way Sam seems to linger a second too long whenever his eyes find yours. How his smile softens just a little, like he's savoring a moment that doesn't need to be rushed. The way he listens to you—really listens—like everything else fades into the background when you're speaking.

You never expected it, but somehow, in the depths of the bunker, you’ve found yourself caught in a strange orbit around him. Sam’s got this quiet intensity, an energy that pulls at you when he’s near. It's the way his shoulders move under the fabric of his shirt, like he’s a man who’s seen too much but still holds himself with a quiet grace. It’s how he looks at you—like you're the only thing in the room, like he can't quite pull his attention away.

Tonight, it’s different. You’re sitting across from him in the kitchen, a cup of coffee between your hands, and you feel the air between you freeze. He’s talking about the latest hunt, but his voice drifts in and out as your attention shifts to the way his eyes flicker toward you every few seconds. And when they meet yours, you feel a charge, an almost electric pull that sends a shiver up your spine.

You don’t know what comes over you, but you decide to test the waters. Why not? Why not flirt a little, just to see what happens?

You lean forward, your fingers curling around the edge of your mug as you let your lips curve into a playful smile. “So,” you say, your voice low, teasing, “do you always get this distracted during a hunt?”

Sam's brows furrow for a moment, a little confused, but then his gaze flickers to your lips, just for a second. It’s subtle, but you catch it—just the tiniest break in his armour, and you know he’s caught.

“Distracted?” he repeats, his voice rougher than usual, a little uncertain, like he’s trying to process your words, but maybe he’s also distracted by you.

You lean in just a little bit closer, letting your gaze slide over him, taking in the way his jaw tightens, how his broad shoulders tense under the faded flannel. "Mmhm," you hum, playing with your coffee cup, letting your fingers brush over the rim in a slow, deliberate motion. “You seem... focused. But not on the case.”

His gaze flickers again, and this time, it doesn’t waver. His lips part slightly, and you can see his mind working, trying to figure out if you're being playful or flirting. But you don’t give him time to fully process; instead, you bite your lip, and say “You know, Sam, for a guy who’s seen so much, you sure don’t seem very good at hiding it.”

His breath catches just slightly, and for a moment, everything between you falls into a quiet pause. You can hear the faint hum of the bunker. You watch his chest rise and fall, and you notice the way his throat muscles twitch as he swallows, his gaze locking on yours like he’s trying to keep up with the game you’re playing.

"I... uh," he stammers, his words coming out slower now, unsure if he’s supposed to be serious or if you’re throwing him off with the change in energy. “What exactly are you getting at?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, and the sound seems to shake him out of his haze. You take a sip of your coffee, your eyes never leaving his, and then put the mug down with a soft clink.

“I’m getting at,” you say, your voice dropping lower, “that you can’t seem to take your eyes off me. And I’m curious—what’s that about?”

Sam’s mouth opens and closes as though he’s trying to form a response, but the words won’t come. His cheeks blush ever so slightly, and you swear you can see a flicker of sheepishness. It’s a side of him that’s rare but you can see it now.

“I—” He clears his throat, and you feel the tension in his posture, the way his hand rests on the table, tense but not moving. “I don’t... I’m not—”

You cut him off, leaning just a little closer, your voice lowering to a whisper. “It’s okay, Sam. I don’t bite... unless you want me to.”

The words hang in the air, and this time, you see the cracks. His jaw tightens, his chest rises as if he’s holding his breath, trying to keep himself in check. But the flush creeping up his neck gives him away.

Sam swallows again, his eyes narrowing slightly, but this time, there's something new behind them—something dangerous and exciting. Something that tells you he's not playing the game anymore.

"You're... you're trouble," he mutters, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his lips, but it's almost like he can't quite decide whether to laugh or lean in and kiss you right here, right now.

You chuckle softly, leaning back in your chair, the air around you charged with anticipation. "Maybe. But trouble’s fun, don’t you think?"

For a split second, you see him hesitate, his gaze flicking down to your lips and back to your eyes. And for that brief moment, you wonder if he’s going to pull back—or if he’s finally going to give in.

Either way, you know one thing for sure: You’ve got his attention now.

[phanatomism]

lost. ep 1

sam winchester x reader

summary ; after getting in a fight with your father, you find two unlikely boys in an abandoned farm house.

warnings ; none

word count ; 1.2k

you shut the door, a loud slam erupting and reverberating across the street. it was empty here, nothing for miles around. the cattle mooed in the distance and grass blew with the wind, indicating an oncoming storm. you scream angrily at your father, who, in turn, drove off. the tires wailed hard against the pavement. the sound alone making your ears want to bleed.

the air around you made goosebumps form on your skin and you shivered. thoughts of a warm fire or coffee filled your mind. did your father really just leave you? deserted? the thought crossed your mind, but you shoved it back. wanting to hope he’d turn around, but he was already gone. the headlights vanished into the distance and you were alone. alone in the middle of nowhere, dark with no street lights to guide you.

you plopped down on the grass, next to the road. you listened expertly for sounds of cars in the distance but all you could hear was farm animals and— farm animals. there must be a farm somewhere nearby. you sat up quickly, rushing to your feet. they carried you to a small place in the distance. it seemed to be old, almost rundown. there was a nice car out front, an impala. it looked new, out of place for the area. you shrugged it off, wandering into the rustic farmhouse.

“hello?” you called out, striding into the house, the door shutting carefully behind you. it was quiet, too quiet. “hello?—“

all of a sudden, a gun— pointed straight at your nose. the smell of gunpowder automatically filled your nostrils.

“sam!” a voice called out, you were too focused on the gun being pointed at you that you didn’t even realize the man standing behind you.

“she’s just a girl,” the voice behind you let out, “not one of them. she doesn’t even fit the description, dean.”

heavy sounds of rain started to fall onto the old, abandoned house. it echoed throughout the walls.

dean hesitantly put the gun down, “what’re you even doin’ here, lady?”

you studied his face before answering. he was tall, strong looking. his jawline was sharp and he had intense eyes that pierced through your skull. “i.. got lost. my dad left me on the road.. i..” you were still shaken up from the events that just happened. a gun being pointed in your face wasn’t your fair share of fun.

“she’s scared, dean. you scared her. hey, i’m sam. this is dean. we can help you, we just need to get you out of here first.” sam came into frame, he was even taller than dean. he, too, had sharp features but his eyes were soft and sincere.

“she shouldn’t be here,” sam whispered to dean, harshly, grabbing him by the arm.

dean scoffed and shook his head, bringing a hand up to wipe his face.

“don’t you think i know that?” dean gritted his teeth, whispering back.

“is there something you’re not telling me?” you asked, curiously. the two men were acting odd, strange even. it worried you. why would they have guns and be in an abandoned farmhouse? were they murderers?

“look, we don’t have much time to explain.” sam expressed, “it’s just not safe for you to be here.”

“then where else am i supposed to go? it’s pouring rain outside.” you bit back, getting irritated with their lack of response.

sam sighed, he too brought his hand up to rub his temples. “maybe we should come back another time, dean. let’s get this girl to—“

“sam, we can’t just leave! we just got here! we haven’t even started—“ dean paused and glanced at you, angrily. he dug out his keys, throwing them to sam. “get her out of here.”

sam nodded and placed a respectful hand on your lower back to lead you out of the abandoned farmhouse.

“here, put this jacket over your head so you don’t get rained on.” sam stated, shrugging off his jacket, revealing his toned forearms.

you glanced away, nodding. a small thank you escaped your lips as you placed the carhart jacket over your hair. you and sam hustled outside, your shoes squishing in the now muddy dirt.

sam opened the door for you before quickly running over to the drivers side. you both sat in the impala, panting from running so fast.

“is he your brother?” you questioned, glancing to look at sam.

sam ran a hand through his wet hair and nodded, “yeah, he is.”

sam started the car, the engine letting out a rumble-like purr. heat started to fill the packed, almost claustrophobic car. you sighed, finally feeling warm for the first time in a hour.

after a few moments, you spoke up. “thanks.”

“oh, yeah.. of course.” sam replied, a soft smile appearing on his delicate features.

“what did you.. mean by… it not being safe for me to be in there?” you asked, tilting your head softly to the side.

sam looked at you with an expression that seemed unreadable, he let out another sigh, his head falling back against the headrest on the seat. “well… do you want the truth or the short answer?”

“the truth,” you didn’t like how these brothers kept beating around the bush.

“you’re not gonna believe me,” he chuckled, another smile on his face. “me and my brother we… hunt things. that thing in there, kills girls like you. innocent girls who wander in after being lost. there’s been cases over the last couple of years…”

you cut him off, “what do you mean thing?”

“i mean a spirit.” he answered and you kept yourself from almost bursting out laughing.

“a spirit?” you said, snickering. “what’re you really doing here?”

“i mean it,” his tone serious as he stared into your eyes with his hazel ones.

you paused, a sense of unease filling you. was he being genuine? “oh..”

you too, fell back against the slightly uncomfortable seat. “you.. hunt these things?”

“yeah,” sam responded, glancing outside the window. the trees swayed with the wind from the storm passing overhead. “my brother and i do.”

“that’s kind of cool,” you laughed, you were being sincere though. it was kind of cool. hunting the paranormal.

“is it?” he looked at you, a confused look plastered across his face.

“it is.” you answered, smiling at him. he was cute, sam had longer hair than dean, bangs that covered his forehead and a smile that’d make a girls knees weak. he looked to be in his early twenties. you glanced away, looking at the cows that sat down across the pasture.

“do you want us to get you a motel?” sam asked.

“can i join you?”

“can you what?”

you looked at him, “can i join you? hunting things. i’m tired of my life, sam. my father just left me out here in the middle of nowhere. im from a boring town, with a boring life.. i want adventure.”

“we just met?” sam laughed softly, “you want to join us?”

“i’m serious,” you said, looking at him with soft eyes.

“i’ll get you a motel, and i’ll talk to my brother. you sleep on this, okay?” sam said, taking the car out of park and beginning to drive it down the country road.

you nodded, gazing out the window once more.

← 𝐒𝐀𝐌 𝐖. 𝐌𝐋

𖤐 phanatomism 2025.

[imagineteamfreewill]

Powerful Magic

Title: Powerful Magic

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 13.7k

Warnings: Brief language, witches, magic/curses, frequent mentions of death and dying, crying, very light blood, angst, fluff

Summary: While on a witch hunt in Boston, Sam puts his life on the line to save Y/N. When he begins to suffer from the effects of the magic the next morning, they’re forced into an impossible situation with no way out. 

A/N: This is a commission for the lovely @park-simphwa. Thank you to them for giving me such a fun prompt to write, and thank you to everyone who supports me in a million other ways. As always, I hope you enjoy this story!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

You aren’t expecting to run into anyone on the grocery run, least of all your old hunting partner, but life’s been throwing fireball after fireball at you lately, so you really shouldn’t be surprised. It’s been years since you’ve seen Jason, and somehow he still looks exactly the same, maybe with a few more wrinkles and scars. His hair is still greasy and cropped close to his skull, and you can smell the cigarettes on him even from where you stand a few feet away. His boots are caked with dried mud that sprinkles across the tile of the grocery store every time he shifts his weight or takes a step to get out of someone’s way, which is often because he’s always been the type of guy that thinks of himself first and others second.

Smiling tightly, you yank your cart closer to the shelves of jarred salsa and bottles of colorful sodas to make room for people trying to get by, and you use that movement to look over your shoulder. There’s no sign of Sam or Dean.

Damnit.

“So, how’ve you been?” Jason asks. “You look good, Y/N.”

You nod. “Good, fine. How about you? Are you still…?” You don’t dare utter the words aloud, but Jason gets the hint. He nods.

“Still in pest control. It keeps me busy.” He grins, and you try not to grimace at the yellow tinge of his teeth. How had you ignored all of his red flags for so long? With the exception of your last hunt together, it’s not like Jason was necessarily a bad guy, he was just gross and inconsiderate. On top of the constant smoking, he always took too long to shower after coming back from hunts. You know for a fact that he only brushed his teeth once a week. Plus, you don’t remember ever seeing him do laundry, though logically, he’d done it at some point… Right? Or maybe you’d just gotten used to the stench.

“There you are,” Sam’s voice in your ear makes you shiver, but his hand on your lower back warms you right back up. “I was looking for you.” He pauses. “Who’s this?”

You glance up at him, smiling in relief. Sam doesn’t smile back. His face is a hard mask of protectiveness, one that you’re always grateful for, even if it’s being wasted. You know that he’s amping it up a little just because you were approached while he was out of sight. He’s always a little more protective when he thinks you’re getting hit on by some creep. You can’t count the number of times he’s pretended to be your boyfriend to help you avoid men hitting on you at the skeevy dive bars that you always seem to find after hunts. Part of you should be offended that he’s stepping in instead of letting you handle it yourself, but you know he doesn’t do it because he doesn’t think you’re capable. Sam does it because you shouldn’t have to fend them off on your own. You shouldn’t have to be in that position, but because you are, he’s not going to let you be there alone.

“This is Jason. He’s an old coworker, from before I joined up with you and Dean. Jason, this is my…”

You hesitate, instantly knowing that you shouldn’t. You and Sam are just friends. It doesn’t matter how badly you want to be more than that, or how easily the two of you fall into the rhythm of a fake relationship, both for a moment in the grocery store or for a week-long hunt. It doesn’t matter that Dean insists his younger brother likes you. It doesn’t matter what Sam said the one time you’ve seen him really, truly drunk. You’re just friends.

“—friend,” Sam finishes. He holds out his right hand, and his fierce expression has been replaced with a polite smile, though you can tell it’s fake. You know him well, but for a second, he almost looks a bit jealous. “Sam.”

Jason shakes his hand with both eyebrows raised. His smile had faded the second Sam approached, but now he seems uneasy. “Sam. And… Dean?” He glances between you and Sam. “As in…?”

You cut him off with a quick, “I’m so sorry, Jason, but we’re really cutting it close on time.” His mouth snaps shut and he has the decency to look chagrined. Anyone with any common sense in the hunting world knows not to name names, especially last ones. You never know who might be listening.

“She’s right. Dean’s waiting on us, and we’ve got to get back on the road. It was great meeting you,” Sam adds. “Any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine.” His hand drops from the small of your back. You try not to let your disappointment show.

With one last smile and a promise to keep in touch, even though all three of you know that you won’t, you make a u-turn with the cart and walk with Sam toward the checkout lanes. He doesn’t say anything as the two of you unload the items onto the belt, nor does he say anything as the items are scanned and bagged. Your stomach churns as the tension crackles between you. Why had you hesitated? Why had you acted so weird? Had Sam really been jealous, or did you just imagine it?

Chill out, you think as you load the bags of groceries into the cart. Sam pulls out his wallet and swipes his latest fraudulent card, then takes the receipt. You watch out of the corner of his eye as he tucks the card into the left hand pocket, the one he reserves for cards he’ll need to ditch soon.

You’re going to make this worse if you don’t relax.

You follow him out to the Impala, pushing the cart slow enough that you won’t run into him if he stops. Dean is already leaning against the side of the car. He has an energy drink in one hand and his phone in the other. Whatever else he decided to buy has already been loaded into the trunk. He glances between you and Sam as you get closer, clearly sensing something is off, and you watch as he straightens and deposits his phone into the pocket of his jacket.

“Everything okay?” Dean asks.

Before you can answer, Sam nods. “Yeah, all good. They were out of the soup you wanted.”

Dean grumbles to himself and opens the trunk, then helps you unload the groceries. His three bags of purchases are already tucked into the back, and you’re careful not to load anything on top of them in case he bought something that could get squished. As you work, Sam goes around to the passenger side and takes his seat, shutting the door behind him.

“What happened?” Dean asks you. He rearranges some of the bags you’ve put onto the trunk’s false bottom. Though there’s plenty of noise to talk over in the busy parking lot, he keeps his voice quiet enough that Sam won’t be able to hear it through the backseat. 

You don’t meet his eyes. “Nothing. Just ran into an old partner of mine, that’s all.”

“Partner?” You can feel his gaze on you, and your cheeks grow warm.

“Not like that,” you huff. “We were just… partners. For a while, it could have been something else, but it never happened.”

“Why not?”

Unloading the last bag, you glance up at the storefront, where Jason is exiting. He’s only got two bags in hand, but there’s a six-pack of beer tucked under his arm. He already has a cigarette tucked between his lips. Dean looks past you and grunts a little.

“If that’s him, I can see why.”

“Be nice,” you tell him.

“Was he at least a good guy?” 

You shrug. “He wasn’t bad. Just kinda gross, that’s all.”

Dean grabs your arm before you can walk away with the cart. You look back at him, and he’s watching you with the same protective glint in his eye that Sam had inside the store.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks, and you shake your head. “Did he say something to you in there?”

“No. That’s not why it was weird.”

“I gotta know if something happened, Y/N. If I’m gonna ride in the car with the two of you—”

“I hesitated, okay?” you answer, yanking yourself free from his grip. Your cheeks are definitely hot now, and it’s not the sun. It’s still cloudy from last night’s storm. “I went to introduce Sam and I hesitated.”

Dean is staring at you like you’ve just broken into song. “You hesitated?”

Sighing, you look up at the clouds, willing yourself not to be so embarrassed by this. It shouldn’t be this big of a deal. 

“Yes, I hesitated. Instead of just saying that his name was Sam, I said, ‘This is Sam, my….’” You gesture with the hand not holding the cart, letting the unfinished sentence hang in the air.

His face twists. “Oh. Rookie move, Y/N.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“So what did you end up saying?” Dean asks.

“I didn’t. Sam finished and said he was my friend.”

“And you want to be more than friends.”

“I didn’t say that,” you quickly reply, but you look away, and your cover is ruined.

“Why don’t you believe me when I tell you that he likes you? You two are driving me insane. I’m going to lose my mind before we ever get to Boston if this keeps up.”

You roll your eyes and head towards the cart corral, then push the cart in with the others. Dean’s already in the driver’s seat by the time you start walking back, and he starts pulling out of the spot as soon as you have the back door shut. Sam doesn’t say anything. You cast him a quick glance, but that’s all you risk as you settle into your usual spot with the book he’s loaned you. It isn’t one you’re particularly interested in, but you’ve traded books for the trip. You’re fairly certain that you got the short end of the stick. Despite the years of friendship under your belt, he never takes your book suggestions. Then again, you don’t take his.

