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captonite · 1 day ago

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Whose. Coat. Is That?

Supernatural | Humor + Fluff | Chaos Ensues

It started off like any normal Tuesday.

Rain outside. Old rock on the radio. Sam elbows-deep in lore. Dean threatening to throw the coffee machine out the window because it dared to beep twice.

Then the bunker door creaked open.

“Hey, I’m back!” came Chubs’s voice, casual as anything.

Both brothers turned around.

And froze.

Because there she was — Sachi “Chubs” Winchester — standing in the entryway in a full-length tan trench coat.

Not just any trench coat.

Cas’s trench coat.

Sam blinked. “Is that—?”

Dean stepped forward, brows low, voice flat. “You wanna tell me why you’re wearing Castiel’s signature wardrobe item like you’re about to go fight the Leviathan army?”

Chubs blinked at them like they were insane.

“It was cold,” she said simply, shrugging the coat tighter around her shoulders. “Cas said I could borrow it.”

Dean made a noise. A strange, mangled noise that might’ve been jealousy or rage or maybe the last breath of a man watching his little sister commit heaven-level blasphemy.

“Cas gave it to you?”

“Not gave,” she said. “Lent. Relax.”

Sam’s voice pitched up a whole octave. “You’re wearing Cas’s trench coat. On your body. That’s like—like—holy relic behavior.”

Chubs squinted. “You guys are being weird. It’s just a coat.”

Dean sputtered. “It is not just a coat! It’s Cas’s coat! The one he never takes off! The one that smells like ozone and beeswax and inexplicable guilt!”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “Did he put it on you himself?!”

“Not everything is sacred, boys,” she said dryly.

“Oh my God, he did.”

Dean pointed an accusatory finger. “Did he do the shoulder thing? The protective drape thing? Cas loves the protective drape!”

Chubs bit her lip.

That was answer enough.

Dean made the noise again. Louder.

“You’re being dramatic,” she said, brushing past them. “He literally said, and I quote, ‘You are cold. Take this. I don’t require warmth.’ And then he gave me the coat. Like a normal person.”

“He is an angel of the Lord,” Dean hissed.

Sam was frozen in place. “Does that make her—are they bonded now? Is that how this works? Is she his trench coat wife??”

“STOP.”

Cut to ten minutes later.

Dean was pacing the hallway, muttering to himself.

“Coat. Gave her the coat. Just handed it over like it was no big deal. Next thing you know he’s giving her his blade and a holy tablet and a key to Heaven.”

Sam was sitting on the couch, notebook in his lap, but he hadn’t turned a page in five minutes.

“She smiled when she put it on, man. And she looked all cozy. Like a divine librarian.”

Dean groaned. “She looked small, Sam. Small and precious and—Cas knows that.”

Sam dragged a hand down his face. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Me neither.”

“I’m having an actual crisis.”

“Should we call a meeting?”

“With who?! Cas is the enemy now!”

That’s when Cas popped into the bunker.

“Hello,” he said. “I sensed some distress.”

Sam and Dean both pointed at him like dramatic courtroom lawyers.

“YOU.”

Cas blinked. “What did I do?”

Dean was already up in his face. “You draped her.”

Cas tilted his head. “She was cold.”

“You lent her your trench coat!”

“Yes.”

“That’s basically angel marriage!”

Cas blinked. “It is not.”

Sam squawked from the couch, “Is she bonded now? Do we have to ask her to smite things? Is she gonna start glowing?!”

“She’s not bonded,” Cas said slowly. “She was shivering. I gave her warmth. It’s a basic act of compassion.”

“Compassion is a gateway drug!” Dean shouted.

Cas blinked. “You two are unusually emotional today.”

“You let her wear the trench coat,” Sam said, eyes wild. “It’s like watching her put on Dad’s jacket.”

“She is not John Winchester.”

“She’s our baby, Cas!” Dean shouted.

At that moment, Chubs wandered back into the room — still in the coat, eating cereal.

Everyone stopped.

Dean pointed again. “LOOK AT HER.”

Cas tilted his head, eyes softening slightly. “She looks… safe.”

“NO SHE LOOKS LIKE A TINY WAR GENERAL,” Dean barked.

Sam nearly sobbed. “Why does it look good on her?!”

Chubs just blinked at them all. “I’m never giving it back now.”

Dean groaned and faceplanted into the arm of the couch.

Sam muttered something about trench coat custody agreements.

Cas sighed. “I’ll just get another one.”

---

Two days later, Sam walked into the war room wearing one of Chubs’s oversized hoodies.

Dean was already there — in her pink fuzzy socks.

Chubs walked in wearing Dean’s flannel and Sam’s beanie and Cas’s new trench coat.

They all froze.

Then sat down like nothing happened.

Dean handed her the syrup.

Sam asked her about the hunt.

Cas, sitting across the table, said softly, “You can keep the coat, Sachi.”

She smiled.

And somehow, everything was okay.

Even if the Winchesters were still secretly spiraling.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x sister!reader #castiel #castiel x winchester!reader #supernatural #supernatural fluff

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musubi05 · 2 days ago

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╰┈➤ Too Bright

Jensen Ackles x actress!reader (platonic)

Jared Padalecki x actress!reader (platonic)

Summary: As an actress you have to be comfortable with all the paparazzi... you're not yet used to all of the cameras and lights but you have Jared and Jensen to help.