The universe finally takes mercy on you, and the rest of the drive to Boston goes by faster than expected. You have one overnight stay in a motel, but the boys decide to get two rooms instead of one, so you get a queen size bed and the bathroom all to yourself. 

Once in Boston, you check in to a second motel, then head out to get your bearings. The person who sent the information to Dean had only given you the address for the hotel where the witch is supposedly hiding out, plus the names of two of the victims. Sam decides to look at some old, non-digitized records of the hotel, so you go with him, knowing that if you go with Dean, you’ll most likely end up at the morgue. You’re not really in the mood for a dead body. You’ll take an afternoon with your best friend over that any day, even if your best friend is currently giving you the cold shoulder.

You’re in one of the reservable rooms at the library, looking over the papers and logbooks spread out over the table, when Sam finally brings up the grocery store incident.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you look up from the patron log you’ve been carefully sorting through.

“Yeah, why?” You try not to seem surprised that he’s asking, considering he hasn’t said much of anything to you since you left the grocery store over 24 hours ago.

“You’ve been quiet since we ran into Jason.”

You shrug a little and look back down at the page, then flip it over to look at the names listed on the back. “I’ve been reading the book you loaned me.”

“It’s not that,” he says. “This is your ‘I made a mistake’ quiet.”

Not knowing how to answer, you keep your eyes on the book in front of you. Sam stares at you, and you can feel him watching you as you gingerly turn the page again.

“I don’t want to press—”

“I haven’t seen him in a while,” you finally say, still not looking up. It’s the truth, even if it’s not the whole truth. “It just… caught me off guard, that’s all. It’s not every day you run into someone that almost got you killed, you know? And then I was flustered when I introduced you, and I panicked. I was worried that maybe you were offended because I got all tongue-tied.”

He’s quiet for a second. You risk a glance in his direction, only to find that Sam is already watching you.

“What?” you ask. You fidget with the corner of the paper for a second, and then you have to force yourself to release it before you damage the time-worn parchment. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean—”

“No, that’s not it,” Sam interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not offended, Y/N. I don’t think you could ever offend me.”

The tension between you breaks, and you grin at him. “Oh yeah? Not ever?”

He laughs and pulls his laptop over to where he’s sitting. “Well, maybe if you—”

“No, you can’t take it back now!” you laugh. You scoot your chair closer to his, closing the palpable gap that had been left between you. Sam shifts his stuff to make room for you, and you smile wide, happy to have your friend back. You try to ignore the way your heart leaps into your throat for a brief moment after his hand brushes yours.

You continue researching, but only a couple minutes have passed before Sam clears his throat and speaks up again.

“So, you and Jason,” he starts, and you close the logbook. There’s nothing useful in it and you add it to the growing pile of books you’ve finished.

“What about me and Jason?”

“Were you ever… together?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Like, dating?” Sam nods and you grab another book, not wanting to look at him when you answer, “Yeah, for a little while, right before we split.”

“Ah.”

“Mm-hmm.” You open the book, silently hoping he doesn’t ask any more questions about Jason. The two of you have never really talked about any of your past partners. It’s a sore subject for Sam, so you’ve respected the territory, even though you’ve come dangerously close on a few occasions. You usually don’t mind, considering you’d have to lie if he asked if you were interested in dating, and he can always tell if you’re lying.

“You said he almost got you killed,” Sam says, his voice a little softer. His fingers stall over his laptop keyboard, and the screen goes black.

You look up from the book and he’s watching you carefully, gauging your reaction. He knows how hard it can be to discuss the past, and you’re in public. It’s not exactly the safest place for a hunter heart-to-heart. These kinds of conversations are best held in the bunker, or late at night in a motel room.

After a second, you nod. “Yeah. He… He used me as bait, and I didn’t know that was the plan. And then, while he was waiting for them to approach me, he got drunk. He showed up much, much later than he should have.”

You have to look away and swallow the lump in your throat. Under the table, Sam finds your hand and squeezes. 

“I promise to never do that to you,” he tells you, with such conviction that tears spring up in your eyes.

You squeeze his hand in return, blinking quickly to clear your vision. “I know.”

“I will always keep you safe, Y/N. You know that, right?”

Nodding, you look up and take a steadying breath, then smile a little. Sam’s expression doesn’t change. He’s not smiling back at you. Instead, he’s staring at you with an unmatched ferocity, and your smile fades.

“I know,” you gently reply. “I’ve never doubted that.”

You and Sam stare at each other for a long few moments. The other patrons in the library continue to go about their business, and he holds your hand under the table until his phone chimes loudly and several people look over. Sam pulls away first, reaching for the phone. You turn back to the book, feeling like a rug’s been pulled out from underneath your feet. 

What was that all about?

You and Sam have spent countless hours alone together, even going so far as to pose as a couple on a hunt, but it’s never felt like this before. He’s never been so adamant that you know he cares about you and your safety, and he’s never asked about your past love life. Sam’s a passionate guy, too, but you rarely see this side of him. His passion is normally directed toward hunts, or toward the academic subjects and topics he studies in his free time.

“Dean’s got a lead,” Sam relays, staring at the message on his phone. He texts back a response as you nod and begin to pack up. He puts his phone away and starts to help, and you finish cleaning up together, bumping elbows and hands as you stack the materials the way they’d come. Sam carries them back to the circulation desk before you can offer to help, leaving you to follow behind. You don’t mind.

As soon as the three of you are together again, Dean drives to the abandoned hotel and parks in an alley, far enough back from the street that you won’t be easily seen. You unload the guns and witch-killing bullets while they compare notes. You listen in silence as you load all three weapons. The whole thing sounds very straightforward.

“Ready?” Sam asks, and you nod, holding out his gun. He takes it and gives it a quick once-over before nodding his approval. Dean does the same.

You decide to head into the hotel through the old maintenance entrance. The two victims had been found just outside the door, and you quickly discover that it was the right choice. Dean taps on your shoulder only a minute after you enter the building, then points at a bookshelf half-full of spell ingredients. Jars of all shapes and sizes hold everything from small animal bones to a shimmering blue liquid that reminds you of the “potions” you would make using various soaps and shampoos as a kid. It’s one of the few memories you and Sam have in common from your childhoods, though you made yours at your house and his toiletries came from a long string of motels. 

There’s another tap on your shoulder and you glance behind you at Sam, who gestures to your left with his gun. You turn down the hallway, following the sound of shuffling that you hadn’t heard before. It gets louder as you get closer, and then the person begins to chant. Her voice is deep and rich, and without realizing it, you’re lowering your gun. All you want to do is listen. The Latin is almost melodic.

“What are you doing?” Dean hisses. He pulls you away from an open doorway by the collar of your jacket. You stumble and blink at him.

“She okay?” Sam whispers. 

“I have to…” You struggle to voice the burning desire inside of you, the little voice in your head telling you to find the witch. Deep down, you know that it’s dangerous and that you’re being affected by whatever spell she’s performing, but your hands move of their own accord, pushing the boys out of your way. 

Stop! You have to fight this, you think, but it’s as if your conscience is behind a thick glass pane. Your own thoughts feel muffled and far away. They’re useless against the effects of the witch’s magic.

Sam reaches for you, and you dodge him as you duck into the next room of the hotel. It’s an old ballroom with high, vaulted ceilings. A dusty chandelier with cracked crystal pendants hangs precariously over the center of the patterned dance floor, and cobwebs are strung up in every corner. Broken tables and chairs are pushed against one wall, and boarded up windows separate you from the garbage-littered street outside. A balcony winds around two of the walls, with the staircase behind the witch. The banister is made of marble columns and a dark wooden handrail coated with a thin layer of dust. Lit candles litter the floor, and beneath the chandelier, the witch stands surrounded by metal bowls of ingredients and a sigil painted in white.

She reaches out a hand for you when you enter. You’re in a daze, and as your feet carry you closer to her, your gut churns. Something inside you is screaming—every hunter’s instinct you have is telling you to lift your gun and shoot, but you reach down and place your weapon on the dusty tile instead. 

Chanting louder, the witch’s eyes begin to glow a vibrant red. An aura around her does the same, and your breath hitches at the sight. 

This is wrong!

She smiles then, beckoning you with her fingers, and the sudden onset of nerves dissipates. You smile back, taking another step. 

“Y/N!”

Dean’s voice makes you blink, and you flinch when a gunshot goes off behind you. It hits the banister behind the witch. Her volume increases again, reeling you back in as she pulls a thin, jagged knife from a sheath at her hip. Letters etched onto the blade glow red as well, and your eyes are drawn to it. Your mouth feels dry as you shuffle forward, entirely focused on the weapon in her hand.

“That’s it,” the witch coos, now finished with the incantation. “It’s alright, dear one.”

“Y/N, don’t!” Another shot rings out, but it sounds far away as you step closer. You’re almost to the edge of the sigil. Two more steps and you’ll be within her reach.

Someone grabs your arm, yanking you backwards. She screams a horrible scream, one that makes you shudder and cringe as an arm winds around your stomach, pulling you even further away. Your feet drag across the floor and you cling to the arm of whoever’s holding you. You’re torn between fighting them and letting yourself be rescued, but then the glow from the witch’s eyes fade. You gasp for air, feeling her hold on you relax.

“Dean,” you croak. You can’t see his face, but the feel of his jacket against your palms is familiar and comforting. Your throat feels raw, as if you’ve been screaming for hours. You go to say something, to warn him that her spell is almost finished, when the red light concentrates at her fingertips. “Dean!” 

There’s a flash of red. You close your eyes, turning your head away as Dean pulls you harder against him and whirls around so his back is toward the witch. Over the witch’s shout, you hear Sam yell something, and then there’s a heavy thud.

“Sammy!” Dean releases you, cursing, and you fall to your hands and knees. 

You yelp when you hit the floor. Your bones immediately ache from the impact, and you stay there for a minute. You know that you’ve messed up. Guilt blooms in the center of your chest and tears well up in your eyes. You feel weak and, for a second, violated. You should’ve been able to resist the witch’s magic.

Get it together, you silently order. You have to focus. You can feel bad after you kill her.

“Y/N!”

Looking over, you see Dean crouching beside his brother, who’s laid out on his side. Sam’s eyes are closed and your chest tightens.

“Sam!” you cry, and you scramble over to where he lays just outside the witch’s sigil.

Dean rolls him onto his back, and you kneel beside him, cradling his face in both hands as you search for any sign of life.

“Sam? Sam, wake up,” you plead.

“He’s still breathing,” Dean tells you. “She knocked him out with whatever that was.”

“Please, Sam. Please, open your eyes.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding, and you’re crying by the time he inhales sharply through his nose and blinks his eyes open. They immediately focus on you.

“Thank God,” you sob, and you throw yourself on top of him, hugging him tightly. Sam’s hand comes up to pat at your back.

“You okay?” Dean asks.

Sam grunts and winces as you pull back to look at him. “I think so,” he says after a second. “Did you get her?”

You shake your head and take a shaky breath, wiping at your cheeks and eyes. You sniffle for good measure, then say, “She got away, but she hit you with something. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

He shakes his head back at you, then closes his eyes. “It’s not your fault. She was more powerful than we thought,” he tells you. With his eyes still closed, he feels for your hand. He squeezes it when he finds it, and you squeeze back, just like you had in the library.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean asks. “You hit the floor pretty hard.”

“Just give me a minute.”

After several minutes, Sam slowly sits up. You and Dean help him to his feet, and then the three of you make your way back through the hotel to the car. Sam seems mostly himself on the drive back to the motel, but you’re on edge. You watch him carefully, cataloging anything that’s even slightly out of character.

“We’ll have to keep you awake tonight, make sure you don’t have a concussion,” Dean says as he sheds his jacket. He throws it over the back of one of the dining chairs.

“I definitely have a headache,” Sam replies. He moves slowly and stiffly, and you don’t blame him. You’ve been thrown to the floor dozens of times. It never hurts any less.

“I’ll take first shift,” you tell Dean. “Clean up and get some rest.”

He nods and heads into the bathroom while you help Sam get settled on the bed. You take his jacket from him, carefully noting how he winces when he moves his right shoulder, and drape it over the second chair.

“It’s a good thing we’re friends,” Sam says. He takes off his socks and shoes, then positions the pillows behind him so he can sit up against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“Huh?” Your heart skips a beat. What’s he talking about?

“It would really suck staying up with me,” he clarifies. “If we weren’t friends, that is.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You smile a little before plugging in your phone. “You want some water?”

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

You freeze, fiddling with the lid of the ice bucket. You’ve got your back to him, so he can’t see the way you close your eyes, but he’s caught on to your lingering guilt much sooner than you hoped he would. You were hoping that Dean would at least be asleep before you had to have this conversation.

“I’m fine,” you answer. You grab the bucket and turn, giving him a forced smile. “Just tired. I’m gonna go get some ice.”

Sam swings his legs back over the side of the bed. He tries to hide his wince, but you catch it. You always do.

“I’ll come with you,” he says.

“You already took your shoes off.”

“What’s a little tetanus between friends?” He smiles at you and stands. You step closer, ready to steady him if needed. He’s fine, however, and he takes the ice bucket from you before gesturing toward the door.

Unable to argue, you lead him outside. The two of you walk in silence until you hear the door click shut. You’re already several rooms down, but the motel is larger than most, and the only working ice machine is in the tiny vending machine room at the far end of the building.

“What happened back at the hotel?” Sam asks.

You know he won’t judge you, but you keep your gaze forward. You don’t want to see his expression.

When you haven’t replied after passing several rooms, he gently asks, “Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” you finally admit, shoving your hands in your jacket pockets. You’re glad you kept it on. There’s a receipt in one of the pockets and you crush it into a ball as you continue, “Whatever spell she was doing… It’s like it was directed at me. I didn’t even realize what was happening until it was too late, but by then I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t control myself. I was just—”

You inhale sharply and stop walking, looking up at the dilapidated roof covering the motel walkway. You’re blinking away tears again, and you hate how weak you feel. 

“It’s not your fault,” he says. He moves to stand in front of you, blocking the sun as it sets over the motel parking lot. “She was more powerful than we anticipated.”

Sniffling, you cross your arms over your chest and stare at one of the support columns off to the side. “I know.”

“You’re still you,” Sam says.

“What?”

“You’re still you,” he repeats. “No matter how her magic affected you, you’re still you. You’re not any less strong or smart or tough than you were before we went into that building.”

Tears truly well up at his words and you look up again, letting out a weak chuckle. “How is it that you know exactly what to say?” You wipe at your eyes and take a shaky breath to try and steady yourself.

When you finally meet his gaze, Sam answers, “Because I know you better than anyone else, and because I’ve been where you are. And you know what you told me the last time I was doubting myself because of all the crap I’ve been through?”

You sniffle and force a wobbly smile, remembering the late-night conversation you’d had months ago after he’d had a particularly awful nightmare. “That you’re still you,” you repeat. “And that we’ll always be friends, no matter what.”

Sam smiles back. After a second, he tilts his head to the side, toward the door to the vending machine room. You nod and start walking again, and he falls into step beside you. The silence that settles between you is comfortable again, and the knots in your stomach have loosened with his reassurance.

You get back to the room to find Dean already asleep, face-down on the bed. Sam climbs back into bed as well, and you fill up both your and his water bottles with ice water. He takes it with a silent, grateful smile. You slide under the covers beside him, intent on researching the witch on your laptop while he reads on his phone. You probably should yell at him for staring at a screen with a possible concussion, but you both know that he’s had so many that a few hours in front of a screen won’t kill him at this point.

Dean wakes up a few hours later and switches places with you. Though you know you should probably shower before you sleep, resting up is more important if you’re going to find the witch sooner rather than later.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Dean. Just tired.”

“Maybe you should hang tight for today, try and get some sleep while Y/N and I do a little more research.”

You blink your eyes open and immediately squint. Dean must have every light in the motel room on. You swear he does it to spite you, and you groan in protest.

“Good morning to you too,” he teases, stepping into your line of vision.

You throw a pillow at him, and Dean catches it with one hand, laughing. You grunt and push yourself up with one hand, using the other to rub at your eyes.

“How’d you sleep?” Sam asks.

Yawning, you start to answer, but you stop as soon as you see him. Sam looks awful. His skin is pale and drawn, and the bags under his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen. He gives you a weak smile.

“We’re heading to the diner down the street for breakfast,” he says. “You wanna come with?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dean replies. He pulls on his jacket and digs the keys out of his pocket. “Except back to bed.”

You sit up a little more, frowning. “You sure you’re not sick?” you ask Sam. “I mean, I’ve seen you when you’re tired, but you look…”

“Like he’s been hit with a spell,” finishes Dean. “I’ve already told him that, but he says that the witch didn’t say anything when she hit him with that freaky red light.”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam says. He stands from the side of the bed, but he instantly starts to sway. You’re on your feet in a split-second, steadying him with a hand on his arm.

“Maybe you should stay here,” you quietly suggest. You glance over at Dean, who holds up his hands.

“I’ll be in the car,” Dean tells you, and you nod. 

You and Sam stand in silence until Dean’s gone and the door shuts behind him. Then, you look at him with as stern a look as you can muster having just woken up.

“Be honest.”

“I’m tired.”

“Sam.”

He sighs.

“Sam.”

“I’m… exhausted. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this tired in my life, and I want to sleep, but I’m scared,” he admits.

Your eyebrows push together as you frown even harder, and you guide him to sit beside you on the edge of his bed. “Why are you scared?”

“The witch didn’t say anything when she hit me with whatever it was, but we also know that her magic was strong enough to affect you from several rooms away,” Sam says. “If she did something to me, we have no clues as to what it is.”

You hum a little, mulling over his words for a second before looking over at him. “What if I gave Rowena a call? Had her come check you over, see if there’s any kind of lingering effect we haven’t seen yet?”

Sam takes a deep breath, then exhales and shakes his head. “We already owe her.”

“It’s a price I’m willing to pay. You’re my best friend, Sam. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Because I wouldn’t know what to do without you. Those words go unspoken, but you hope he hears them regardless.

Nodding, Sam replies, “Okay. Okay. I’ll… I’ll give her a call.”

“No, I’ll do it. You should rest. I’ll keep an eye on you,” you assure him. “I’ll make sure you’re safe, Sam.”

He smiles just a little bit, though you can tell it’s only for your sake. “You always do.”

You get up to grab your phone from where you’d left it charging, and Sam slowly lays back on the bed. As you type out a text to Rowena, you try to remember if the witch really hadn’t said something, or if you’ve just forgotten it.

“I’m gonna text Dean and let him know to go ahead without me. Do you want him to get you anything?” you ask. He doesn’t reply. “Sam? Did you hear—”

Turning, you stop when you see Sam has his eyes closed. For a second, you worry that he’s dead, and you hold your breath as you wait to see his chest move. When it does, you exhale heavily.

He’s okay, you reassure yourself. He’s going to be just fine.

You shoot a quick text to Dean with your order, plus a few things that Sam might want, and Rowena replies as soon as you’re done. She’s nearby. 

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully. Sam sleeps for an hour or so at a time. Every time he wakes, he looks more tired than before, and the smaller-than-usual meals he eats don’t seem to help him at all. It’s hard to tell since he’s been in bed most of the day, but when he gets up around dinnertime, he looks thinner. 

Dean’s pacing the length of the room by the time Rowena shows up at the door, and you’re in even worse condition. You’re pretty sure that if she’d shown up any later, he might actually have relented and taken Sam to a hospital. You caught a glimpse of his phone when he passed by and he had the directions already open on his maps app.

Rowena stands beside the bed and moves her hands over Sam’s chest. He’s awake now, and he stares straight up at the ceiling as she works. A soft glow emanates from her palms, but as you watch from a few feet away, it strengthens, turning from golden to crimson to a vibrant purple.

“Well?” Dean asks. He shifts in place by the small dining table. His fingers twitch and he makes a fist with one hand. “Is he alright?”

She drops her hands and turns to face the two of you. Sam sits back up against the headboard, and you glance over at him. His eyes are bloodshot, as if he hasn’t slept in days. You’ve seen him look like this before, but it’s never been this concerning. He’s never managed to look this ragged so quickly.

“It’s a siphoning curse,” she explains, adjusting the jacket she’s wearing over her black jumpsuit. 

“Siphoning?” Dean questions. “Siphoning what?”

“Life.”

You suck in a breath. It’s cold against your teeth, and Sam meets your eyes. There’s recognition in them, and not in a good way. A lump forms in your throat as you turn back to Rowena.

“Life?” you ask her. “But… Then…”

“I’ll die,” Sam finishes.

You blink. Your eyes burn and you frantically shake your head, taking a deep breath. Inside your chest, your lungs stutter as you try to compose yourself.

“No,” Dean says, shaking his head. “No. There’s got to be a way.”

Rowena purses her lips a little. She clearly knows more, and you take a step forward, clenching both hands into fists.

“Tell us,” you demand. “Tell us!”

You don’t mean to scream—you really don’t—but it just comes out. Dean reaches for you, grabbing your arm and looking toward the door with wide eyes as he listens for a response from anyone nearby who might have heard. Rowena doesn’t react. Swallowing thickly, you look from her to Sam, who has his eyes downcast and his hands folded in his lap. If you didn’t know any better, you might think he was sleeping, but the way he grimaces as you yank your arm from Dean’s tells you that he’s awake and listening.

Your throat feels raw and you swallow again. “How long?” you croak. 

“A week, at most,” Rowena adds. “It’s likely he will be unconscious for the last few days. It takes a lot of energy to stay awake, and his body will try to conserve as much as it can before it fully shuts down.”

Dean mutters a curse and shakes his head again. “No. There has to be a way. A counter-curse?”

Rowena shakes her head, and this time, her expression is almost apologetic. “I’m afraid not. Whoever cast this spell is very powerful, and it would take extremely powerful magic to reverse the curse.”

You look from her, to Sam, to Dean, and then finally back at her. Rowena is the most powerful witch you know.

“Can you reverse it?”

“I’m sorry, dear,” she replies, meeting your gaze. Her lips press together in a sad smile. It’s the first show of genuine emotion you’ve seen from her, and it’s not enough. “But this is beyond even me.”

“And if we killed her?” Dean asks.

“It won’t have an effect. You still need the magic to reverse it. Not even the caster herself can reverse this particular curse once it’s taken hold.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“Go home,” Sam finally says. It’s so quiet that you almost miss it in your hurry to ask about recruiting another witch to help you, but you stop with your mouth open. Sam opens his eyes and sighs softly. “We go home.”

“Bullshit. I’m not taking you home just so you can die!”

“Dean. Enough. You heard what she said.”

Rowena looks between Sam and Dean. After a moment, she says, “I need a moment alone with Samuel here.”

Immediately, Dean is on guard. He straightens up, standing tall as he stares her down with enough ire that you want to shirk back, and you’re not even on the receiving end of his glare.

“I might be able to give him some more time,” she gently adds. With more confidence than you think you could muster if you were in her shoes, she places a hand on Dean’s arm and takes one step forward, guiding him toward the door.

“One of us stays,” Dean answers, nodding his chin in your direction. 

Rowena nods, agreeing, “Y/N is welcome to stay, but you have a habit of riling him up. Big brothers always have a way of doing that, in my experience.”

“I need to know what you’re doing before you do it. No funny business,” he adds.

She nods again and gestures with one hand to the door. “Let’s talk outside.”

You stand by the dresser, watching as she leads Dean out of the room. He exits with one last look over his shoulder at Sam, but Rowena pacifies his worries with words too quiet for you to hear. She gives you a strange look before she follows him out and closes the door behind them.

You stare at the door for a second, then at the window adjacent. The white horizontal blinds have gaps in them after years of use, and you’re able to see Dean, then Rowena, as they move to the side to talk. Eventually, they walk away, most likely to the Impala for spell ingredients. Sam’s been keeping a small travel case in the trunk for the past year or so, especially since you’ve been away from the bunker more and more often.

As you wait for them to return, your gaze drifts back to Sam. He’s watching you.

“What?” you ask after a second.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” You wipe your cheeks with both hands, unsurprised that there are tears you hadn’t initially registered. “I probably look a mess right now.”

“Not any more than me, I’m sure,” he replies with a wry smile. You both fall silent for a minute before he continues, “You’re gonna be okay, you know.”

“What?” Your voice cracks. You hate it.

“Without me.”

You inhale through your nose and push your hair back, doing anything to keep your hands busy. “Don’t— Don’t talk like that. Rowena said she might be able to give you more time. We’ll find something, Sam. You’re not going to die.”

“I was going to die eventually. Everyone does.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” he asks.

You look up at the ceiling, staring for a few seconds at the circular brown water stain that stretches several feet into the room. You’re lucky it hasn’t rained in Boston since you arrived, judging by the darkness of the stain. The dark brown is unchanging, but it’s not enough to steady yourself.

“I don’t want to live without you,” you finally say, your voice trembling.

Sam doesn’t answer, and when you look down at him, he’s wiping tears from his own face. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look truly upset since Rowena broke the news.

Maybe it’s just finally settling in, you think.

His chest shudders as he takes a breath and it’s enough to propel you forward, to move you to his side. You stand beside the bed, staring down at him until he reaches for your hand. He grabs it with more strength than he’s shown all day and you suck in a sharp breath, tears welling up in your eyes all over again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sam,” you whimper, and you use your free hand to wipe them away, but he shakes his head. He pulls you down until you’re sitting on the opposite side of him. Your legs are draped over his and your feet dangle over the edge of the bed. You lean against his shoulder and start to cry in earnest, and Sam holds you. He doesn’t ask you to stop, and for that, you’re grateful.

Your cries have petered out by the time Rowena and Dean come back into the room. You can’t bear to make eye contact with them as they return, so you stare at where Sam is holding your hand atop your knees. Besides letting out the occasional sniffle, you simply listen as Rowena explains her plan to help extend Sam’s life. It’s a complex spell, one you’ve never heard of. She claims it will only add a few days, essentially putting off the point where he’ll become comatose, but it’s more hope than you had before. Sam asks questions about the ingredients and the text and the magic, which Rowena answers somewhat impatiently. Dean is strangely quiet.

“You’ll have to move for the spell, dear,” Rowena gently instructs.

Nodding, you clumsily pull your legs from Sam’s lap and move to roll off the other side of the mattress, but Sam grabs your hand before you get too far. You look back at him, confused.

“Stay,” he says. “Please.”

After a second, you nod again, then settle against the headboard beside him. Sam carefully lays down on his back. He rests one arm in the space between his body and the edge of the bed, but he takes your hand with the other. You rub your thumb over his as Rowena takes her place on the other side of him and begins to mix the spell in the small copper bowl they’ve retrieved from the Impala.

She chants, her eyes glowing purple, and Sam squeezes your hand with a grunt. His grip is almost bone-crushing and it takes everything in you not to yelp.

Stay strong, you urge yourself. He can’t help it.

The glow of Rowena’s eyes grows so bright it’s blinding. You look away, closing your eyes and gritting your teeth as Sam squeezes your hand even tighter, but then suddenly, he releases you.

You open your eyes and look over to see him passed out beside you. The purple light is fading and your heart leaps into your chest.

“Sam?” 

“Sam!” Dean cries. He pushes Rowena backwards onto the other bed and pulls his gun on her. “What the hell did you do to him?”

She holds up her hands in defense as you shake Sam by the shoulder, then pat his cheek. “Your precious brother will be fine,” she soothes, a small smile on her face. “The spell takes some time to activate, like I told you. He’ll look better when he’s awake again.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you? Just like that?” Dean gestures a little with the gun, but it stays pointed in her direction.

Rowena scoffs. “Don’t forget that you came to me, Dean Winchester. You already owe me for the spell.”

You’re gentle as you check to make sure Sam’s still breathing. He is and you sit back on your feet.

“She’s right,” you say. “He’s still breathing.”

Raising an eyebrow, Rowena stares Dean down until he lowers the gun. She gives him a satisfied smile when he reluctantly tucks it back into his waistband, then stands and dusts off her hands. 

“Now,” she sighs, smoothing the wrinkles in her jumpsuit from where Dean had shoved her. “I believe some payment is in order.”

Dean turns around to look at you. For a second, you stare at each other, and you have the brief thought that he might do something stupid, or crazy, or both, but then he grits his teeth and his jaw clenches. That’s when you know that he’s fighting the urge to pull his gun back out. The only reason he hasn’t is because Sam’s life is already on the line. One bad choice could lead to Rowena casting another curse on him.

“Go,” you quietly urge. “I’ve got him.” You nod in encouragement, and Dean returns it with one terse nod of his own.

You carefully move Sam’s hands to rest on his stomach, then sit beside him as Dean leads Rowena back out to the Impala. Whatever he’s giving her as recompense for the spell, it must be valuable, because he comes back in with clenched fists and muttering curses under his breath. He begins to pace the length of the room again. You don’t interrupt. Your chest aches and an empty feeling grows as you think of what life will be like if you can’t save Sam. Dean’s jaw is still clenched, and you know he’s doing the same.

“We—” He stops by the door to the bathroom, lifting a hand, but he drops it back down by his side. “Y/N, we have to find something.” His voice breaks and a lump forms in your throat, just as tears form in Dean’s eyes.

You nod. “I know.”

“We’ll— I’ll give Jody a call, and Garth. Maybe they’ll know of another witch that can help us.”

You look down at Sam and inhale shakily. With one hand, you adjust the sleeve of Sam’s t-shirt.

“I’m gonna take him home,” you tell Dean, not looking up.

“What?”

“He said he wanted to go home. I’m gonna take him home.”

“Like hell you are!”

Finally, you look up and meet Dean’s eyes. You have to take a second to breathe when you see him. You’ve been with Dean Winchester for plenty of hunts, but he’s never looked this afraid. He’s a man that laughs in the face of danger, not one whose hands tremble when he thinks about his brother dying.

“We have to try, Y/N,” Dean says, and he’s staring at you with eyes so wild that you find yourself gripping the motel sheets crumpled beside you. “I can’t just let him die. Not like this.”

You have no response. Dean will just argue if you try to reason with him, but you know that Sam isn’t one to prolong the inevitable. It doesn’t matter how terrified of a future without him you are. If he’s made his peace with it, then you need to consider doing the same.

Even if it kills me too, you think.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Okay.”

Dean swallows thickly, then nods once. “I’ll start calling. See what I can find.” He’s just looking for a reason to leave the room so you can’t see past his hardened exterior, and you both know it, but you don’t argue. 

You stare at the edge of the bed, just behind where he’d been standing, as he starts to leave. He’s made it to the door when you lift your head and look over at him.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Someone needs to be in the bunker. It’s better if he goes with me than with you.” Before he can argue, you continue, “What if you need to check something against one of the books? Or if you need an ingredient we don’t keep in the car? What’s your plan then? Sam knows both the library and the storage rooms better than both of us combined, and he’ll be able to rest when he needs it. Plus, if I need to, I can try and recreate the spell Rowena cast to give him extra time.”

Dean is quiet for a minute, but you see him nod through the gaps in the metal floral divider that separates the door from the rest of the room.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Then you two should get going. The sooner you’re there, the better.”

You’d driven together in the Impala, but it doesn’t take long for Dean to hotwire a car from the farthest row of the motel parking lot. The backseat is, mercifully, big enough for Sam to lay down without being at too strange an angle. You and Dean drag him from the room to the car together. You’re lucky that it’s getting dark and no one is out to watch the ordeal.

Dean loads your backpack and Sam’s duffel into the trunk. Then, he sends you off with a simple, “Drive safe,” and a hug. He holds you a little longer than normal, but you’re not opposed. It’s nice to know that you’re not alone in this.

The drive is uneventful. Sam sleeps for most of the night. He only wakes up a few times during the day for food and bathroom stops, and though he looks better since Rowena’s spell, he’s lost muscle mass and he still looks exhausted. You have to support him on the walk across the street to the motel the following night, but he falls asleep again almost as soon as he’s in bed. His sleep seems to be dreamless, and for that, you’re thankful.

You, on the other hand, don’t sleep much. You probably should, considering you haven’t slept in 24 hours, but your brain won’t turn off. You spend most of that night awake, listening to Sam breathe, texting Dean about his progress, and doing what research you can online. At some point you actually do fall asleep, and you wake to the sound of Sam stumbling across the room to the bathroom.

He’s getting weaker, you think, and you lay on your back, listening to the sound of the toilet flushing and the sink running as you stare up at the ceiling. You’ve cried so much over the past few days that the thought of crying now is exhausting. You just don’t have the energy.

It’s not a strange occurrence for you to lay in bed and listen to the boys move around a motel room. There have been plenty of mornings that Dean has gone out for food while Sam showers after his run, leaving you to soak up a few more minutes of sleep under the covers. Now, you can’t help but feel a little nostalgic for all those mornings. You don’t have many more with Sam, and Dean can be unpredictable when he’s grieving. You’re not sure if he’ll go off on his own or if you’ll be able to stick together.

When the door creaks open, you turn on your side and meet Sam’s eyes. His face, which you’ve come to associate with bright mornings just as much as the sun itself, is gaunt. It’s a harsh reminder that you’re losing him bit by bit. His cheeks and eyes have begun to sink in as well, as if his body is collapsing inwards, like a black hole. The effects of Rowena’s spell seem to have been short-lived.

“Good morning.” He’s leaning against the open door frame of the bathroom, and he’s managed to pull on a pair of clean pajama pants and a t-shirt. 

You try not to let your bad mood show. “Morning. How’re you feeling?” you ask.

Sam shrugs a little and his gaze wanders to the digital clock on the nightstand. You have no idea what time it is or how much you’ve slept. You’re lucky that your phone was plugged in when you finally fell asleep.

“Same as yesterday. Maybe a little bit more tired. Where are we?” asks Sam.

Sitting up, you yawn and stretch your arms above your head, then roll your shoulders and neck to try and release some tension. 

“Ohio,” you tell him. You roll over to grab your phone and check the time—it’s after eight, and you’ve missed half a dozen texts from Dean. None of them are useful. “We’ve only got one more day of driving if I can go straight through. It’s about twelve hours.”

“We can take shifts.”

You look over your shoulder and fix him with a look, raising your eyebrows. He doesn’t react and you stand, then toss your phone onto the bed as you pull your socks back on your feet.

“I’m not letting you drive, Sam.”

“I can do it. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not risking it,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t risk it.”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?”

You falter as you rummage through your backpack for your last set of clean clothes. Sam is staring at you from the bathroom doorway, you can feel it, but you don’t look up at him. After a second, you slowly go back to searching. 

“Does it matter?” you finally ask.

He shuffles toward you and grabs your wrist, stopping you. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t move. Reluctantly, you look up and meet his eyes. They’re just as resigned as yesterday, and though it makes your chest ache, you can’t look away.

“If I only have a week—”

“You don’t know that, Rowena cast that spell—”

“—then I want to spend it with you,” Sam finishes, and you peter out, not even bothering to finish your claim that Dean will be able to find something to save him. You know it’s not worth it, not if Sam’s made up his mind.

He continues, “I want to spend it doing all the things I love doing with you. You’re my best friend, Y/N.”

You close your eyes and turn away, hoping he doesn’t see the tear that slips out and runs down your cheek. You hate this. You’ve never felt this helpless before, not even when you’d been held captive for a week. In that situation, you’d known that the boys would find you and save you. You have no way of helping Sam out of this.

“I want…” Sam trails off, and he tugs on your wrist to pull you into a hug. You wrap your arms tightly around him and press the side of your face against him, keeping your eyes closed. 

I wish it was me, you think. I wish it was me instead of him.

“What are you thinking?” Sam whispers. His breath ruffles the hair on the top of your head.

“This is all my fault,” you reply. You can’t tell him what you’re really thinking without him lecturing you, so you pick the next best option. It’s really not that much better, if you’re being honest.

“Don’t say that,” he says. He squeezes you once. “This isn’t your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault.”

“Sam—”

“No, I love you, and I’m not going to let you beat yourself up over this. It’s not your fault, Y/N. Okay?”

You nod. “Okay,” you quietly answer. It hurts to hear that Sam loves you. You know that he does—he’s your best friend, of course he loves you—but it hurts to know that he’ll never love you the way that you love him. He doesn’t have time to love you that way.