The SUV door swung open, and the noise hit you like a crashing wave - screams, flashing lights, the chaotic blur of paparazzi calling your name and your character's, all at once. You paused at the edge of your seat, hands trembling slightly in your lap, trying to steady your breathing. It was supposed to be a celebration - the Supernatural series wrap party, the culmination of years of love from fans, the final sendoff for the Winchesters. But as you stared out at the red carpet stretching ahead like a battlefield, it suddenly felt overwhelming.

"You good?" Jared asked, crouching beside you, his tall frame practically folding in half to meet your eyes. His presence was grounding, like he always was - playful, warm, and safe. He looked like someone who belonged in the chaos, but his attention was fully on you. You gave him a weak smile.

"I think so," you said, though your voice betrayed your nerves.

On your other side, Jensen leaned in from the backseat, already peering past the tinted windows at the frenzied crowd. "It's just another red carpet," he said, flashing that easy grin. "We walk. We wave. Jared forgets where to look. I pretend I don't know him. It’s tradition."

You snorted. "And me?" you asked.

Jared grinned. "You shine."

That warmth carried you for the first few steps onto the carpet. But the moment your heels touched the ground, it all changed. The noise intensified, the flashes exploded around you like tiny fireworks, and suddenly you weren't just part of the background - you were the center of it. They were shouting your name. Asking about who you were dating. Calling you 'Maggie,' even though you weren't in costume. It was too much, too fast.

Your heart started pounding. The carpet tilted beneath your feet. You couldn't breathe. The crowd blurred into a mess of faces and lenses, and your chest tightened as if a weight had settled right on top of it.

"Hey," Jared said softly, already noticing. He leaned in close, worry in his eyes. "You okay?"

You barely managed to shake your head before your breath caught entirely. Jensen was at your side in an instant, stepping between you and the wall of cameras with protective force. "Give her a minute," he barked at the photographers, voice low and firm. Some of them backed off. Some didn't. But it gave you just enough space to stumble a step back into Jared’s arms.

He caught you easily, wrapping a steady arm around your shoulders and lowering his voice to something only you could hear. "Close your eyes," he murmured. "Block it out. You're okay. We've got you." So you did.

Behind your eyelids, the world slowed down. You could still hear the chaos, but it faded, softened by the sound of Jared's voice and the gentle rhythm of his thumb rubbing circles on your back. You heard Jensen joking with one of the security guards about how Dean Winchester would've driven the Impala through the barricade by now. The absurdity of it made you smile.

After a moment, you opened your eyes and breathed a little easier. "Sorry," you whispered. "I don't know what happened."

"You got overwhelmed," Jared said simply. "Happens to all of us."

Jensen gave you a crooked smile. "I told a reporter I was a Capricorn once. Spoiler: I'm not."

You laughed, the tension easing just enough for you to straighten up. "Thanks. I mean it."

Jared pulled you in for a quick side hug. "You don't have to thank us. You're family."

Jensen nodded, slinging an arm over your shoulders. "We’ve been through fake demonic possessions, apocalypses, and Jared's chili night. This? This is easy."

With them beside you, the red carpet didn't feel so daunting anymore. You walked together, Jared's hand gently guiding you forward, Jensen throwing sarcastic comments in your ear to make you laugh between camera flashes. And even though the lights still blazed and the voices still shouted, you weren't afraid. You weren't alone.

You were a Winchester.

And Winchesters? They always had each other's backs.

#spn #supernatural #winchester sister #supernatural x reader #supernatural x sister #dean x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader #winchesters x sibling #dean winchester x sister!reader #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #jensen x reader #jared x reader #j2

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inlovewhithafairytale · 1 year ago

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POV: The Winchester's have a little sister

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samsblades · 9 months ago

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SUPERNATURAL M.LIST all works are gender neutral, reblogs + feedback are greatly appreciated !! MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI WITH MY NSFW CONTENT. YOU WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED !!! all nsfw fics are clearly labeled MDNI, this applies to ageless blogs. p for platonic! f for fluff, a for angst, h/c for hurt/comfort, s for smut, su for suggestive!

SAM WINCHESTER

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DEAN WINCHESTER DRABBLES / ONESHOTS ⟢ the language of love isn’t dead | 2.4K, f, a ⟢ flower shop, 11:00 a.m. | 644, f ⟢ gas station, 3:04 a.m. | 615, h/c, p

HEADCANONS ⟢ best friend!dean | 1K , f, p

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BOTH DRABBLES / ONESHOTS (all platonic) ⟢ sorry won’t cut it (rewrite) | 4.1K, a, h/c ⟢ broken, fine for tonight | 1.3K, h/c ⟢ easy, maybe | 3K, h/c ⟢ safe now | 1.4K, h/c

HEADCANONS (all separate) … nothing yet !

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HEADCANONS ⟢ girlfriend hcs | 1.3K, f

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CHARLIE BRADBURY DRABBLES / ONESHOTS ⟢ make you feel so good | 1.K, s, MDNI

HEADCANONS … nothing yet !

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JO HARVELLE DRABBLES / ONESHOTS ⟢ so pretty | 1.7K, s, MDNI ⟢ hooked | 1.6K, s, MDNI

HEADCANONS ⟢ girlfriend hcs | 1.6K, f

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JESSICA MOORE DRABBLES / ONESHOTS ⟢ our girl | 1.2K, s, MDNI, w/sam

HEADCANONS … nothing yet !

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ROWENA MCLEOD DRABBLES / ONESHOTS ⟢ whiskey wanting | 1K, su, MDNI

HEADCANONS … nothing yet !