“I love you too,” you say after a moment. “I don’t…”

I have to tell him, you think. You start to pull away. Sam drops his arms, and he sits down as soon as he’s not touching you. The way he lowers himself to the edge of the mattress reminds you of some of the people you’ve seen in nursing homes while interviewing family members.

I can’t do this. He’ll just feel guilty.

“You don’t what?” Sam asks, and you look away.

“Never mind. I should get dressed,” you tell him. You turn back to the backpack and grab the clothes, then start heading to the bathroom with your clothes crumpled against your stomach. 

Sam reaches out with one hand and grabs your arm. “Talk to me.”

“Sam…”

“Please. I don’t want you to hide things from me because you think it’ll make me feel even worse. Trust me”—he lets out a wry laugh—“dying is the least of my worries right now.”

You freeze halfway to the bathroom, dropping your arms down to your side with your clothes clutched in one hand. After a second, you turn to face Sam, and you toss your clean clothes onto the bed behind him.

“That really doesn’t make this situation better,” you scoff. “I mean, come on, Sam! I’m about to lose the love of my life and he says that he’s not even worried about it? How’s that supposed to make me feel? Am I just supposed to be all, ‘Oh, okay! Let me tell you all about how I’ve had a massive crush on you—”

You stop talking the second you realize what you’re saying, which is much too late, and you snap your mouth shut. Sam stares at you with wide eyes and you stare back. Your heart is in your throat and when you finally feel embarrassed tears burning along your waterline, you turn around, clenching your hands into fists. 

Of all times for me to say that, you think, and you wish you could hide in the bathroom for the rest of the day.

“I’m gonna shower,” you manage to say. You take a step, then another, until finally, you’re locking the bathroom door behind yourself. 

Bracing your hands on the counter, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your heart is pounding inside your chest as your brain helpfully provides you with every possible outcome of the situation. None of them seem good. It should feel good to reveal the secret you’ve been holding so closely for years, but instead it’s only made you feel worse. On top of everything that Sam’s feeling and going through, he now has to deal with the news that you’re the biggest idiot on the planet. What kind of sappy Hallmark movie do you think you’re in? A hunter’s life doesn’t allow for love, let alone for a relationship with your hunting partner-slash-best friend.

A knock at the door startles you, and you quickly straighten up from the sink.

“Yeah?” Your voice is shakier than you’d like. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Can I come in?” Sam asks. He jiggles the doorknob.

“Um..” Your voice trembles again and you inhale deeply through your nose as you open your eyes and look around. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; your eyes are bloodshot and your hair is a rat’s nest. The neckline of the old t-shirt you’ve been wearing since yesterday morning is stretched out and gaping, revealing a fading scar from a werewolf three weeks ago.

“You can say no,” Sam adds. “I can wait out here for you.”

Reaching out with one hand, you twist the doorknob and open the door. Sam has one hand against the door frame to help keep himself upright. Somehow he looks even worse than when you’d been by the bed just a minute before.

It’s probably just the lighting. He can’t be dying that quickly, right?

He doesn’t speak right away, so you step back into the bathroom and pull back the shower curtain, getting ready to start your shower. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I reacted to that poorly.”

“I didn’t mean to say all that,” you quietly admit, stopping just past the end of the counter. You don’t dare look up at him right now. Instead, you look down at a yellowed stain on the edge, feeling heat rise in your cheeks. “It’s not fair of me to tell you and then run away, especially since it’s too late.”

He leans forward, slowly entering the bathroom so you have time to back away. You don’t.

“Who says it’s too late? I know it’s not ideal, but I did say that I wanted to spend my time with you.”

You shake your head, pressing your lips together as the new wave tears that have been forming finally escape. With one hand, you wipe them away and press your lips together. Sam pulls you into another hug.

“This is my worst nightmare,” you tell him. “I didn’t even know it was, but it is.”

“What? Spending time with me?”

A half-hearted laugh escapes you, and you blink your eyes a few times to try and clear the blurriness. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Sam kisses the top of your head and squeezes you once before dropping his arms so you can step away. Before you get too far, however, he reaches out to stop you.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he says, and you look back at him. 

The bathroom is tiny. It’s barely big enough for a sink, toilet, and bathtub-shower combo, but it feels miniscule once Sam steps inside. He’s taking up the space between the wall and the sink, leaving you to stand with your back to the shower and both the toilet and the wall within fingertip distance.

“Finish what?” you ask. Your heart skips a beat and your mind begins to jump to conclusions. What could Sam possibly have to finish that involves you? He’s not about to confess his undying love for you, right? That would be too cheesy, and too predictable for a hunter’s life. You don’t deserve that kind of happy ending.

Then again, it’s not so happy if he dies right after. You push that thought away immediately and try to focus solely on Sam.

He takes both of your hands in his, and though he sways a little, he stays upright. You try not to think about how his grip seems less firm than it has in the past.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I know,” you reply. “I love you too. And it’s okay if you don’t love me the same way. You don’t have to pretend to try and make me feel better. I’m not offended.”

Sam shakes his head and lifts your hands a little. “I love you, Y/N. I—” He stops to cough, a deep, bone-shaking, chest-rattling cough that forces him to lean against the wall on his left. He has to drop your hands to steady himself and cover his mouth, but you step closer and place one on his shoulder, hoping it’s enough to let him know that you’re there. When he drops his hand from his mouth, there’s blood on the side of his fist. Without a word, you tear off a piece of toilet paper so he can wipe it away.

“I’ve always loved you,” Sam manages after a few moments. He wheezes a little, and clears his throat to try and get rid of the raspiness left by his coughing fit.

“What?”

“I’ve—”

You quickly shake your head. “No, I heard you. I just don’t understand.”

He frowns at you, and you glance away, hating that you’re making this difficult for him. He’s balled up the bloody scrap of toilet paper in one hand, but he pushes himself off the wall and drops it into the trash can next to the sink. Without the support, Sam wobbles, and you reach out to catch him before he can fall forwards.

“You should sit,” you urge, and he shakes his head again.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Sam. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I’m not going to fall over. There’s no place to fall in here.”

“You could hit your head on the edge of the counter, or you could knock me over and we could both fall into the bathtub,” you argue. “You could land face-first on the toilet which sounds like a horrible way to be knocked unconscious. You could fall backwards and I wouldn’t have the chance to catch—”

You’re cut off when Sam slides one hand up to cup your jaw back with one hand, then tilt your head back to kiss you. He moves quicker than you’ve seen him move in since the curse, and you’re so shocked that it takes you a second to process what’s happening.

Sam Winchester is kissing me, you think, and you let your eyes fall closed when his fingers shift, weaving into your hair as he crowds infinitesimally closer to you. 

When he finally parts, pulling away just enough to catch his breath, you stay close, too. You can feel his chest heave a little as he breathes, and though it pains you to think that every time you kiss him from now on will be more and more difficult for him, you push those thoughts away. You want to savor this. You need to savor this.

“Sam,” you whisper, and he hums, then kisses you again. It’s shorter this time, and your hands migrate to fist in the loose fabric of the t-shirt at his sides.

“You kissed me,” you say the next time he pauses to breathe. He hums again and gives you another kiss. 

“Sam,” you insist, and he gives an impatient sigh. His hand moves to rest on your upper arm. The side of your face feels suddenly cooler in his absence.

Sam opens his eyes to look at you, and you pause for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. You’ve always loved the way Sam looks—you’d be crazy not to—but it’s the first time you’ve felt it’s okay to unabashedly take in the brilliance of his eyes. Sam is beautiful, but he’s also intelligent, funny, caring, strong, and brave. You can see all of that just by looking at him. Maybe it’s a testament to how well you know him, or maybe he’s just that beautiful. 

Both, you think. The thought makes you grin, and you duck your head to try and hide it. It’s definitely both.

“What?” Sam asks, impatience clear, though he’s not angry. “What’s so important that I had to stop kissing you?”

“You kissed me!”

“I know,” he answers. He leans into your space a little more. “I’d like to do it again.”

There’s heat in your cheeks now. It’s hard to tell if it’s from how he’s making you feel or if it’s from his proximity, but you’re not complaining about either of those things.

“Why?”

He gives you a look, one that asks if you’re serious, but you don’t rescind the question. Finally, Sam drops his hand from your arm to your hand, and he fiddles with your fingers as he answers,

“Because I love you, Y/N. I’m not sure how much clearer I can be.”

You gape at him. “So when you said that you’ve always loved me…”

“I meant it.”

Your brain is whirling as you process the new information, and Sam moves to sit on the edge of the counter. He still has your hand, so he pulls you with him. You let him lead you the few steps without a fight.

“So you…” You lick your lips, and you swear that he zeroes in on the movement because his eyes seem to grow darker despite the bright white light from the fixture in the ceiling. “You like-like me?”

Sam’s eyes lift from your lips to meet your gaze. He stares at you a second, then grins wide and lets out a loud laugh. It’s almost a guffaw, and it makes the heat flare up in your cheeks all over again. You feel silly, like you’re a teenager all over again, just waiting for the cute boy in class to make you swoon.

“Like-like you?” he asks. “Definitely.”

He pulls you close again, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. His legs bracket you on either side. You close your eyes and revel in his warmth and the scent of laundry detergent and the motel shampoo that somehow always smells better on him than it does you. It’s something you’ve come to associate with him, oddly enough, but you’re grateful. Motel shampoo is a constant in your life and it will always be there, even if he’s not. 

Sam sways a little bit, leaning a bit more on you, and you open your eyes, moving your head back slightly so you can look at him. His head has lolled to the side and his mouth is parted slightly. His eyes are closed, but his eyelashes flutter as if he’s just asleep.

“Sam?” you ask. He doesn’t respond, and panic replaces the giddiness you’d felt only moments before. “Sam? Hey, wake up for me. Open your eyes.”

You unwind one arm from around him, pulling it towards your stomach and out from under his arm that’s still around you. You pat his cheek a little and look for any reaction, but there isn’t any.

Cursing, you try to maneuver him off the counter to the floor. It takes all your strength to keep him from collapsing or hitting anything on the way down. By the time you get him stretched out on the grimy tile and the towel that you pull from the bar on the wall to cushion his head, you’re sweating.

“Please wake up,” you plead, kneeling on his left, near shoulder. His breathing is steady, but he’s just as comatose as he was before.

After a few moments, you launch yourself up and out of the bathroom. Your phone is still plugged in on the nightstand, so you grab it and frantically dial Dean’s number as you hurry back to the bathroom. Sam’s still out when you get back, and you crouch between him and the wall as you listen to the line ring over and over again. Finally, Dean answers.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Something happened, we were just—” You stop for a second, wondering if you should admit what you’d been doing, but Dean beats you to it.

“You were what, Y/N? What happened?” He’s shouting into the phone as he drives and you swallow thickly as tears burn in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did,” you choke out. “This is all my fault.”

“What the hell did you do?”

“Nothing! I mean, I kissed him! He kissed me first, and it seemed like he was alright, but then we were just talking and he gave me a hug and then he just passed out!”

Dean curses and you flinch at the volume, pulling the phone a few inches away from your ear. You’re on the verge of actually sobbing now, and you suck in a deep breath to try and stabilize yourself. Any sense of calm you’d felt less than a few minutes ago has completely vanished.

“He’s still breathing normally and I made sure he didn’t bump his head or anything—”

“You’re supposed to be taking care of him!” Dean shouts. “Where are you?”

“Ohio. At the Starlight Motel, off of I-71. We passed it on the way out to Boston.”

“I remember. I’m on my way.”

You can hear a turn signal on his end of the call and you set your phone on the floor, putting it on speaker. Judging by the noise in the background, he’s pulling off the road to turn around and head in your direction. After swallowing a few times, the lump in your throat begins to subside and you feel yourself starting to calm.

“How far away are you?” you ask, trying to focus on the steady sound of Sam’s breathing while at the same time listening for his response.

Dean answers, but you don’t hear it because Sam suddenly gasps for air. His eyes fly open as his chest heaves, and he coughs like he’s been suffocated. You shift onto your knees, lean forward, and quickly help him roll onto his side. He pushes you away with one hand as he props himself up with an elbow and continues to cough. You’re flustered and panicked, and your hands hover over his arm as you try to figure out how to help him further.

“Easy,” you soothe, and he takes another deep breath, followed by a few lighter coughs. There’s no blood this time, which is a welcome relief.

“I’m okay,” he wheezes. 

Still propped up on his left side, Sam closes his eyes. He breathes in and out slowly, steadying himself. After several seconds, the hand not bracing himself against the floor searches until it finds yours. He squeezes it once and you squeeze back, watching him intently.

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain?” you question.

He rolls backwards until he’s flat on his back again, but he keeps hold of your hand, resting it on his stomach. He breathes for another few moments before opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

“Sam?”

“Y/N! Damnit, what’s going on over there?” Dean is shouting from the phone, and you realize that you’ve forgotten all about it. With your free hand, you scramble to grab it and pull it to your ear, taking the call off speaker with a singular jab of your thumb.

“He’s awake,” you tell him, feeling pretty breathless yourself. Your heart is still racing from the scare of Sam lurching into consciousness. “He’s okay. He’s alright.”

“He’s— He’s okay okay, or just okay?” Dean asks.

You look back at Sam, who lets go of your hand and pushes himself up into a sitting position. When he sees you watching him, he reaches for the phone.

“Hey, Dean,” he says, and he listens for a second before answering, “I’m fine. I think it’s gone.” He glances over at you while Dean replies, probably with more questions. “No, I’m not sure what it was, but I feel fine. Y/N and I will try to figure out what it was, and I’ll give Rowena a call, see if she can meet us here. How far away are you?”

“Tell him I’ll text him the address,” you interject, and Sam nods, relaying the message. He listens for a few moments longer, glances at you again, and then tilts his head away to try and hide his smile.

“Jerk,” he says. He smiles wider at Dean’s response. You don’t have to hear it to know what he says.

Sam hangs up a second later and hands the phone back to you. Without saying anything, you text the address to Dean, then slip the phone back into your pocket.

“Are you really feeling okay?” you ask.

He nods. “I think the curse, whatever it was, is gone. I don’t feel tired, and I’m not even stiff from laying down all day yesterday. Do I look any better?”

You search his face, looking for any sign of fatigue. The color has returned to his face, and the strange thinness that had made your stomach turn this morning is gone. He looks like he did just a few days ago when you’d made up in the library. Even his muscle mass has miraculously returned.

“You look a lot better,” you tell him, beginning to smile. “Like nothing even happened.”

Sam smiles back at you, as radiant as the sun, and you find yourself falling into his arms. He wraps them around you, but after a second he pulls away to look you in the eyes.

“I love you,” he says. “I know I said it before, but I mean it.”

Still smiling, you push his hair out of his eyes, cupping his face with one hand. “I know. I love you too.”

He kisses you then, like he did before, and your heart swells. You sit back on your feet as Sam leans into you. He smiles into the kiss when your free hand skims the length of his arm.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” you murmur once you’ve caught your breath. “Okay?”

He nods, his forehead resting against yours. “Okay.”

You close your eyes, reveling in the feeling of him being so close. The two of you sit in silence on the bathroom floor. All the events of the past few days have worn you out, even with the few hours of sleep you got, and you eventually shift to rest your head against Sam’s shoulder. He reaches over with his right hand, rubbing your back in long, soothing strokes. You hold his other hand, the one he’d been using to prop himself up.

The silence is broken by your phone ringing after a few minutes. Sighing, you pull away and answer the call on speakerphone, setting it on the floor.

“I hear that Samuel’s on the mend,” Rowena says in lieu of greeting.

“I’m cured,” Sam answers. “Or at least we think I am.”

She hums in acknowledgement. “I’ll need more detail than that if you want me to tell you for sure. I may be powerful, but I’m not a mind reader.”

You roll your eyes at the haughtiness in her voice and reply, “He was unconscious for at least two minutes, but there was nothing leading up to it. He just passed out.”

“Did you eat or drink anything? Say any spells? Pray any prayers?”

Sam stares at the phone, his eyebrows furrowed together. “No. We were just talking and then—” He stops.

“And then you what?” Rowena prompts.

Sam’s eyes flicker from the screen to your face, and then he lets out a quiet chuckle. He’s smiling again, and you smile back. It’s contagious, despite the fact that you have no idea why he’s smiling.

“We kissed,” Sam tells her, not looking away. 

“I see.” Her arrogance has all but disappeared, and you know her just well enough to picture the sly smile forming on her face. “When it’s reciprocated by both, true love’s kiss is a very powerful form of magic. It’s one of the most powerful forms of magic. Wield it wisely, you two.”

You grin. “We will.”

She ends the call and you leave the phone on the floor, opting instead to lean in and kiss Sam again. 

“We definitely will,” he says.

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[justwhisperingfantasies]

I Can't Let You Go Prt 2

Characters: Sam Winchester x Female Reader, Dean Winchester, Castiel. Bobby Singer. Crowley. Death. Lucifer. Adam. Michael. Mention of other SPN characters.

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Angst, Hurt Dean, Sam, Reader, Bobby, and Cas. Guns, Cannon violence. Cannon with a twist. Let me know if I forgot any.

Summary: You have known Sam Winchester most of your life. He was your best friend and you were completely in love with him. The day after he decides to take on Lucifer and put him back in the cage is the day he finally makes himself tell you how he truly feels about you.

Word count: 6,364 words

A/N: I know it's been a while, I had a hard time writing this because I knew where it was headed. Sorry for the wait. Hope ya'll enjoy it. 💗

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You woke in the familiar room alone. You looked around and saw your duffle in the corner. Sam must have brought it up for you. You walked over and opened it. You found a clean pair of jeans and a gray V-neck shirt. Eh, that will work you thought. 

“Rise and shine,” Sam said as he walked in the door holding a cup of coffee. 

“Mmmm Thank you,” you said then sipped. “Oh, Dean coffee.”

He chuckled as he sat down on the bed. “Actually I made Dean show me how to make the “world’s best coffee”. He playfully mocked you. 

You squinted your eyes at him” Watch it, Winchester.”

You closed the door and started changing. Sam let out a whistle and you rolled your eyes. He waited until you got dressed then grabbed you pulling you down to straddle him. You twisted your fingers in his hair as you kissed his lips. His arms wrapped tightly around you as he laid his head on your shoulder. Your arms hugged around his neck. 

“So what's on the agenda for today?” 

“Well, Dean and Crowley are going to confront death and the rest of us will stop this pharm company.” He explained the virus outbreak and the vaccines. 

“And we trust Crowley now?!”

“I don’t think we have a choice. Plus he seems to want Lucifer back in the cage as much as we do.”

. “I guess. So when are we leaving?”

“Tonight.”

“Alright. We should get everything ready.” 

“Yeah probably.” he agreed but neither of you let go. 

“Sam.” 

“Yeah, Yeah,” he sighed as he squeezed you and then loosened his arms. You stood up and bent back down giving him a quick kiss making him smile. 

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As you tossed the last bag in your truck Dean shut the Impala trunk. “Alright, well good luck stopping the zombie apocalypse,” he said 

“Yeah, Good luck killing death,” Sam replied. You could see the worry in their eyes. Sam chuckled. “Do you remember when we used to just hunt Wendigos? Back when everything was simple?”

“Ha. Not really.” Dean smiled. 

“Yeah, well you might need this,” Sam said holding out the demon blade to Dean. 

“Actually, Dean is covered,” Crowley said popping out of thin air. Holding out a scythe to Dean. “Deaths own, known to kill demons, angels, reapers, and rumored to kill the very thing itself. 

“Where did you get that?” Cas asked 

“I'm the king of the crossroads. Remember?” Crowley smiled.  “Bobby you just going to sit there?”

“No, I’m gonna river dance?!” Bobby sneered. 

“Oh, Bobby. You really wasted that deal. ” everyone looked at Crowley confused. “You get more if you phrase it properly,” he explained how he added a tiny sub-a clause for Bobby. “So, just gonna sit there?”

Bobby moved his feet. Everyone looked at him in disbelief. Then he stands up. “ Son of a bitch!” he remarks. Everyone smiled at him. 

“Yes, completely worth your soul. I know I’m a hell of a guy.” Crowley smiled.

“Thanks,” Bobby said truly meaning it. 

“Yes, can we go?” Crowley asked walking to the passenger side of the Impala.

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As Bobby drove, Sam sat next to you explaining his plan to Cas.

“That's an interesting plan,” Castiel said after thinking about it for a second. 

“That's a word for it.” Bobby scoffed. 

“Not the one I would use.” You said. Sam put his hand on your thigh for comfort.

“Go ahead Cas. Tell me it's the worst plan you've ever heard,” he said playfully squeezing your leg. 

“Well I could, but that’s not what I think,” Cas said. 

“Really?!” you and Sam said at the same time. 

“ You and Dean have exceeded my expectations time and time again, he resisted Michael maybe you could beat Lucifer,” Cas explained. “However since Adam said yes, if you say yes, then fail. The fight will happen, and the collateral will be immense.”

You felt Sam’s body stiffen beside you. You grabbed Sam’s hand and placed it in your lap lacing your fingers together. 

“And then there’s the demon blood,” Cas said.

“Wait what are you talking about?!” You asked

“ To take on Lucifer, Sam would have to consume more than he ever has. It strengthens the vessel. Keeps it from exploding.” Cas explained. 

“But the guy he's in now…” Sam started. 

“Is drinking gallons.” Castiel cut him off.

“No fucking way!” you said. 

“Yeah. How is this not the worst plan you've ever heard?” Bobby looked at Castiel. 

Sam’s jaw tightened and you could see in his face how difficult this was for him. Taking his hand out of yours he placed his face in his palms.  “Sam..”

“Let's just get this done and we can all argue when we get back to Bobby’s. Okay?” Sam cut you off in a harsh tone, you turned and looked out your window blinking back tears. 

The rest of the ride was complete silence. 

You guys finally reached Niveus Pharmaceuticals and staked out the place for a bit. 4 yellow semi trucks were being loaded on a truck dock. While observing  Bobby went over the plan. “ they are loading the hot shots now. The first truck doesn't leave for an hour. We get in plant the c-4 then pull the fire alarm.”

“Um, that truck is leaving.” Castiel points. 

“Balls! Ok, new plan.”

Cas runs to the escaping truck. As the driver tries to slide his key card to unlock the gate Castiel knocks him out causing his head to land on the horn. The demons on the dock all look up. 

“It’s the Winchesters.” one of them said as he started pulling down and locking the doors.

“Well then let’s cook up something for them,” the other demon said ripping into a box of vaccines.   You, Sam, and Bobby run to the dock doors, but you are too late.

“Side door!” Bobby yells. As you approach the side door you can hear people inside banging on the door and yelling for help. 

“Get Back” you yell and you shoot the lock on the door. The people ran out frightened. The 3 of you walk in guns drawn.  You hear grunting and some thumping. You and Sam look to Bobby. He slides the backpack of explosives off his shoulders and Sam does the same. Bobby signals you guys to follow him. You round a corner of shelves to find 6 humans infected with the Croatoan virus ripping a guy to shreds. 6 pairs of red eyes turn to you. You cock your cocks at the same time. You guys manage to take them all out before they reach you.

“HELP ME!!” a woman nearby screams. 

“There's still people in here,” Sam says as he starts to walk in the direction of the screams. 

“Sam wait,” you said 

“Take this and stay here.” He says handing you the demon blade. 

“Damnit,” you said as you took the blade.  Sam continues into the warehouse aiming his shotgun. 

Bobby turns to face you. “(y/n) behind you.”

You turn around and there’s a demon. You stab him in his side with the blade killing him. 

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“Hey, do you think we can stop for pizza?” Crowley asked Dean as they walked up to an abandoned building. 

“Are you kidding?!” 

“Just heard it was good.” He pointed at the barn ahead. “He’s in there.”

“How do you know?”

“Have you met me? I know. Plus the block is squirming with reapers.” Crowley said as he looked around. “I’ll be right back.” and Crowley disappeared.  

Two seconds later he reappeared. “Boy, is my face red. He's not in there.”

“You wana cut the bullshit and tell me where he is?” Dean snapped

“Sorry, I'm not sure. We can catch him in the next doomed city.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Bobby sold his soul for this?”

“Don't worry there’s a return policy.” Crowley ensured him. 

“Millions crowley! Millions of people are going to die any minute now.” Dean yelled.

“Yeah, so I suggest we get out of here!” Crowley said as he walked away. 

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Back at the pharm warehouse, you started to get anxious. You began to walk in the direction Sam went. 

“(y/n) He will be fine. “

“Bobby,” you were cut off by the sounds of gunshots. You took off  in his direction, but stopped when you saw Sam bringing  victims around the corner, 

“Help them,” Sam said to you. You drew your gun and escorted them to the door. 

“All clear” Sam concluded. 

You looked to the left and saw an infected worker charging for Sam.  “Sam watch out!” but you were too late. You started running toward them. The worker jumped on Sam causing him to fall on his back. The worker was on top of Sam choking him full force. Bobby raised his gun, but it was empty. You slid and put the end of your sawed-off shotgun barrel on the worker's forehead and pulled the trigger. Blood went everywhere. Sam started gasping for air.  You laid your arms and head down with a sigh.

“You good?” you asked Sam. 

“Yeah, “ He got out once he caught his breath.

“Good, Can we  commit our act of domestic terrorism now?” Bobby asked starting to walk toward the backpacks you laid down earlier. 

Sam got up and put his hand out offering to help you up. You took it, and you were on your feet so fast it made your head spin a little.  “Let's go,” he said. 

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Dean made his way back to the Impala. Crowley was already sitting in the passenger seat. Dean got in the driver's seat. “So what?” he said with a groan. “ Bomb threats? How the hell do I get 3 million people out of Chicago in the next 10 minutes?” He looked over to Crowley for advice, but he was gone.  Dean looked around. “Fuck!” Dean snapped then looked across the street.  Crowley was pointing in a pizzeria mouthing “I found him” 

“What? I can't hear you.” Dean said aloud and threw up his hands. 

“I said I found him,” Crowley said as he popped back into the passenger seat making Dean jump. “ He is in there.” Crowley pointed again.

Dean got out. “You coming..” he said as he turned around, Crowley was gone again, “ I guess not.”  He made his way over to the pizzeria. Cautiously and Quietly Dean walked through the front door.  There was a waitress behind the bar sitting on the floor, dead. Two men sitting at a table both of their faces in a half-eaten pizza, dead.  A younger waitress lying on the floor in the middle of the room, dead. Dean shook his head but kept going. He entered the next room. More Dead bodies sprawled out on the floor. He looked up to a man sitting at a table looking out the window. Sythe in hand Dean crept toward the man. The sythe got hotter the closer he got. As he dropped it on the floor he could feel the blister from the burn forming. There was a loud clanking sound as it hit the ground. 

“Thanks for returning that,” the man said.  Dean looked up at him. The man just stared out the window, Dean looked back down to find the Sythe had disappeared, “Join me, Dean.” Dean looked back up at the man. It was now sitting on the table beside the man’s plate. “The pizza is delicious!” Dean still cautious walked over. 

The man was cutting up a piece of pizza. Not looking up from his plate “ Sit down. I think we need to have a chat.”

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Somehow you got Bobby to let you drive back to his house. It was nice having to focus on the road rather than all the apocalypse shit that was going on. It was still too quiet though. You turned the radio on and popped in a mixed CD. Johnny Cash started playing. You turned the volume up a little. You peeked in the backseat to see if you woke Bobby or Cas.

“I fell into a burning ring of fire. I went down. Down. Down. And the flames went higher.

You looked over at Sam. He was looking at you with wide eyes. “ Oh my god. I’m sorry, I didn't even think about it when it started playing. “ your cheeks got hot. 

“ I was wondering how long it was gonna take.” he chuckled.  

As you hit the next button on the CD player you hit a bump causing your finger to hit the button a couple of times. Highway to hell by AC/DC started playing. “Shit!” you quickly turned the radio off. “We don't need music.”

Sam chuckled and it made you smile.  “But you hate driving without music.” He turned the radio back on and skipped the song. Changes By Tupac started playing and your head started bobbing. He hit the skip button again. 

“Hey,” you said 

Misunderstanding by Genesis started to play.  “ You know your music taste is baffling,” he said smiling. 

“Not baffling. It’s diverse.”

He chuckled. “ Whatever you say, princess.” you smiled. 

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“He just gave it to you?!”  you yelled from under your truck as you put the oil drain plug back in its hole. You slid out from under the truck and stood up, wiping the oil off your hands with a rag.  You walked over to the table Dean was sitting at. All 4 rings were lying in front of him. 

Dean held a beer out for you. “ With one condition,” he said. You took the beer and opened it. He took a drink of his. 

“ Well spit it out.” you took a drink.

“ Sam says yes and puts Lucifer back in the cage.”

“Oh. Of course.” 

You guys turned as you heard something slide across the floor by the garage door.

“Bobby,” Dean said. “How’d it go at the Rockette’s audition?”

Bobby laughed. “Kicks were too low. Maybe next year.” You and Dean smiled. “I've been just walking up and down the stairs for no damn reason. I’m kinda sore.” he laughed and sat across the table from Dean. 

“Watch this,” Dean said as he put the rings in a particular order. 1 in the middle the other 3 circled it. He slid the one closest to him up toward the 1 in the middle and the other 2 rings moved automatically toward the center. 

“So, Death told you how to operate them? The whole deal?” Bobby asked. 

“Yeah. It’s freaking crazy.” Dean took a drink “ I have a bigger problem now though.”

“Like?” Bobby asked. You walked back over to your truck and started pouring oil into it. 

“What do you think would happen if someone lied To Death's face?”

“Probably nothing good. What did you tell him?”

“That I wouldn't stand in the way of Sam jumping in the pit.”

“So Death thinks Sam should say yes?”

“He said Sam was the only human that stood a chance against Lucifer.”

“Well you didn't tell me that part,” you said as you threw the empty oil jug in the trash can and walked back over to the table. 

“Of course, he would say that. He works for Lucifer.”

“Against his Will.” You shot back

“Well, we should probably take his word with a big fat grain of fucking salt. I mean he is Death.”

“Exactly he is death.” You said 

“Think of the bird's eye view” Bobby chimed in and you nodded. 

“Seriously?” Dean was getting irritated, 

“I'm just sayin,” Bobby said holding up his hand. 

“Well don’t!” 

“Look.  I know Sam has some flaws, but…” Bobby paused, 

“But?” Dean asked. 

“Back at Niveus. I watched that kid pull one civilian out after another, He must have saved over 10 people. With the help of (y/n),” Bobby nodded at you. “ He never stopped, never slowed down. We’re hard on him, Dean. We always have been. Meanwhile,  He’s been saving people since he was what 12?”

“Pretty much yea,” Dean confirmed.

“Sam has a darkness in him, yes. But he’s got a hell of a lot of good too.” 

“I know that!”

“Then you know Sam will beat the devil or die trying.” Bobby looked at you and then back at Dean. “ And that's the best we can ask for. So I gotta ask you two. What exactly are you guys afraid of? Losing? Or losing Sam?”

You walked out of the garage and looked up to find Sam sitting on the hood of the Impala. You started walking toward him. You knew everything Bobby said was true. You knew there was no going back or trying to talk Sam out of this. It was going to happen. All you could do was enjoy the time you had left. 

“Heeeeyy, You come here often big boy?” you said in a cheesy voice.

He smiled. “Only when you're here hot stuff.” you smiled “Want a beer?” you shook your head.

You took a deep breath. “Look I know I've been a pain in the ass about the whole Lucifer, Cage thing and I’m sorry. I know how hard this has been on you. My attitude and fighting haven't made it any better.”

“I get it. Trust me” He sighed “I let him out (y/n). All the shit that's happened, it’s on me. I have to make this right and put him back in the cage before more people die.”

“Ok.”

“OK?” he raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. I understand and I’m not gonna fight it anymore. Even though I fucking hate it with every ounce of my soul.”

“I know. I really am sorry I probably shouldn’t have called and let this all happen. I feel like I led you on in a way.”

“Well, you didn’t and I’m glad you called. I would of rather it have gone like this than never knowing how you felt,” you confessed.

He grabbed you and pulled you over to him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck. He rested his forehead against yours.

“(y/n) can you promise me something?” he whispered. 

“Maybe.”

“If I do this. If I win and jump into the cage..” He paused “You and Dean can't try to bring me back.”

“Excuse me?”

“Seriously Babe. What if you start rattling the cage and you let him out again?”

“Sam, I can't just let you rot in a cage with the devil for eternity.”

“You can’t risk it.” your jaw tightened. Damn it, He was right. 

“Please?”

“Fine.”

You heard Dean clear his throat behind you” Get a room.”

Sam laughed. 

“Heya (y/n) can I get a minute with Sam?” 

“Yep.” you gave Sam a peck on the cheek then bent down grabbed a beer and walked away. 

“Hey!” both Winchesters said at the same time. You looked back and stuck your tongue out at them. 

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You pulled up to the abandoned warehouse and saw Bobby standing at the back of his van looking at newspapers. You parked your truck and walked over to him. 

“Hey kiddo, How you holdin' up?”

“Bout the same. Anything good?” 

“Couple things that stood out.” you both turned as you heard the warehouse doors open. Your stomach went queasy when you saw Sam and Castiel holding gallon jugs of blood. Sam’s eyes met yours and he hesitated at the steps. Dean walked up behind him. Sam lowered his head and continued to the Impala. You looked back at the papers Bobby was holding. Dean walked over to you and Bobby. 

“Bobby I just can’t get used to you at eye level.” Bobby gave him a smirk. “(y/n) how ya doin' sweetheart?”

“Just peachy,” you said in a sarcastic tone. 

Dean sighed, “Yeah. You don’t have…” 

“Save it, Dean. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.”

He nodded and then looked at Bobby. “Well, Yoda you were right. 2 stunt demons in there just like you said.”

“Did you get it?” Bobby asked. 

“Yeah. All the go juice Sammy can drink. “Dean replied. Your stomach turned again. 

“You ok?” you asked Dean. 

“Not really. Did you guys find anything?”

“Do these look like omens to you?” Bobby handed Dean the papers as he read the headlines out loud. “Cyclone in Florida, Temperature drop in Detriot, Wildfires in L.A…”

“Wait, Detriot?” you asked as Dean and you looked at each other and then back at Bobby. 

Bobby’s eyebrows furrowed. “ the temps dropped about 20 degrees, but only in a 5-block radius of downtown Motown.”

“That's the one.” Dean tossed the newspapers in the back of Bobby’s van. “He’s in Detriot.”

“You sure?” Bobby asked.

“Yeah. He’s sure.” you chimed in. You looked over at Sam. The sadness on his face made your stomach twist. You looked back at Bobby. “Van or truck?”

“You think your truck will be okay here?” 

“Should be. If not I know a guy that has a scrap yard. I’ll just fix another one up.” They both smiled. “ I just gotta grab my stuff.” and turned to walk back to your truck. 

You opened the back seat and leaned in to grab your duffle. You felt Sam behind you. “ you know you shouldn’t sneak up on a hunter.” he stayed silent. “Sammy, you ok?” you asked as you turned around and your heart broke. He stood there with his hands in his jacket pockets. Lips drawn in a tight line. His eyebrows pulled up and together. His eyes were so full tears were almost spilling out. You wrapped your arms around him as tight as you could. His arms wrapped around your shoulders.

“ you sure about this?” you asked.

“Yes. I have to.”

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The ride with Bobby was silent. Neither of you wanted to talk about what happened next. 

Both cars parked in an alley across the street from a building in the middle of the temperature-dropped zone. You and Bobby found Lucifer’s hiding place. A dingy dirt dirt-covered white two-story house. 

“We found it. At least 2 dozen demons on guard.” he pointed in the direction. “ Our guess is he’s in there. 

“Alright then, (y/n) Give me a hand would ya?” Dean said as he nodded to the back of the Impala. You followed Dean. He popped the trunk. Your stomach twisted again at the sight of the jugs.

“So on the way here, Sam made me promise something. “ Dean confessed so low you could barely hear him.

“I know he made me promise too.” 

“So you’re getting out?” He asked surprised. 