౨ৎ

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castiwls · 1 year ago

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"whatever you do, your still my brother"

being the winchesters little sister...

You would probably be the product of a one-night stand. Your mum managed to track John down once you were born and just kinda left you outside the motel.

Dean came out to see a baby and freaked. (Thought you were his for a moment lmao)

John was shocked (and not too happy) when he came back to find both Sam and Dean fussing over a baby. Turns out your mum had left a note and all three of them were shocked. (Dean was slightly relieved)

You were like 4 ish when Sam left for Standford so you didn't really understand why your brother disappeared.

John was an ok dad but he wasn't really present.

Dean mostly raised you. Because of this, you are both really close (when Sam left he kinda latched onto you)

Not understanding when John went missing.

Being very excited when Dean told you that you were going to see Sammy. Practically throwing yourself at your brother when you were in his apartment.

Him being slightly surprised you remembered him after two years.

They didn't really tell you about anything hunting-related till you were older. They wanted you to have some semblance of a childhood

When John died you were upset but not distraught. You didn’t really know him.

As you got older Dean slowly taught you self-defense and how to handle a gun (they still kept the hunting thing quiet.

Meeting Cas and asking him every question you could think of. He thought it was endearing (he answered them all)

Sam helped with ‘schooling’

Reading LOADS while being on the road

(Sometimes you and Sam would stay up late and talk about books.)

Dean showing you all his favourite movies (He claimed you needed a ‘proper education’)

Him teaching you to drive in the Impala. (he spent the whole time internally freaking out)

They are both VERY overprotective

Having movie nights at least once a week (you all rotate on who picks)

You used to do game nights but things got a bit heated (Dean’s a sore loser)

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 6 months ago

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The Safest Place

Sam and Dean & little sister!reader, John Winchester & daughter!reader

Synopsis: John has to tell you (4) about monsters, and you don’t take it well

Warnings: none, it’s short and sweet

“And that’s what me and Sammy and Dean do. And that’s why we move around all the time, and why you can’t go to work with me, and…” John swallowed. “Kiddo that’s why you don’t have a mom. Demons took her.”

Dean couldn’t watch. He didn’t even want to listen. He’d wanted to keep you from the truth for so much longer, but you were so much more nosy than Sam had been. You went through John’s journal and asked about all the monster pictures you saw in it, you asked John countless questions about the guns and the newspaper clippings and…and everything. But it was more than that—you were also clingy. Clingy to the point where you’d sneak out and try to follow either John or your brothers when they went out to hunt monsters. After a close call with a vampire where you snuck into the Impala then almost got yourself killed, John decided that enough was enough. You wouldn’t last long in this life unless you had a healthy fear of the supernatural. So that’s what John had to give you.

“What if demons take you?” Your quiet whimper finally had Dean looking up. You were shaking, blinking up at your dad as if waiting for him to say that it was all a joke and monsters weren’t real.

“The demons aren’t gonna take me,” John promised. “That’s why we hunt. So they can’t take anybody else.”

You didn’t respond, so John reached down and picked you up, laying you down on his bed and tucking you in.

“Get some sleep, kiddo.”

…

John fell asleep quickly, but Dean could hear you tossing and turning even as he struggled to settle down himself. He was always the last to fall asleep, and having to share a bed with Sam since there was no pullout couch wasn’t helping.

Because of his insomnia, Dean was the first to hear your feet padding on the motel carpet as you slipped off John’s bed and tiptoed your way over to Dean’s.

“De?” Dean could tell you were crying from just the one syllable. “De, I need help.”

Dean rolled over to see you standing at the edge of his bed, your arms stretched out for him. Dean pulled you up onto the bed without comment, and once his arms were around you you refused to let him go.

“I don’t want the demons to get me, De,” you sniffled.

“Hey—“ Dean tightened his arms around you. “—I’m not gonna let any demons get you, ok?”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Sam whispered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Demons are scary, Sammy,” you whimpered.

“Oh honey…” Sam disentangled you from Dean’s arms and cradled you in his lap.

“How do I fight demons?” You rubbed at your eyes.

“Hey, you don’t have to worry about that,” Dean said. “I don’t ever want you thinking about it. Me and Sammy and Dad are gonna get those demons, ok? Nobody’s ever gonna hurt you.”

“Yeah, and you wanna know what the safest place is?” Sam asked. You nodded firmly. “It’s right about…” Sam laid back down, and Dean followed his lead. “Here.” Sam positioned you in between himself and Dean, tucking you under the covers and keeping one arm over you. You latched onto his arm, your tiny hands wrapping around his fingers.

“Nobody can hurt you here,” Dean promised. “Me and Sammy and Dad won’t let them.”

You reached your hand out for Dean, and he responded by putting his arm over Sam’s, so you had both of your brother’s arms protecting you.

You were asleep in minutes.

Taglist:

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#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x reader #winchesters x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #john winchester x daughter #john winchester x reader #john winchester spn #john winchester #sam winchester x sister!reader #spn sam winchester #dean winchester x little sister #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader

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redbird-tf · 4 months ago

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All you need

Dean Winchester x toddler sister reader x sam Winchester

Synopsis; As your 4th birthday approaches, all you want is to spend it with your dad. But when he shows up only to leave again, it’s your big brother who proves he’s all you truly need.

Word count: 2.7k

Notes: reference the gif for the main scene

Warnings; daddy issues, daddy issues

“Da!”