“ Uh no. I never agreed to that. I just promised I wouldn’t rattle the cage.” 

“Hmm, He told me to go find Lisa and settle down. Live an apple-pie life.” 

Dean was looking over the lifted drunk. He looked down blinking back tears. You peeked around Bobby and Sam were hugging. You felt a sting in your chest. You were not ready for this. 

“Dean, you deserve to be happy. If  Lisa and Ben are that for you then you should go. No one is going to judge you for getting out. And if they do fuck ‘em!” 

He smiled. “Thank you. And what about you?”

Sam walked over to Castiel with his hand out. 

“I don’t know,” you said blinking back tears. Happiness for you was out of the question and you knew it. Dean rubbed your shoulder. 

Sam looked over at you and started walking towards you. Dean patted your shoulder and then walked away. 

“Hey there hot stuff, you come here often?” He said as he approached you. 

You smiled “Only when you’re here, Big boy.” You said with tears sliding down your cheeks. 

He grabbed you and pulled you into his arms. Your arm wrapped around him as you laid your head against his head. You could feel his heart pounding. You inhaled his vanilla and cedar scent for the last time. He lifted your chin with his fingers and wiped away your tears. He brought his lips to your ear. “I love you, always have, always will.” He whispered. And then his lips were on yours, the kiss was quick and sweet, but you could feel through his soft lips meant every word. 

“I love you too Sam.”

He squeezed you one last time. “Do you mind not watching this, (y/n)?” He said as he loosened his hold and put his hands on your cheeks. You nodded as a few tears ran down your cheeks. Sam wiped them away and kissed your forehead. You turned and started walking over to where everyone else was. You wiped your eyes trying to stop crying. 

“You okay?” Dean Asked. 

“No. you?”

“No.” 

No one could say or do anything to make you feel better, the four of you just stood there in silence. Sam slammed the trunk when he finished. He was all jacked up.  “Let’s go!” The blood smeared on his lips brought your nausea back. You started to walk with Sam and Dean, all four men yelled “NO!” and Castiel grabbed your arm.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Please?” Sam pleaded. 

You nod and watch him walk away. Castiel wrapped his arm around you and you leaned your head on his shoulder. 

“Alright we’re here, you sons of bitches, come get it.” you heard Sam yell when they got to the sidewalk.  Two demons walked out the door and grabbed the boys shoving them through the door. You started to take a step.

“(y/n)” Castiel said. Tightening his arm. You didn’t fight him. 

After the longest 3 minutes of your life, you see a flash of bright light explode out of the second-story windows. Then all of a sudden the wind kicked up and you knew Dean had opened the cage. 

The wind stopped within 10 seconds. Was he gone? Like really gone? There was no breakdown into tears, no giant hole feeling in your chest like you thought there would be. Sure you were sad and you knew something had changed, but he didn't feel gone. 

A couple of minutes later Dean came walking out of the house. He kept his head down until he made it to your side of the street. When he looked you in the eyes you saw the extra wetness in his. 

“Well?” Bobby asked when Dean reached you guys.

Dean explained everything that happened. How Lucifer had already known about the rings, How Sam and Lucifer had a battle in Sam’s head, How Lucifer had taken over his body, took the rings, and disappeared. “ I tried to talk him out of it in the last few seconds.”

“Dean.” you tried to tell him it wasn't his fault. 

“I know” He cut you off.  Just then you heard a big commotion coming from down the street you four all looked at each other and headed in that direction.  There was an electronic store with T.V.s in the front window. The banner across the bottom of them said breaking news. 

Reporter: Reports are flooding in a 7.6 earthquake in Portland, 8.1 in Boston, and more in Hong Kong, Berlin, And Tehran. The U.S.G.S. has no explanation but says to expect a six-figure death toll. 

“It’s starting,” Castiel said. 

“You think Genuis?” Dean said sarcastically 

“Dean, you don't have to be an ass.” You chimed in. 

“Sorry,” he said to Cas. “So what do we do now?”

“I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol and wait for the inevitable blast wave.” 

“Well, thank you, Bukowski..” 

“Dean stop.” You were over his attitude. “How do we stop it Cas?”

“We can’t…” Castiel said with a grim look on his face. “Lucifer will meet Michael on the chosen field. And the battle of Armageddon will begin.” 

“Ok, Where’s this chosen field?” Dean asked in a nicer tone. 

“I don’t know” 

“There’s gotta be something we can do,” Dean argued. 

“I’m sorry, Dean, It's over,” Castiel said with glossy eyes. 

“Castiel, We are not giving up!” Bobby walked up beside Dean.”Right, Bobby?” Bobby stood there in a daze. “Bobby?” Dean raised his voice a little. 

“There wasn’t much hope to begin with,” Bobby said shaking his head. “ I don’t know what else to do.”

“Fucking ridiculous” Dean growled and started walking back to the car. The rest of you followed him.

“Hey Cas, Do you mind riding back with Bobby? I need to talk to Dean,” you asked when you got back to the alley.

“Sure,” he said and walked over to Bobby’s van.” 

“ So what do you need to talk about?” Dean asked when after you guys got in. 

“Do you still have Chuck’s number?” 

Dean’s face lit up as he smiled. “ I knew you wouldn’t give up.” He pulled out his phone and searched in his contacts. He hit the green button and put the phone up to his ear. 

“Um, no, Chuck?”  “Who’s Mistress Magda?”  “Yeah, I’ll bet real close. What happened to Becky?” “Boy, you got a whole virgin/hooker thing going on don’t you?” Oh come on Dean you thought. “Sam said yes.” “Did you see where the fight is going down?” Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, “Fuck.”  “Stull Cemtary, wait I know that, It's right outside of Lawrence. Why Lawrence?” “Alright, Do you know of any way to short-circuit this thing?” “Did you see what going to happen next?” “Alright, thanks, Chuck.” He hit the red button. 

“Tomorrow. Noon. You feel like a road trip to Kanas?”

“I'm in. Let me grab my guns.” you went to Bobby’s van to grab your things. You made it back over to the Impala before Bobby and Cas stopped you and Dean.

“You two going someplace?” Bobby yelled as he walked over. “ ya’ll are gonna do somethin’ stupid huh?”

“We are going to talk to Sam.”

“You just don’t give up.” Bobby looked at Dean then you. 

“Bobby, It’s Sam.” You said. 

“ If you couldn’t reach him here,” Castiel chimed in “you're certainly not gonna be able to on the battlefield.”

“Maybe not, But she might be able to. She and I together might do it. And if we have already lost, we don’t  have anything to lose right?”

“I just want both of you to understand. All you are going to see out there is Michael killing Sam.”

“Well then, we aren’t going to let him die alone,” Dean said as he looked at you. You nodded in agreement. You both got in the car and drove off. 

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Dean stopped the car right outside the entrance to the old run-down graveyard. You could see Sam and Adam talking ahead in the distance. 

“You ready?” Dean said pushing a tape in the cassette player. 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

He revved the engine a few times, hit play on the radio, and turned the volume up.

Gunter, Gliben, Glaunchen, Globen come through the speakers as he drives down to his brothers. You and Dean get out of the car. 

“Howdy boys, are we interrupting something?” He says as he closes the door. He motions for you to stay back and he walks closer to Sam. “We need to talk.”

“Dean, even for you this is a whole new level of stupid,” Lucifer said

“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Sam.”   “You’re no longer the vessel Dean, you got no right to be here.” Adam cut in

“Adam. If you're in there somewhere I am so sorry.” 

“Adam isn’t here right now.” 

“Well, then you’re next on my list buttercup. Right now I want 5 minutes with him.”

“You little maggot, you are no longer part of this story,” Adam said approaching Dean. You started walking in their direction. 

“Hey ass-but.” you heard Castiel. You looked up to see him and Bobby stand there. Just then Castiel threw a bottle at Adam. Adam caught on fire letting out an eye-piercing scream then vanished. 

“Ass-butt?” Dean asked Cas. 

“He’ll be back and angry, but you got your 5 minutes.”

“Castiel,” Sam said. “Did you just molotov my brother with holy fire?”

Cas raised his hands backing away “Uh no.” 

“No one dicks with Michael, but me!” He snapped his fingers and Castiel exploded spraying pink mist all over Bobby. 

“NO!” you yelled. And Lucifer spun in your direction. 

“Sammy, can you hear me?” Dean asked. 

Lucifer turned to him. “You know, I've tried to be nice.”He walked up to Dean. “For Sammy’s sake, but you are such a pain.” he grabbed Dean by the opening of his jacket. “In my ass.” Lucifer threw Dean into the windshield of the Impala and started back at him. You and Bobby both pulled your guns out and shot at the same time. Lucifer looked at you then turned halfway to Bobby. He looked back at you. He raised both hands and twisted them.  Breaking yours and Bobby’s neck at the same time. Dean looked back and forth between you two as your lifeless bodies dropped to the ground. 

“NOOO!!” Dean yelled. 

“Yes,” Lucifer said grabbing Dean’s ankle and pulling him off the Impala. Punching Dean so hard he busted his lip open. Dean fell onto the Impala. He stood back up, spitting the blood out of his mouth. 

“Sammy, are you in there?”

“Oh, he’s in here alright,” Lucifer said taking another swing at Dean’s face. He fell back down onto the Impala.” and he’s gonna feel me snap all of your bones.” Lucifer landed another punch. This time knocking Dean to the ground. “Every single one.” Lucifer picked Dean up and propped him up against the Impala. Punch, punch, punch punch. After about 12 blows Lucifer stopped. Dean’s face was swollen and bloody.

“Sammy. It’s ok. I'm here.” Dean managed to say. “I'm not going to leave you.” Lucifer punched again. And again. And again. “I'm not gonna leave you.” Dean's voice was muffled from all the swelling and a couple of busted teeth. 

As Lucifer drew his fist back the glare of the window caught his eye. Sam was fighting hard. And then looked down at the army man stuck in the back ashtray. This is what Sammy needed to fuel his fight. He thought of all the good memories he and his brother shared in this car. Shoving the army man in the ashtray while Dean shoved legos in the front vent, carving their initials by the speaker in the rear dash. He thought about all the pranks and road trip sing a longs they had. The time he scared the grab out of Dean who was sleeping in the passenger seat. Dean making him dinner when they were kids. Dean sacrificing his life for Sam’s. He lowered his fist and let go of Dean. Dean fell to the ground. One eye was swollen shut and a broken swollen jaw, and his face was covered in blood. He was almost unrecognizable.

“It’s ok, Dean.” Sam had taken over his body. “It's gonna be ok. I've got him.” he reached into his pocket, grabbed the rings, and tossed them on the ground. “ Bvtmon, Tabges, Babalon.” The ground rumbled and a sinkhole opened. The wind started whipping and the thunder roared loud. 

“Sam, It can’t end this way. I have to fight my brother. You need to step back.” Adam was back. 

“You're gonna have to make me,” Sam yelled He took one last look at Dean, put his arms out, and started to fall. Adam rushed over and grabbed him. But it was too late. They both fell into the pit. With a big flash, the pit closed. The rings lay on the ground where Sam had tossed them. Dean crawled over and just held them. As he started weeping he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and there stood Castiel. 

“Cas, you’re alive?” 

“I'm better than that.” He touched Dean’s forehead and healed him. 

“Cas, Are you god?” Deam asked getting to his feet. 

“That's a nice compliment.” Castiel smiled. “But no. although I believe he did bring me back, New and improved.” He walked over to Bobby and touched his temple. Bobby came back to life. Bobby sat up and Cas nodded at him. He looked back at Dean, who was pointing at you. “I know.” Dean got up and followed Cas over to your body. Castiel bent down and put his fingers on your temple. 

You woke. You sat up and looked around. Sam was gone, really gone. Your heartbeat started to race, your hands began to shake, and You started panting for air as your chest tightened. Dean plopped down beside you pulling you into a bear hug.

“Shhh. Deep Breath (y/n).” Dean said in a calming voice. But the tears were coming and you couldn't stop them. You started bawling into Dean’s Chest. 

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You were sort of relieved when you got back to your truck. The whole ride here with Dean had been silent. You grabbed your stuff out of his backseat and threw it in yours. Dean and Bobby were standing by the tailgate. 

“Well..” Dean said. 

“That’s a deep subject,” Bobby remarked. You shook your head and smiled.  “What’s next for you (y/n)?” Dean asked you.

“Not sure,” 

“What about you?” Bobby asked Dean.

“I made a promise,” Dean said walking over to hug you. “If you need anything, and I mean anything.”

“I know Dean,” you said as you hugged him back.

He walked over to Bobby. “You have my number too,” Dean said as he hugged Bobby. “ Keep her outta trouble, will ya?” 

“I do.” Bobby smiled. “I can try, but I'm only one man.” Dean chuckled. Bobby looked at you. “You coming back to the house?”

“Eventually.” you needed some space right now. 

“Just be careful,” Bobby said as he hugged you. 

“Always.” you squeezed back. 

Everyone walked to the driver doors of their vehicles. You waved at them then hopped in your truck. 

The three of you drove off in different directions.

[moonferry]

rocking back and forth.. guys i have such a vision im literally frothing at the mouth as i write this. heres a snippet of the newest sam fic im working on . in this screenie, he's six years old & kent has just been called back to war.

update full fic HERE

im literally so excited to dive into his emotional intelligence and paternal trauma . ill probably share it when i finish but OOOH u are not ready for what i have planned. i have plans that i cannot share rn bc the haters will sabotage me.

[woodle-isbae]

Hey I was wondering if you'd do a virgin reader with Sam or Colby

First request ever please

"Y'sure?"

"Yes , yes I'm sure Sam."

"I've prepped you enough , but I can't guarantee it won't hurt a bit"

"I trust you..I'll tell you when you can start moving."

He began kissing down your jaw , slowly pushing himself inside you , giving you some time to adjust.

"S-sam..you can move"

"I'll start slowly"

He started of at a moderate pace , thrusting slowly and allowing you to get used to the feeling. You began clawing at his back , begging for more , and who was he to deny you that?

His thrusts faster and harder , faint moans leaving his pink lips , his hand fondling at your breast and the other gripping onto your hip

"Ah- sam , I think im gonna-"

Shushing your words with a deep kiss , slowing down his strokes and making them deeper , his groans turning into grunts as he was trying to catch up to your orgasm

"You can - shit - you can cum , you got this."

Stumbling over his words as his own orgasm washed over , growing sensitive as you clenched against him.

After catching his breath he got off you and went to get a warm towel and some water , taking care of you

"How was it?"

"It was...amazing"

[sams-sass]

Date Night

Hi there!! This is just a fun little fic about the boys taking you on a first date. You get double trouble on this one!! I hope you enjoy!!!!

Pairings: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader

Warning: Kissing, implied smut, date night, flirting, swoon worthy Winchesters. 

Sam

Your hands fell to your sides, letting your hair tumble to its normal state, and an exasperated grunt left your mouth. You bit your lip and ran your fingers through your hair again. 

"I don't know!" You whispered to yourself. "I guess I could, like, pin the sides..." You mumbled, confusion and frustration evident in your voice.

"Hey, Y/N-" Dean said, opening your door and entering your room. 

"Dean! What the hell, man?!" You shouted, your hands flying to your body. 

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, ignoring your outburst. He looked you over, his face wrinkling in confusion. You stood in your socks, underwear, and tank top. Several dresses, still on their hangers, were piled on your neck. Makeup, hair tools, and nail polish were scattered across your desk. More clothes were thrown onto your bed. Shoes were everywhere. 

"Knock much?! Damn!" You shouted at him again, disregarding his question. You placed your hands on your hips and leaned to the side. The motion made the hangers rattle comically together on your neck. 

"Going somewhere?" Dean asked. A cocky grin crossed his face as he leaned against the door frame, his arms folding on one another. 

"Shove off, Dean. I am trying to get ready." You explained, instantly regretting your words. 

"Ready? Ready for what?" He asked, and you internally groaned. You let out a large breath and let your shoulders drop dramatically. 

"If you must know...I have a date." You said, trying to keep all emotion out of your voice. 

"A date?!" Dean's eyebrows shot up, his eyes growing wide. "A date with who?" 

"Sam." You mumble whispered, your lips barely parting. 

"What?" Dean asked, his head leaning forward as his brow furrowed. 

"Sam." You said slightly louder but not any more clear. 

"Y/N." You watched as Dean's face moved from confusion to "I'm done with this." 

"Oh my god, alright! Sam! Ok! Sam! Your brother and I are going on a date."  You exclaimed, your hands flying around. 

"Wha-" Dean started, his face dropping in disbelief. A small laugh left his mouth. 

"You and Sam? Sam and you? You two? Together?" He rambled, his index finger pointing between you and the air beside you. 

"Get out! I have to decide what to wear." You returned to the pile of clothes on your bed and began rummaging through everything again. 

"Can I help?" Dean practically jumped in excitement. He quickly walked over to you, looking at the clothes next to you. 

"What? Ew! No! Go away!" You shoved him playfully, a giggle falling from your lips despite your best effort. Dean leaned back, swatting your hands away. You landed another punch to his arm, and Dean held up his hands in mock surrender. A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. 

"Aw, come on, Y/N/N!!" He groaned, using your nickname against you. 

"Fine." You snapped. You picked out your two favorite outfits and lay them next to each other. You turned to face him, tilting your head to the side. 

"Which one will make your baby brother want to make me scream his name in pleasure until the early morning hours?" You asked, a confident smirk settling on your lips. Dean's smile dropped, his face going pale. His nostrils flared, and his features pulled into those of disgust. 

"Oh, what the hell? I thought we were having fun. And then you gotta go and ruin my whole year like that? I don't think I will ever recover from this. I am grossed out." He closed his eyes and shook his head. 

"So...the red one?" You asked, trying to control your laughter. Dean looked at you, his face stern and impassive. His eyes held yours for a beat. 

"Yeah. The red one." He mumbled before turning to leave your room. 

"Thank you!" You called—an arrogant cheer in your voice. 

"I need a drink," Dean said before closing your door behind him. 

You pulled the stack of hangers off your neck and turned to grab the red silk top and black jeans. It was simple, but it gave you confidence which you desperately needed right now. The silk fell over your body, landing at the waistband of your jeans. The shirt wasn't tight-fitting, but it wasn't loose, either. It hugged your body in all the right places and allowed for some wiggle room when needed. Spaghetti straps led to an open back that stopped right at the curve of your spine. You smoothed your hands over the fabric and bit your lip. Nerves wrecked your entire body. You could play it cocky with Dean, but the truth was- you were absolutely terrified. 

You couldn't believe this was happening. A date. With Sam. You closed your eyes and thought of all the missed moments. All the stolen glances that seemed to go on for hours. All the almost touches. All the yearning and aching in the dark hours, hands fisting the cold sheets next to you. You were finally living the night you had planned in your head so many times. Tonight was the first time you could allow yourself to fall into all things Sam. 

A smile grew on your lips just thinking about that fateful conversation. 

Last night

You sat curled over a book in the library. You were so focused on reading that you didn't hear Sam's footsteps in the room. 

"Hey." He greeted you softly so as not to startle you. You lifted your head, your eyes finding his. 

"Hey." You replied back. 

"What are you reading?" He asked, sitting down across from you. 

"Myths about the sky, constellations, and stars." You read from the front cover. 

"Oh! I recently read that. Very interesting." He said, crossing his arms on the table. 

"It is! I didn't know there were so many myths and stories about the stars from all over the world." You closed the book to give Sam your undivided attention. 

"Yeah, I didn't either." Sam suddenly looked nervous. He scratched the back of his neck, looking over his shoulder for something. 

"Hey, um. How far are you in the book?" He asked, turning back to look at you. 

"Not far at all, I just started. Why?" You tilted your head in question. 

"I thought...Since I have already read it, I could teach you. I could teach you what I know." Sam stumbled over his words. 

"Teach me?" You asked. Your eyebrows came together on your forehead. 

"Yeah... there's a telescope, and I could show you the stars and tell you their myths." Sam tried to explain himself. 

"Oh. That might be fun, yeah." You said, feeling your face relax in understanding. 

"Ok, so tomorrow night. You, me, and the stars. It's a date." Sam said, standing up. Your eyes grew wide. 

"Ok!" You agreed, not allowing yourself to get hopeful and expecting. Sam smiled at you before walking away. He made it about five steps before he turned around. 

"I don't think I made myself clear," Sam said. His voice sounded authoritative and raw. His pointer finger came up to emphasize his words. 

"Oh." You said, feeling your heart drop into your stomach. He returned to you, placing one hand on the table and the other on your cheek. Your body froze, and your mind stopped. 

"Y/N," Sam said, his voice making you look him in the eye. "Will you go on a date with me?" He asked. He was so close. Hazel eyes stared into yours. His dimples were in full effect. How does one breathe again?

"I would love to." You whispered. 

Now

You couldn't stop the feelings parading through you as you did your makeup and hair how you liked. This was heavy. In a hunter's life, it wasn't just knowing that the other person felt the same. It was the all-encompassing and cumbersome knowledge that, at any moment, the world around you may crumble. Death and pain searched for you. Icy and cold shadows constantly filled your soul with dread. What if they were ripped away from you? What if you let yourself go there? Feel those feelings that you had gotten too good at repressing. What would happen if you lost them? What would become of you if the one person you did all this for was no longer there? 

You paused. Closing your eyes and letting yourself have one more "what if?" What if it all worked out? What if you could have both? A hunter's life and the warm and safe arms of a lover? What would happen if you actually got what you wanted?

You stood and made your way into the library, knowing that's where you would find him. You inhaled and exhaled one full breath before rounding the corner. He stood with his back to you. He wore a red and black flannel with black jeans. His hair looked freshly combed, and you could already smell his aftershave. 

"Hey, Sam." You said softly. 

Sam turned and saw you waiting for him. A red silk top lay across your torso. Black jeans accentuated the curves of your body. You stood with one arm crossed over your middle, your hand wrapped around the opposite forearm. You pinned some of your hair back and graced your face with makeup. But Sam noticed something else. He couldn't look away from the nervous yet excited glow in your eyes. His lips parted, everything he had ever known leaving his mind for a fleeting second of blissful oblivion. 

"Y/N." Your name was the only thing his mind brought to conscious thought. 

At the sound of his husky and weighted voice romanticizing your name, a lovestruck grin blessed your lips. He crossed the room, stopping a few inches in front of you. He took your chin between his index finger and thumb, lifting your face to his. 

"You look beautiful." He whispered for only you to hear. You beamed at him, his thumb moving to run along your jaw. 

"Thank you." You said, swallowing thickly. You lowered your eyes to look at him. A small giggle left your mouth. 

"We match." You said with a breathy laugh. Sam's brow furrowed, his head lowering to look both of you over. His face then fell into an amused chuckle. 

"Red and black. I guess we think alike." He smiled at you. 

"No higher compliment than to think like you, Sam." You said back. Sam smiled, looking away sheepishly. 

"Ready to look at some stars?" He asked. 

"Yeah." You answered with an excited nod. 

Sam took your hand within his and led you outside. The air was soft and calm against your exposed arms. The evening breeze still held onto the last of the day's heat. Its melody played off your and Sam's bodies. Sam's skin warmed you. His large and powerful hand encased yours with tender and gentle care.

"Where are we going?" You asked, leaning against his shoulder. 

"I have a little place set up," Sam said, pointing down the path. "It isn't much farther." 

You walked a little more, listening to the crickets and the sounds of the night. Finally, you arrived at your destination. The path opened to a small field. The wild and swaying grass was framed with trees and bushes. The moon was brilliant. Full and glowing. Its iridescent and ivory splendor bathed everything in its milky radiance. There was no cloud to be seen, the sky an endless black cloak. The stars looked like glitter, hand tossed into the atmosphere by the gods. A creek tumbled playfully over stones and sticks. The water reflected the moonlight back to itself. The world seemed to have created this just for you and Sam. 

"Oh my god, Sam." You said. Your voice was breathy and light as you turned to look at him. "This is amazing." 

"I thought of you as soon as I saw it." He looked into your eyes as he spoke. "I want to share this with you, Y/N. You are the only person I want to be here with." 

"I want to share this with you too, Sam." You agreed, feeling your heart flutter. 

He took your hand again and walked you over to the middle of the field. A blanket lay in the grass, a telescope propped directly in the middle. The book you had been reading sat with colored Post-it notes sticking out from its pages. A few candles decorated one corner of the blanket; their flames danced in the light wind. Settled on the other side of the telescope was your favorite snack and drink, which you didn't think you had ever explicitly told him. 

"Sam..." You started, looking at the attention to detail he minded for your date together. "You did all this for me?" 

"I told you." He said, looking over at you. "There is no one I would rather be here with." Your eyes found his. You watched as his eyes dropped to your lips, a soft breath leaving him. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you. But then, ever in control, Sam smiled at you and turned to pick up the book. 

"Shall we?" He asked, his long fingers turning the pages. 

"We shall." You nodded, walking to stand next to him. Sam stood before the telescope, bending down to peer into it before signaling for you to look. 

"Ok." Sam started. "You are looking at what we call 'the big dipper.' This cluster of stars has different stories all over the world. Almost every culture has lore created about these stars. My personal favorite is from Greek Mythology. Like some of the other cultures, the Greeks saw a bear with a smaller bear beside it. Well, legend has it that the King of Arcadia had a beautiful daughter name Callisto. Zeus spotted her mingling with Artemis and knew he simply had to have her. So, he seduced her and made her one of his many lovers. He tried to keep the affair secret from his wife, Hera, but after Callisto gave birth to Zeuse's son, Hera learned their secret. As punishment, Hera turned Callisto into a bear and banished her to wander the wild woods alone and frightened forever. As time passed, Zeus and Callisto's son, Arcas, grew into a strong and wise hunter. One day he was wandering the woods when he stumbled upon a bear. This bear did not look like the rest; Arcas was confused and scared. His mother, in bear form, recognized her son and began to try to speak to him. Arcas saw the bear grunting and coming toward him. So he raised his spear in self-defense. Zeus intervened, not wanting his son to kill his mother. He changed Arcas into a bear as well so they could live together forever. As a kind of "screw you" to Hera and to protect them from harm, he placed them together among the stars. However, Hera got the last word. She forbade them from ever resting below the earth. And that is why you can never see them set below the horizon like the other constellations." Sam explained the story, his voice even and calm. You straightened your back and turned to face him. You thought he would be reading from the book, but his face was turned toward the sky. He had memorized this. 

"I like that story." You said, giving him a soft smile. 

"Me too." Sam agreed, his kind eyes settling on you. 

"Here, this is one of my favorites," Sam said. His eyes turned to the book as his long index finger flipped to a page with a pink Post-it note. He then grabbed the telescope and pointed it where it needed to go. You peered through at a massive collection of stars. Lines and connections could be drawn within them to make several shapes. A soft breath left your mouth at its beauty. 

"Ok, this one is kind of long." Sam started, clearing his throat. "This is a cluster of constellations depicting one story. The love story of Perseus and Andromeda. Andromeda was the child of King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia. The Queen was very vein and often boasted that her daughter was more beautiful than the sea nymphs. This angered Posiden, so he retaliated by sending a sea beast to their shores. Many tried to conquer the beast, but all failed. Desperate for answers, the King consulted an oracle who suggested he sacrifice his daughter. King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia accepted this fate and sadly put Andromeda in shackles and left her for the beast. Luckily, Perseus was flying by on Pegasus, fresh from killing Medusa. He instantly fell in love with the beautiful and kind Andromeda. He struck a deal with the King and Queen; he would kill the beast if they would allow him their daughter's hand in marriage. They agreed, and Perseus confronted the beast. There is some speculation in the lore, but I prefer the legend that he used the head of Medusa to turn the beast into stone. The remains of which can still be seen off the coast today. The King and Queen kept their word and allowed Perseus to marry their daughter. They married and ventured out to explore Greece together. Perseus is thought to be the ancestor of the Persians. He founded Mycenae, where he made Andromeda his Queen. Perseus and Andromeda had nine children: seven sons and two daughters. Athena promised Andromeda to place her in the sky after her death. And she did. She is placed next to the constellation of Perseus. Making their love truly immortal. Their story is forever written in the stars." Sam was once again looking toward the sky. His face was pensive and soft as he stared into the vast sky before him. 

"I like listening to you." You said, your body melting. 

"I could keep going," Sam said, facing you. 

"How many more you got?" You asked, looking down at the book between his hands. 

"However many more you want. Whatever you ask." He said.

"Tell me a story, Sam." You said, your words were breathy. 

Sam smiled and told you all the epics and myths of the sky. Your mind swirled from the fables and Sam's poetic and lyrical voice illustrating the stories of gods. Of monsters. Of good and evil. Of everlasting love forever illuminated in the sky. Every question you pondered, Sam riddled with you. His knowledge and memory of the legends he guided you through gave you a glimpse of his brilliant mind. His words were profound, with intricacies and endless analysis. You listened to him wax and wane the prophecies set forth by those before you. Heroic battles with swords, shields, and bloodshed. Tears forever imprinted into the stars to heed the warning of history repeating itself. Sam told you tales of chariots and fire burning the milky way into the sky. And of weeping women forced to rotate the earth, watching their mortal lovers below. The stars of Obrian and the seven sisters he loved. 

The tension built between you as Sam grabbed your hand to point directly at a specific star. His body standing behind yours. The buttons on his flannel tickled your bare back, causing a tingle to trace down your spine. You turned and placed your hands on his chest. Silently asking him to not let go. His hands ran down your arms, wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. You took his face between your palms, allowing your fingers to twist into his hair. Swallowing, you tried to calm your heart. 

"I'm scared." You confessed, looking down at the ground. Sam took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling your face to look at his. 

"I am, too," Sam whispered; the raw fragility in his words sent a shiver down your spine. "But I realized that I may be scared of the unknowns, but I am utterly terrified of living the rest of my life without you." 

"Sam..." You breathed. 

"Y/N..." He said back, his voice sounded thick and deep. Your heart sank into your stomach, and if Sam wasn't holding you up, you thought you might fall over. You took in a shuttering breath and bit down on your lip. Could it be? Finding everything you ever wanted under the starry sky? He placed his forehead against yours and bent slightly at the knees. Your mouth opened to his before his lips made contact. He kissed you with the familiarity of a loved blanket and still all the excitement of a newly blossoming flower in springtime. He listened to every breath and gasp that fell from your lungs. His mind committed them to memory as his body followed your every wordless instruction. You fell into him. Finally, closing the door to all your anxieties and fears and letting yourself be consumed by Sam. Just Sam. 

You knew then that your fates were sealed. Under the endless sky of lovers' tales, your burning and aching souls finally wed. 

You didn't realize how long you were with Sam until the sky blushed gold and the stars settled into their slumber. The sun rose over the trees, warming the lands in its gleaming light. As dawn fell over the earth, your heart also basked in the promise of a new day. 

Dean

You held your gun up to your chest, controlling your breathing as best as possible. There was a painful burn in your legs from crouching for so long. Dean was kneeling beside you; his hot breath fanned your neck in the small space. He smelt like whiskey and leather, not helping the sweat already coating your skin.

"I'll go left. You go right." You said, turning your face slightly towards his. He was so close. His angular nose practically touching yours. You swallowed and looked away, waiting for him to answer.

"Ok." He agreed. You went to stand when you felt his hand wrap around your bicep, pulling you toward him.

"Wait!" He said almost too loudly. "If we make it out of here...do you want to, like...do something?" He asked suddenly.

"...what?" You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Ya know...like...i-i-if were good. Do you want to, like...hang?" He tried to clarify himself.

"Hang?" You repeated him. "Dean, we hang out all the time." You furrowed your brow.

"Yes. But I mean just you and me. Together. Do you want to do something together?" He asked. The wheels in your brain stopped turning as you put the pieces together. Oh...

"Dean. Are you seriously asking me out in the middle of a vamp nest?" You were both stunned and annoyed. Dean looked at you, his face neutral and nervous at the same time.

"Yes." He said flatly. You stared at him with an open mouth for a moment.

"Ok...yeah...sure...can you please just kill the vampires?" You asked like a mom negotiating with a child.

"Yes," Dean said again, this time with his usual cocky tone. You held your tongue between your teeth and let out an annoyed breath.

"Good." You said before charging out of your hiding spot.

You don't think you had ever been that efficient. As you left the decaying barn, your machete dripped blood onto the wood floor beneath you. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths. You dramatically wiped the blood off your cheek with your forearm. Sam stood outside, fighting the vamps that had managed to escape. His jacket swung with him as he took on four at a time. You shuffled over and stood beside him, your mind fuzzy and distant.

"He asked me out." You said.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam asked through exhausting breaths. "Help me!"

"Dean asked me out." You said louder. Sam looked genuinely surprised momentarily before his eyes grew wide, and fear crossed his face.

"Duck!" He practically screamed. It was probably your hunter instincts kicking in, but you ducked down just in time for Sam to behead the vamp running right toward you.

"Y/N. I do not have time for this." Sam said, his voice annoyed and short. You turned towards him to tell him to make the time when a vamp lunged at him.

"Holy!" You screamed, your mind and body finally connecting. Your machete swung with precision, taking the head clean off.

"Thanks." He said with a smile.

"You too." You laughed.

"Ok. You have my full attention." Sam said, grabbing you by the shoulders.

"I'm going on a date with Dean." You said, your face breaking into an enamored grin as you slowly realized yourself. A lopsided smirk settled over Sam's lips.

"I'm happy for you." He said sincerely, and you let out a girlish giggle.

You turned left and right in the shitty mirror at the motel. Your face scrunching in apprehension and uncertainty. You had gone shopping, finally allowing yourself some clothes you liked, not just clothes that were easy for killing monsters and riding in a car for days. You smoothed your hands over the creamy corset top you had chosen. Blue flowers decorated the bodice while silk trim outlined your breasts. You spun around again, ensuring nothing was on your jeans, and breathed nervously. You slipped your feet into black combat boots with zippers and buckles that rattled when you walked.

As you styled your hair and makeup, you let your mind wander to Dean. When you first met the boys, there was an attraction to Dean instantly. He was gorgeous. Perfectly angeled and sharp features softened by a smattering of unpredictable freckles. Large eyes that were earthy in color, like moss or sage. How they always found you in the rearview mirror. His hardened expression relaxed at the sight of you. It was a constant burden to not stare back at him. To let your eyes drift from him down to his soft and plump lips. You would sometimes find yourself practically tasting the alcohol left between them as he took a swig from the bottle. Your mind strolled through daydreams about his mouth. Perfectly straight and white teeth, biting down on his bottom lip. His pink tongue tasting you. Letting himself feel all the things he pushed down for one moment of pure fervor and passion.

Yes, you were obviously physically attracted to Dean...and after many nights of Jack Daniels and beer, you might have even told him so once or twice. But it had grown into so much more. There was a softness to Dean that he often tried to deny. His presumptuous and confident outer shell made it easy for you to laugh and joke with him. But his affectionate and sensitive inner core is what caused your heart to stutter.

As you checked yourself one last time, there was a knock on the door. You took a big breath into your lungs and relaxed your shoulders. Now or never. You opened the door and immediately made eye contact with him. Dean's face fell into that of a love-struck teenager. His eyes were wide and alert as his lips parted. His sharp features eased, his entire body open and vulnerable to you.

"Y/N...I..." His husky voice breathed your name. He took a step toward you, cupping your cheek with his palm. "You look beautiful." He said slightly louder.  

"You clean up good, Winchester." You flirted. You weren't lying. Dean looked utterly delicious in his black button-down and the light jeans.

"Come on," Dean said with a tilt of his head. He grabbed your hand into his and pulled you into the parking lot. The two of you entered the Impala, and Dean began driving into town.

"Where are we going?" You asked, turning your body to face his.

"I'm not telling," Dean said with bravado.

"Ok...I'm excited." You answered.

About ten minutes later, Dean pulled into a western-themed Mini Golf center. You turned and smiled at him.

"I'm gonna kick your ass." You said with an arrogant laugh.

"In your dreams. Prepare to be demolished." Dean shot back, already getting out of the car. You turned to grab your purse when the passenger door opened. Dean stood with his hand stretched out. You slid your fingers across his and let him pull you out of the car.