You tugged at Dean's pant legs, desperate to grab his attention. Across the table, Sam looked up from his book to Dean and let out an exaggerated cough, “Dean i think she wants you” he remarked. “then she can say my name” he replied flatly without looking up from his journal. Sam shook his head“Add ‘unavailable brother’ to her therapy list” Sam muttered under his breath. Dean rolled his eyes, then finally turned his chair to face you. He leaned forward and tapped his chest in emphasis “De or dean.” He enunciated firmly. “Not ‘da’ not ‘dad’. Dean”

You stared at him with those wide, doe-like eyes. “de…” you repeated softly. “Yes, y/n?” He asked, His tone losing its edge. “I want color, and TV” you demand excitedly, yanking at his jeans. “Alright, I’ll grab you your colors,” Dean said, standing from his chair. Once you were settled in front of the TV with your Scooby color book Dean returned to the table. Sam, who had silently watched the exchange, let out a chuckle. “what?” Dean irritatedly questioned. “I just don't get why it's such a big deal to you” Sam commented. Dean exhaled sharply, trying to keep his voice low. “She knows I'm not dad, Sam.” his patience was wearing thin. “Does she?” Sam hesitated “She sees you a lot more than dad”. “Then why doesn't she call you dad? your with her as much as i am” Dean scoffed, roughly shutting his journal. Sam raised a brow “Because i was at Stanford for the first year of her life” Dean couldn’t argue and remained silent. His gaze wanders to you, engrossed by cartoons, oblivious to the conversation happening behind you.

Sam let out a heavy sigh, following Dean's gaze towards you. “Her birthday tomorrow…” his voice was laced with concern. “I know.” Dean mumbled, “you think Dad remembers?” Sam practically whispered. Dean's jaw tightened “He said he’d be back by tomorrow” Deans tone was flat, rehearsed almost. “Thats not what-“ “i don't know Sam” Dean snapped, his chair scraped against the hardwood as he stood abruptly. Without another word he turned and walked out the door, leaving Sam alone with his unspoken thoughts.

Dean's hand dragged down his face as his chest rose and fell. “Hey y/n” he heard Sam's voice call from inside. “Hi, Sammy”. Confused, he glanced over his shoulder to see the window he cracked open earlier. He hesitantly inched closer, peaking in through the blinds. Inside Sam was now sitting with you in front of the TV. You hadn’t even bothered to look up from your coloring book as you greeted him. Sam watched you for a moment “Y/n why do you call Dean dad?” Sam asked carefully. The scratching of crayons against thick paper had suddenly stopped. You shrugged dismissively “i don't know,” you said, unnaturally high-pitched. Sam knew there was something you weren’t telling him. Sam studied you and chose his next words carefully. “You know deans our brother right?”. Your shoulders slumped and your lips formed a pout.

“But… he acts like the dads on TV…” you mumbled. Sam let the silence sit, hoping you'd say more. “He's always here, he's strong, he loves me…” your voice wavered and before Sam could react, tears started to pool in your eyes. “Ok ok, I'm sorry bug, no need to cry” Sam cooed, swiftly scooping you into his lap. He rubbed slow circles into your back. After a moment Sam moved to cradle your face in his large hands, before speaking “you know brothers can do that too” he spoke gently, not wanting to upset you again. “Really?” You asked, blinking at him with those big round eyes, that never failed to make Sam's heart melt. “He’ll always be here, even when dad can't” Sam replied with a smile. His smile quickly faded when your pout had no intention of turning upside down like something was weighing you down. “What's wrong?” He asked with furrowed brows.

“Does Daddy remember my birthday tomorrow?” Sam’s heart shattered. Outside the window, Dean's head dropped. Guilt gnawing at him. he felt like he was already failing you, he was supposed to protect you from those thoughts. Sam wouldn’t shield their father’s image for you like Dean would, he couldn’t lie to you. “i don't know” Sam admitted, his voice cracking. His arms opened out to you again, waiting for you to seek comfort. But you didn't move. You stayed planted in his lap. “Dos dean….?” Your voice wavered, thick with sadness. “Of course he does” was quick to reply. “Because he's my brother” you mumbled, sam couldn’t tell if that was a statement or question but nodded his head anyway. “Because he's your brother” he repeated, lifting you gently off the floor. He pressed a kiss to your temple and held you close. “Let's get you to bed”

—————

You began to stir, the sunlight was bleeding warmth into the room and the birds chirping soothed you softly from your rest. With a yawn, You pushed yourself upright, rubbing the sleep from your heavy eyes. The faint voices caught your attention. Blinking away the last trace of sleep you turned your head. “Daddy!” You shouted, your eyes had landed on John who stood in the middle of the room between the brothers. Their conversation had halted, watching you dart towards John. “Hey kid” a rare smile tugged at his lips, as he swept you up into his arms. You wrapped yourself tightly around him“It's my birthday!” You announced. “The big 4” he added. Your smile widened, he remembered. “Do i get a gift?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side. “You know i was a little busy, but….” his hand began to rummage around in his pocket. “But this will get you whatever you want” he stated handing you a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. Sam rolled his eyes, a quiet scoff escaping him. John lowered you back to your feet “Now why don't you go play? i need to talk to your brothers” You nodded eagerly at his request, clutching the bill in your hand before scurrying off.

You had decided to occupy your time with more TV, letting their voices become background noise. Until the familiar creak of the door hinges caught your attention. The three of them were walking out the door, with their backs turned to you. You scrambled to your feet, to meet them in the parking lot. “Daddy! Where are we going?” You called out, your small feet smacking against the pavement. They hadn’t even noticed you following them. “I've gotta go to work baby” he explained crouching to your level. You frowned “But it's my birthday!” You nagged with a stomp of your foot. You tugged at his shirt and began to beg. It didn’t matter what he was saying-you just wanted him to stay. Your tantrum wore thin on John's patience “This is more important” he snapped, prying your hands from his collar with a sharp jerk. Your lip trembled uncontrollably, and before the first tear could fall you turned your heel. You ran back to the room, shoving past Sam when he tried to hold you. Sam turned back to face his dad with a cold stare. John returned the glare “Don't give me that look” John warned. “Dean help me with the bags” he ordered. Dean nodded, silently he grabbed a bag and followed their father to the truck.

John closed the tailgate with a thud then turned to Dean, his hand gripping his shoulder “Take care of your siblings” Dean nodded with a commonly repeated “yes sir” and turned back to the motel where he saw Sam standing, his arms crossed with a scowl on his face. Dean moved to stand next to him while they both watched John's truck pull out of the lot and disappear down the road. A faint sniffle broke the silence. Dean glanced down and was surprised to see your trembling form wrapped around Sammy's leg. With a sigh, Dean stepped forward, detaching you from Sam and pulling you into his arms. You didn’t resist and rather pressed your body tightly against your big brother's chest. The safest place in the world. His large hand rubs up and down your back while whispering comforting words in your ear. You shifted slightly, your head moved from resting on his shoulder to being tucked beneath his chin.

“You're my real daddy, De,” you said sternly, outweighing the tremble in your voice. Deans jaw clenched. His heart ached for you, for the little girl who had learned far too early what it felt like to be abandoned. There was nothing he could say to fix things, nothing he could do to shield you from the hurt. He just held you tighter, like it was the only thing holding you together. “Can we get McDonalds?” Your voice broke him from his trance and a small chuckle escaped his lips. “I got twenty dollars” you added, holding up the crumpled bill. A genuine laugh rumbled from his chest, shaking the heaviness of the moment. The girl who was just pulling on his heartstrings now wanted nothing more than McDonalds. Your brows furrowed in confusion, widening his smile even more. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I'll get you all the McDonalds you want” he promised, voice steady. Dean couldn’t fix things with their father, but maybe he could be everything you needed.

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alessandra-14 · 4 months ago

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A slip of the tongue

Dean Winchester x sister!reader and slightly Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Summmery: After a tough hunt, leaving the three hunters bruised and hurt and Dean angry at his little sister. But when she slips up and calls him "Dad," everything shifts.

Warnings: none really

(It's been requested weeks ago but I just now I managed to get it done)

Being raised by two older brother who don't really know what they're doing, may not be to ideal but for Y/N that's all she could have asked for.

Their dad was rarely ever home, usually away on hunt and blinded by the need to revenge his wife. So Dean and Sam had no other choice than to step in and raise her to be a strong smart woman. And she wouldn't trade that for anything in this world.

Like that one time when Dean tried to get her ready for the day.

“Sam, do you know how to braid hair?” Dean asked, frowning at the tangled mess called a ponytail. She was 5, sitting cross-legged on the motel bed, flipping through an old, dog-eared picture book.

“No, but I’m not the one who promised she’d look like a princess today,” Sam shot back, rolling his eyes. He was fifteen, gangly and awkward but always ready to help.

Then Dean also rolled his eyes and glared at his little brother. "You know you don't have to be so sassy all the time Sammy." He sayed in an obnoxiously annoying tone, to which Sam didn't say anything further.

Dean huffed, trying to mimic the motions he’d seen in some movie Y/N had made them watch. “Hold still, kid. You’re gonna look amazing.”

Or that time when both brothers decided to take her to the fair after she had been begging to go there for days.

The fairground lights twinkled and Y/N was full of energy, practically dragged her brothers toward the entrance.

“Dean! Funnel cake first! No, wait—the merry-go-round!” she shouted, her voice rising above the carnival buzz.

“Slow down!” Dean laughed and quickly tried catching up to her. Sam slightly less enthusiastic, rolled his eyes but followed close behind.

They played games. Dean won her a stuffed lion and they shared a funnel cake, When they reached the ferris wheel, Y/N squeezed into the seat between her brothers, resting her head on Dean’s arm.

“This is the best night ever,” she whispered already sleepy and exhausted after this fun night out.

Dean smiled, pulling her close. “Yeah, kiddo. It is.”

But their lives weren't always fun and peaceful. More often than not it was the complete opposite. John's anger, the constand yelling and fighting between Sam and John, the hunting. Oh especially the hunting.

The two brothers were never a big fan of taking her with them on hunts but John insisted she had to learn, so they hadn't much of a choice than to agree. But after seeing how good she actually is at this they decided to let her tag along even after John was long gone.

The Impala’s rumble was a soothing constant, a reminder of safety despite the chaos that had just unfolded. Sam’s face was taut with worry as he pressed a blood-soaked rag against her arm, the gash beneath stinging like fire. Dean’s jaw was clenched as he drove like a mad man, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.

Y/N sat in the backseat, trying not to wince every time the car hit a bump. Blood was soaking through her white shirt, but she knew better than to complain about a piece of clothing at the moment. Even if she really loved that shirt.

The hunt had gone sideways—what a surprise.