You got your clubs and balls and walked over to the first hole. Dean went first, his ball barely making it over the slight hump in the grass. You laughed and set your ball down on the marker. You wiggled your hips slightly, getting your feet right.

"Don't do that to me," Dean said from behind you. You looked at him over your shoulder, giving him your most innocent face.

"I couldn't possibly know what you mean." You said, batting your eyelashes and running the tip of your tongue over your teeth. Dean pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, letting his teeth run over it before it bounced back into place.

"Just hit the ball." He said low and heavy.

"With pleasure." You responded.

You played more holes, and with each passing one, you felt more and more relaxed. You were so comfortable around Dean. You could say anything to him, joking or not. He was your best friend and your partner. The two of you laughed loud. You almost cried when Dean shot all his balls into the small creek on the fourth hole. He couldn't stop the laugh that erupted out of him when your ball hit the windmill blade, sending it straight back to you. Dean got playfully angry when you made three consecutive shots, and he made none. And after it had taken you about six tries to get one ball in, you jumped into his arms, laughing when you finally got it.

You laid down the weight of the world for a moment and enjoyed each other. The evening air kissed your lingering stares and playful touches. You and Dean found an easy rhythm as the sun descended below the horizon. The picturesque sky burned with intense oranges and soft pinks. The shadows of the low light cast Dean in an even more dramatic and contoured hue. The breeze was delicate and silken as it danced over your uncovered skin. You shivered slightly as you placed your ball onto the mark and lined up your club.

"What kind of stance is that?" Dean asked.

"Same one I have had this entire time." You said.

"No wonder you are losing. That looks wrong." He assessed, tilting his head and body to look you over.

"I'm sorry, Tiger Woods. Please forgive me." You joked. Before you could take a breath, Dean stood behind you. He slid his hands down your arms, covering your hands with his. His body pressed into you, so close that his chin touched your shoulder when he began to talk.

"Relax." He whispered. You breathed and let go of the tension keeping you stiff. You felt your body melt into his. He stood firm as you leaned against him. Dean took a breath into his lungs, his exhale tickling your back.

"Does that feel better?" He asked, leaning even more forward to look at your face. You raised your eyes to his, holding them before you spoke.

"It's perfect." You whispered.

"I agree," Dean answered, his gaze flicking between your mouth and eyes. A calm wind blew past you, your body shaking from the cool air.

"Are you cold?" Dean asked. You simply nodded your head.

"They have an indoor thing, I think; let's go." He released you from his tight grip. He took your club into his hand and wrapped his opposite arm around your shoulders, leading you toward the building. You snuggled into him, taking in his musky and manly scent.

Inside was a saloon-style bar for adults and some stuff for kids in the back. You and Dean sat at the bar, looking at all the decor, trying to inspire an old-west vibe. You each ordered a drink and turned to face one another on your stools. Over Dean's shoulder, you saw a photography set up complete with costumes and backdrops.

"I have an idea." You said with a wicked grin. You grabbed his hand and practically yanked him off the stool and through the bar. Dean looked up and immediately shot you a bitch face.

"No." He said.

"Yes." Was all you replied.

Dean put the outfit over himself, wrinkling his nose at the scratchy fabric. He returned to the bar and gave the photographer a shrug before placing his beer on the counter. He rested his elbow on the bar and waited for you. About five minutes later, you came back into the room. You wore a black lace corset that hugged your frame perfectly. Billowing black and burgundy skirts flowed out from your hips. The right side was hiked up and tucked into your waist, showing off black tights and heels. Layers of pearls hung from your neck, swaying as you moved. Your hair had been pinned, a burgundy feather sticking out from behind your ear. The strap of your left shoulder fell as you walked over to Dean. His mind went blank. The world fell away until all that was left was you. He lost his balance, his elbow falling off the bar, sending him stumbling forward. His hands wrapped around your waist to steady himself. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, looking up at him with large eyes.

"You know this is like really hitting all my fantasies right now?" Dean said, his voice dense and syrupy.

"Oddly enough, it's stirring some up for me." You replied, giving Dean a not-so-subtle once over.

"Alright! Let's get these pictures taken!" The photographer sounded cheesy and overexcited. You chose the backdrop you wanted and stood in front of the screen. There were props you could choose from. You and Dean both decided on a gun. You suddenly felt uncomfortable and self-conscious. How were you supposed to pose? This all felt weird.

"Don't worry. We can work through some poses together." The photographer said as if on cue.

"Ok, let's start with you in the chair." He pointed to Dean. "And you behind him." He told you. You and Dean took your assigned spots.

"Good! Now place your hand on his shoulder and your other hand with the gun on your hip." You did as he instructed. "Perfect!" He took a few snaps.

"Ok, now, good sir. If you don't mind turning fully to the side. And let's have our beautiful lady stand in between your legs." You bit your lip as you positioned yourself between Dean's muscular thighs.

"Wrap your arm around her and hook your thumb into her garter there." He said. Dean's thick fingers wrapped around your thigh, his thumb sliding into the garter. You took in a shuttering breath, trying to hide your arousal. The photographer took a few more shots before coming out from behind the camera again.

"Ok, now sit on his lap." He said. You stepped out of the way and allowed Dean to move into position on the chair. He then motioned for you to sit, kindness and a hint of amusement in his eyes. You sat down on him, crossing your legs and leaning into his chest. Your skirt opened up, showing off most of your legs. Dean cleared his throat but remained still. He once again touched your leg, smoothing his palm down from your knee to grasp your ankle.

"You doing ok?" Dean whispered.

"Yeah, this is fun." You said with a slight giggle. Dean smiled at you, tilting his head back slightly.

"You guys look amazing together!" The photographer exclaimed as he took more pictures.

"Finally..." He said, raising his finger to his chin in thought. "Stand up." He decided. You stood first, letting your skirts fall back over your body. Dean moved the chair out of the way and waited for his next direction.

"Ok, stand facing each other. Now you turn slightly." He said to Dean, turning him by the shoulders so he was facing more forward than you.

"And you grab him by the jacket." You held Dean's jacket with both hands, the gun resting against him.

"Perfect! Now, lift your leg to his waist." You once again lifted your leg, feeling your skirt open to expose all the way to the curve of your ass.

"And grab her leg and hold her steady." The photographer instructed Dean. Dean looked at you and gave you a tight smile as if he was holding back laughter. He wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you tighter against him. His other hand lay against the top of your thigh, the gun pressing into your skin.

"This is nice." You joked.

"Ya know. I was just thinking about how we should do this more often." Dean amused back.

"And look here!" The photographer called, taking the last of the photos.

Once you and Dean changed back into your regular clothes, you looked over the pictures. You had to admit, they looked pretty cool. The sepia tone hid imperfections well, highlighting your makeup and dark clothing. Dean looked ridiculously handsome, as always, his strong looks accentuated by the shadows and contrasts.

"I like these two," Dean said, pointing to the one of you on his lap and the one of him holding you against him.

"Of course you do." You laughed. "I like those too." You agreed. Dean paid for a large print of both of you standing and got a photo strip of your four poses. You were surprised he actually bought it. You thought he would want to forget you made him do this as soon as possible.

"I can't believe you bought it." You expressed your thoughts as you walked back to the car.

"Of course! I gotta have some reminder of the first date with my girl." Dean said in a joking tone. You stood in front of the car, not wanting to get in and end the night. You smiled and stepped toward him, looking up at him with your eyes.

"What do you want to do now?" You asked, your voice breathy and low. Dean cupped your cheeks, his thumbs pushing your jaw to tilt your face toward his.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," Dean said, almost as if he was telling himself and you.

"Finally." You breathed.

He kissed you like how the waves kiss the sand. Consistent and all-encompassing. His soft and full lips moved over yours with passion and adoration. His fingers twisted into your hair at the nape of your neck, melting you further into him. He backed you up against the Impala, your back leaning on the cold metal. One hand slid down your body, slipping under the hem of your shirt. His gentle fingers caressed your stomach and ribcage. His index finger sunk below the waistband of your jeans. You broke the kiss.

"I really want you to keep going, but there are kids here." You said, looking around at the selection of minivans in the parking lot. Dean leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. He nodded, moving your head with the motion.

"Ok, yeah." He finally said. The beginning of the drive was quiet and slightly awkward. Neither of you knew what to say after that. You pulled your leg onto the seat, and Dean instantly slid his hand down your thigh. He grabbed a fistful of the jean-covered flesh of your inner thigh and yanked you toward him. You let out a surprised squeak but quickly settled next to him. You lay your head on his shoulder and relax into the silence.

Dean walked you to your motel room. You turned to face him, holding his eyes with yours.

"I had a really great time tonight, Dean. Thank you for everything." You said sincerely.

"Does our night have to end?" Dean asked, taking a step toward you.

"No." You could barely get the word out before Dean was on you again. His mouth overtaking and tasting every part of yours. Your back was pressed against the wood door. Dean lifted you to him, wrapping your legs around his waist. Somehow, you got into your motel room, Dean stumbling in with you in his arms.

The two of you connected in ways you never thought possible. The world was deep in slumber as you explored every inch of each other's bodies. The cocky and self-assured personality he used as a shield fell away, and all that was left was Dean. Raw and real. Achingly beautiful. You silently pledged yourselves to each other under the crescent moon. No one understood you better. No one loved you better. No one. It was Dean. It was always Dean.

Tagging:  @thinkinghardhardlythinking @watermelonlipstick @lacilou   @kingofthetwats @bellabean5591 @coldgothapricotalmond @briskywalker @gia-25 @reconsidering-my-life-choices @paryl @cutesymrsinuyashagamer @katrynec @arctusluna @samfreakingwinchester @idreamofplaid @zeppette @katherine-ann1 @maliburenee @nancymcl @babymxxse​ @winchestergirl2​

[moonlight-rider25]

Gimme, Gimme, Gimme..

 ..A Winchester boys series, featuring you as the reader, Sam and Dean?..

..Hunting cases together...

...angsty backstory...

..You can pick who you end up with...

What do you think?

[redbird-tf]

Harmony

Sam winchester x younger sister x dean winchester

(More sam focused)

Summary: the brothers still had lots to learn about their sister, like the weight of her favorite harmony

Word count: 1.2k

Notes: the harmony i think of for reference

Warnings: angst, mention of death, violence

To say it had been a tough day would be an understatement it had been a tough few months. You were having a hard time adjusting to finding out you had two brothers, Sam was struggling to step into the big brother role, and Dean seemed to be doing the best out of the three. Of course, Dean was shocked, but he had been a big brother for years. The only thing Dean struggled with was the guilt and anger that you had been in this life alone for years.Hunting together was also proving to be a challenge. Dean and Sam had teamed up for years, but your independent nature often clashed with their established rhythm, making hunts more difficult. It would take time before you could truly function as a team.

If the boys had learned anything about you it was that harmony you were always humming. It wasn’t from any song the boys recognized, but it was the same every time you hummed it. Sometimes they’d hear it even when you weren’t around, because of how ingrained it was in their mind. Right now it was serving as the source of Sam’s annoyance. “Y/n i can't focus with your humming” Sam snapped from the passenger seat. You were lying in the back half asleep and hadn't even noticed you were humming. You let out a huff, abruptly grumbling out a half-hearted “sorry” which seemed to irritate Sam more as he slammed his book shut. “You know what? I've had it up to here with you.” He exclaimed turning to face you. “What did i do!?” You shouted back sitting straight up. “UH, the bruise on my face!” He mocked pointing at his black eye. “Thats not my fault!” You rebuttal, furrowing your brows “It wouldn’t have happened if you had just followed the plan” he countered “Your plan didn't work!”

“Alright, enough!” Dean’s booming voice made you both fall silent. “We all messed up, alright? Now knock it off.” He stated firmly. The car stayed silent, but he could see you two exchanging glares from the corner of his eye “Stop looking at each other” Dean commanded, and in sync, you both slouched back with your arms crossed. “Why do I always gotta be the frick’n mom” dean mumbled under his breath.

———————

“This it, Sammy?” Dean questioned pulling over. Sam looked down at his map “Route 46, the last spotting of a vampire was here” Sam stated stepping out of the car. “Got the dead man's blood?” Dean asked watching Sam sling the bag over his shoulder. Sam nodded leading the way into the woods. “I've never seen a vampire before” you whispered to Dean to prevent Sam from hearing you. “Well their not easy…” Dean paused seeing the flicker of worry in your eyes “Dead man's blood is about the only thing that will kill them, and they come in packs…but so do we” he explained trying to ease your obvious concern of messing up.

“Over here” Sam gestured for you to catch up. “Thats it?” You asked quietly, eyeing the old barn “There's only three in there” Sam said lowering his binoculars. You watched as they prepared their knives by dowsing them in blood, “be careful with that,” Dean stated handing you a dagger. You all crept to the back of the barn and snuck in through a cracked window. You dropped in a bit louder than intended, prompting Sam to shush you, annoyance flashing across your face. Tiptoeing over to the sleeping vampires. You loomed over them, waiting for Dean’s signal and when you got it, you pushed your danger hard into the vamp. He scratched hard into your arm but you held firm, only pulling away when you were sure he was down for good. You turned to your brothers “That was easier than expected”

You quickly realized you had spoken too soon as your body slammed violently intk the ground and your vision became a red blur. A burning sensation spread across your face and loud noises overwhelmed you, causing you to scream out for your brothers “i can't see! I can't see anything!” You cried in pure terror. The last thing you heard was sams voice drawing near before everything went black.

——————-

“It's been over three hours Dean” Sam's voice wavered while he paced back and forth. “She’ll be fine” Dean reassured him, adjusting the bandage covering your eyes before leaning back in the chair at your bedside. “What if she hit her head too hard?” Sam stuttered out. “She's fine,” Dean said sternly, though part of him was trying to convince himself. “We should take her to the hospital,” Sam insisted, balling his fist. “And say what, Sam? My sister got scratched across the face by a vamp” Dean explained the harsh truth. Sam sighed looking down at you, his lip quivering. “I'm gonna grab a beer,” Dean said, rising from the chair knowing he couldn’t hold it together much longer.

Once Dean had left, Sam knelt by your side and took your hand in his. Guilt gnawed him, knowing the last thing he did was yell at you for something as simple as humming. What's worse is that he knew you hummed to comfort yourself. A detail he had picked up on over the months. He’d watched you hum yourself to sleep, after hunts, or when the world felt overwhelming. Sam bit his lip feeling his eyes begin to gloss over. How could he have been so cruel? How could he call himself a big brother?

He closed his eyes and began to hum the familiar harmony, seeking his own solace within it. “Mom?” Your voice rang, barely louder than a whisper. Sams's head shot up “Y/n” he breathed out. His body flooded with Relief. “Sam?” You became confused as you abruptly sat up. “Woah, easy there,” Sam said placing his hands on your shoulder to steady you. “I-I can't see” stammered, panic creeping back in. “I know. You got hurt and we had to stitch you up. I can remove the bandage if you want” he explained gently in an attempt to soothe you. You nodded and Sam began to slowly unravel the bandages. You looked around and saw the bunker walls surrounding you, your eyes beginning to uncontrollably water.

Your figures brushed over the stitches on your face, tears beginning to well in your eyes. Your reaction was making Sam nervous “We did the best we could, it shouldn’t scar too bad” he tried to reassure you, but You stayed silent, your gaze dropping to your lap. “I thought i died, i thought..” you paused, “i thought you were my mom” you muttered. Despite the circumstances, a small laugh escaped Sam's lips “Why would you think that?” He asked with a slight smirk. “You were humming her melody” you stated blankly. Sams's smile dropped, and the guilt he didn’t know could grow any larger, grew “y/n, I'm sorry…i didn't know” he apologized, moving to sit next to you. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, but you couldn’t muster the strength to look him in the eye.

“She's awake?” A voice shattered the tension as Dean rushed to your side, unintentionally pushing Sam aside. He embraced you tightly “you gave us a scare there, kid” he breathed out with a chuckle. You mumbled a sorry into his shoulder before pulling away to meet sams gaze. The eye contact took him by surprise and it took him a moment to gather his words “y/n, I'm sorry for snapping at you, you didn't deserve that.” He watched as your gaze softened, but continued to press on“And…i won't hum that again, i didn't know” he explained lowering his head. You shook your head “No Sam, it's ok. You do it perfectly and…” he gazed up at you again, seeing a smile tug at your lips “It's comforting” Your tender tone washed away the heaviness in his chest. Sam mouthed a thank you, taking your hand in his as his thumb glided over your knuckles.

“Did i miss something?” Dean questioned glancing between you and sam, a hint of frustration that made you both laugh. “No no…i just” Sam stopped, taking a moment to appreciate the happy version of you that had replaced the distressed one he’d seen just moments before. “I'm just learning what it means to be a big brother” Sam expressed with a wide smile. Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, then you can watch her while i get some shut-eye” he said, giving Sam’s shoulder a light pat. Sam tried to rebuttal, but Dean cut him off “you wanted to be the big brother, welcome to the job,” Dean teased. He shook his head until he felt you lean into him. He glanced over seeing how you relaxed against him. This is the brother he wanted to be.

[here-for-the-captain]

For those fanfic writers who worry that no one’s reading or they aren’t that good - you may be our next Oscar winner. I believe in you!

Chloé Zhao, who just won an Oscar for best director, writes fanfiction.

That's the kind of validation I needed in my life. Thank you, ma'am.

[saintfaux]

[deansmultitudes]

I didn't expect I'd be making a round-up this year but a few bite-sized fics happened and you know what? They're tiny, but I'm proud of them. They might have just been the perfect size to encapsulate the quintessence of my inspiration. Or something like that.

Oh, and almost all of them are deanlisa, which like, goals <3

⨳

wicker. → dean x lisa. 282. d a r k. he locks his fingers on her slender throat

almost. → dean x lisa. 234. bittersweet. it almost scares him, the way he needs her

ease. → dean x lisa. 202. bittersweet. she wakes up and, for a heartbeat, the bed’s too warm

rock → dean x lisa. 329. trucker au. Lisa’s not like most women Dean meets at the truck stops

With Laughter → sam. 1291. post-finale. d a r k. Sam receives a distressed call from Jody, begging him for help.

they wouldn't let you bury him → dean x lisa. 283. deathfic. they burn him on a pyre so he doesn't stay

[inknopewetrust]