Dean and Sam had both sworn to protect their sister at all costs. But lately, she’d been trying to prove she could handle herself, trying to show them she wasn't just the kid tagging along anymore.

It was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn. Ghosts were her bread and butter. Something relatively easy to handle. But this one had been different. Angry. Vengeful. And ridiculously fast. Before anyone could react, it had slashed at her, sending the girl flying into a set of windows.

“Pull over,” Sam said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but firm. “I need to stitch this up before she loses too much blood. We've wasted to much time so far."

Dean didn’t argue, which was how she immediately could tell he was mad. He pulled into the parking lot of a dingy gas station, threw the car into park, and slammed the door shut behind him as he got out.

Sam turned to his sister, pulling out the first-aid kit. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” she said through gritted teeth.

Sam sighed but didn’t push it. His hands were steady as he threaded the needle and got to work, his murmured apologies lost in the sharp sting of every pull. Y/N tried to focus on the familiar sounds of Dean pacing outside the car, his boots crunching on gravel.

When Sam finished, he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and got out to check on Dean. The girl was alone for maybe thirty seconds before the driver’s side door opened and Dean slid in loudly. He turned to face her, his green eyes scanning her pale and tear struck face and then her bandaged arm.

“You okay, kiddo?”

“I’m fine,” She muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“Fine?” His voice was sharp, edged with frustration and anger. “You know you could’ve died back there.”

She flinched at his firm tone. “I wasn’t trying to get hurt, Dean.”

“You think that matters?” he snapped. “You’re supposed to be careful. You’re supposed to stay back and let us handle it. We know what we are doing!”

“I know what I am doing too and most importantly I’m not a little kid anymore!!”

“Well, you sure as hell act like one sometimes!”

The words hit her harder than she wanted to admit. Y/N looked down at her lap, blinking back tears. She knew he didn’t mean it—not really. Dean was scared. He always got like this when something happened to her or Sam. But that didn’t make it sting any less.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered after an intense silence.

Dean sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. His voice softened. “I just—damn it, I can’t lose you. You get that, right? You and Sam… you’re all I’ve got.”

The tears she’d been holding back spilled over, and before she could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“I know, Dad.”

The silence that followed was definitely awkward.

Her heart sank as soon as she realized what she’d said. “I—I mean, Dean. I didn’t mean. I—”

But he didn’t look angry. His eyes widened for a moment, then softened into something she couldn’t quite place. He reached out, his calloused hand gentle as it gripped her left hand.

“Hey,” he said softly, cutting off her rambling. “It’s okay.”

She looked at him worried and confused, her bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Yeah, you did,” he said, a small, sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And it’s okay. You’re my kid as much as you’re my sister. Hell you’ve always have been.”

The weight of his words settled over her, warm and reassuring. For the first time since she’d climbed into the Impala, the tightness in her chest loosened even for just a moment.

“Thanks, Dean,” She whispered.

“Don’t thank me,” he said gruffly, though his hand lingered for a moment longer before he pulled away. “Just… stop scaring the crap outta me, alright?”

She nodded, a small smile breaking through. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” He started the car, the familiar rumble filling the space and waited for Sam to come back in too. “Now, let’s get you patched up for real. And next time, you’re wearing body armor, I don’t care how stupid it looks.”

Sam climbed back in, raising an eyebrow at the sudden shift in mood but wisely deciding not to comment. As the Impala roared back onto the highway, Y/N leaned her head against the window, a strange sense of peace settling over her.

Dean might not have been her dad in the traditional sense, but in every way that mattered, he was. And now, she didn’t have to pretend otherwise.

#supernatural #dean winchester x sister!reader #the winchester brothers #sam winchester x sister!reader

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castielscaplan · 2 months ago

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Misery in My Heart

Summary: Sam confronts you when he assumes you're sleeping with his brother.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, (but not really), angst, happy ending, miscommunication

WC: 1,088 Words!

Read on Ao3!

You could feel Sam's eyes on you. It had been happening for the last couple of days, ever since you started spending more time with Dean. You had to admit, there was something easy about the way Dean made you laugh, the way his presence seemed to make everything a little less heavy. It had been a few long weeks on the road with the Winchesters, and you just needed someone to talk to. You needed someone who understood the weight of what you all did—someone who could crack a joke to lift your spirits when it seemed like the world was falling apart.

But Sam... Sam hadn’t taken kindly to it.

You didn’t understand it at first. He was your partner in this fight, your friend, the person who had been with you through thick and thin. So why was it that whenever you spent time with Dean, Sam started pulling away? Why did he look at you like you were doing something wrong, like you were betraying him? It didn’t make sense.

The tension in the air was thick, suffocating. Every time you walked into a room, Sam’s gaze would immediately narrow. His posture would stiffen, his shoulders tensing as if preparing for something. The distance between you two felt like an insurmountable wall, and the more you tried to bridge it, the farther he seemed to pull away.

You tried to shake it off, telling yourself that maybe he was just having a bad day, that maybe the weight of hunting and the constant danger was getting to him. But as the days wore on, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

It was that night when it all came to a head. Dean was sitting at the table, flipping through some old lore book, while you were on the couch, trying to relax after a long day. Sam had been in and out of the room, pacing, avoiding eye contact with you. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

"Sam," you called out gently, hoping to break the tension. "Are we okay? You’ve been... distant."

He stopped in his tracks, his jaw tightening at your words. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, his eyes flicked to Dean, who was completely oblivious, too focused on the book in front of him to notice the storm brewing in Sam’s eyes.

"You've been spending a lot of time with Dean lately," Sam said, his voice colder than you’d ever heard it.

You blinked in confusion, wondering where this was going. "Yeah, we’ve just been talking, Sam. You know, just... having some down time. We’ve all been through a lot lately."

Sam’s eyes darkened. "You think I don’t notice, [Y/N]? I see how you look at him. The way you laugh at his jokes. The way you two seem so comfortable together." He stepped forward, his fists clenching. "I can’t believe you’d do this."

You froze, your stomach dropping as realization hit. "Sam, what are you talking about?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"I’m talking about you two!" he snapped. "You’ve been sneaking around behind my back, haven’t you? Spending time with him, laughing with him, while I’m over here trying to hold it all together, trying to keep things from falling apart, and you—"

"Sam!" you cut him off, standing up abruptly, your heart pounding in your chest. "I’m not cheating on you. I’m not doing anything behind your back! You’ve been acting like I’m doing something wrong, and I don’t know why. I’ve been talking to Dean, yes, but that’s it."

Sam’s eyes narrowed, the hurt in them cutting through you like a knife. "So, you expect me to believe that? After everything we’ve been through? You think I’m just going to sit here and pretend it’s nothing? It’s obvious, [Y/N]. You two have something. I can see it."

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as your chest tightened with the weight of his accusations. "No, Sam," you said, your voice soft but firm. "We don’t have anything. Dean’s my friend, just like you are. But you... you’ve been acting like I’m doing something wrong. Why are you so jealous? Why do you think I’d ever hurt you like that?"

Sam didn’t respond right away. His gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of his own doubts was too much for him to carry. "I don’t know," he admitted quietly. "I just... I saw you two laughing together, and it made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Like I was losing you."

Your heart shattered at his words. You took a few steps closer, your voice gentle now, trying to ease the hurt that had been building between you. "Sam, you’ll never lose me. You’re not losing me to Dean, or to anyone else. You’re the one I want. You’ve always been the one I want."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with pain, confusion, and regret. "I’m sorry," he muttered, his voice breaking. "I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve known better than to let my jealousy get in the way of us. I just... I didn’t want to lose you."

You took his hand gently in yours, squeezing it softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "You haven’t lost me, Sam. You won’t. But you have to trust me. You have to trust that I’m not going anywhere. That what I feel for you is real, and I’m not going to hurt you."

For a moment, Sam didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he nodded, his hand tightening around yours as if grounding himself in the reality of your words.

"I’m sorry," he repeated, his voice barely audible. "I let my fears get the best of me."

You shook your head, lifting his chin so he’d meet your gaze. "It’s okay, Sam. We’ll work through it. But you have to talk to me. You can’t keep everything bottled up inside."

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he nodded again. "I know. I’ll do better. I’ll trust you."

You smiled softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. "We’re in this together. Always."

Sam leaned into your touch, his eyes softening. "I don’t deserve you."

"Maybe not," you said with a teasing smile, "but you have me anyway."

He chuckled lightly, his eyes finally warming as he pulled you into a gentle hug. And in that moment, you both knew that no matter how messy things got, you could always find your way back to each other.

//Please don't hesitate to reblog! //

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winchestersisterimaginessss · 4 months ago

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imagine: You’re going through all the emotions of being on your period with your brothers Sam and Dean, but realize you need a little help from Castiel

You were curled up in the weirdest position, trying to find some relief from the waves of pain coursing through your body. The cramps had hit you like a freight train, and no matter how much you tried to shift, nothing made it go away. The moment you woke up, you could tell it was going to be a long day.

As you lay there, gritting your teeth and doing your best not to cry out, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps. Dean’s voice broke through the haze of pain. “You good?” he asked in slight confusion, but for the most part amused. His tone was playful, like he was trying to make light of the position he found you in.

You let out a low groan before snapping at him. “Dean, I swear to God, if you don’t wipe that smirk off your face, I’ll slap it off of you,” you hissed through clenched teeth, practically vibrating from the pain.

Dean stopped in his tracks, his mouth still curled into that damn grin for a second longer. But when he noticed the agony on your face, the smirk dropped, and his expression turned serious. “Damn, what’s up with you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing a hand to your abdomen, trying to ride out the cramps. “I feel like I’m gonna fucking die,” you muttered bitterly, voice thick with frustration and pain.

Dean hesitated for a moment, but then, you felt his hand gently press against your back. His voice was softer. “What’s going on, kiddo?” he asked.

“Cramps,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips. You hated admitting weakness, but there was nothing you could do to hide it.

Dean didn't hesitate. He sat down beside you, gently shifting the pillow from beneath your head and making room for himself to lie next to you. He stayed quiet for a few seconds before speaking again.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and comforting, “I’m sorry you’re hurting, kid. I know I can’t exactly fix this for you, but I can at least stay with you while you get through it. If you need anything, I’m here.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body still aching, but his presence was like a balm to your frayed nerves. His voice, calm and steady, made the storm of pain inside your body seem a little less overwhelming.

“Thanks, Dean,” you murmured, feeling a surprising comfort from his words.

“If you need anything, I’ll be your errand boy. You just say the word.”

Sam wandered into the room at that point, catching the tail end of your exchange. He looked from you to Dean, immediately sensing something was off. “What’s going on?” Sam asked at the same time Dean mouthed period cramps to him behind your back. Dean’s eyes widened immediately, knowing that would set you off.

Before Dean could answer, you snapped, voice sharper now. “I swear, I’m gonna lose it if I have to keep dealing with this.”

Sam frowned, his eyes softening with concern. “You’re in pain, I get it. But take it easy, okay?”

You shook your head, barely holding it together now. “Easy? Easy? This? I can barely even move without feeling like I’m being stabbed repeatedly!” Your frustration bubbled over, and you didn’t even care that you were sounding irrational. The pain made you irrational.

And then, as if all the emotions that had been building up for days exploded, the tears came. They were hot, and they burned as they ran down your cheeks. The pain was too much, and you were just so tired of it.

Dean looked at you, his eyes softening, clearly unsure how to handle you in this state. His usual playful charm had disappeared, and now, he just seemed... concerned. “Hey, hey, come on, don’t cry. We’ll figure this out.”

But all you could think about was the fact that this cycle—this suffering—was something you couldn’t escape. The tears kept coming, and before you even knew it, you found yourself speaking without thinking.

“When we find God, remind me to ask him why the hell he thought it was a good idea to make women suffer like this.” You sniffled between your words, wiping at your eyes. “And if I ever find Eve, I swear, it’s on sight. I don’t care.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance before Dean raised an eyebrow. He chuckled softly, though it was a little strained. “You know, kid, I’ve got your back on that. Eve? Totally on sight.”

Sam, though, looked a bit more concerned.

“Y/N,” he started and you could already tell he was going to get all touchy feely and you weren’t exactly in the mood for it. You were actually in the mood to fight someone and thinking about Eve made you seethe.

“Okay, that’s it. I can’t do this anymore,” you cut Sam off muttering through gritted teeth. “I’m calling Cas.”

Both of your brothers’ eyes went wide, clearly startled by your sudden outburst. “Wait, wait—Cas? What are you doing?” Sam asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Dean, ever the protective older brother, had a look of horror. “Uh, you sure that’s a good idea? Cas is... I mean, I get it, but he’s not exactly... helpful when it comes to, you know, cramps and whatever else you’re dealing with. He’s gonna make everything way more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Dean, you have no idea,” you said, sitting up with effort. “You don’t get it. Cas knows stuff. He can probably tell me why the hell we’re cursed with this biological nonsense.”

You were already pulling your phone out of your pocket and texting Castiel without hesitation. Cas, get your grace in here now. I need answers.

Within minutes, the familiar sound of his arrival in the bunker echoed through the hall, and the next thing you knew, he was standing in front of you, his expression confused as ever.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, a little louder than necessary. “Cas! You’re just the angel I need.”

Sam’s face dropped in disbelief. “What are you doing?” he asked again, his voice almost pleading.

Dean sighed and rubbed his temples, but you could tell he was more than amused. “You’re killing me kid.”

You weren’t paying attention to them anymore, already sitting up slightly and glaring at Castiel with an intensity that only a woman going through hell on Earth could possess. “Cas! Maybe you can help me with something. Why did your father want to make me suffer?”

Castiel blinked, as lost as ever. “My father? I don’t—”

You were getting impatient. “God, Cas. I’m talking about periods and the suffering that comes with being a woman. Why did he do that to me?”

Castiel’s brows furrowed, clearly trying to make sense of your words. “I... I’m not entirely sure I understand...”

Sam had his face buried in his hands at this point in utter disbelief. “You really called Cas for this?”

You ignored him, still laser-focused on the angel. “Was it because Eve bit the apple? Because if that’s it, I swear to God, I’m going straight to her. I don’t care. I’m taking it up with her myself.”

You could practically hear Dean choking on his laughter in the background.

Castiel tilted his head, as if he were pondering your words like they were some grand cosmic mystery.

“Eve? The first woman?” he asked cautiously. “Well, yes, technically. Eve’s actions with the apple did cause certain... consequences.”

Your jaw dropped. “So, you’re telling me that because of Eve, I have to suffer through this every month?” You waved a hand at your cramping body in frustration. “Every month, Cas. You have no idea how bad this hurts.”

Castiel blinked again, processing. “Well, yes... it is an unfortunate result of the... fall from grace, so to speak. But, the suffering you feel... it is not a punishment. It is... well, a part of being human.”

You narrowed your eyes, not having the patience for his usual philosophical nonsense. “No, Cas. I don’t want some deep answer about ‘the human condition.’ I want to know where Eve is because I need to have words with her.”

Castiel looked at you like you had asked him to solve the mysteries of the universe. “Uh...”

You leaned in a little closer, determined to get some kind of answer. “Wait—were you even there when Eve was around?”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, and Castiel’s eyes flickered like he wasn’t sure how to answer. Finally, he spoke up. “Yes, I... I was there. But, I... I don’t believe I ever interacted with her much.”

You stared at him incredulously. “Okay so you didn’t even try to stop her either? So I can technically add you onto the list of people I need to have a word with?”

“Well,” he began, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I wasn’t exactly... allowed to interact with her.”

Sam was standing in the doorway by now, rubbing his eyes. “This is getting out of hand,” he muttered.

You raised an eyebrow, voice dripping with frustration. “Why do I have to suffer? Why does every woman on this planet have to go through this? I didn’t ask for this, you know?”

Castiel hesitated for a moment, the weight of your frustration clearly sinking in. “I... I will go and find answers for you,” he said, his usual confidence returning in a determined tone. “I will seek out more information on Eve, on why these consequences were set in motion.”

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden promise. “You will? Really?”

Castiel nodded solemnly. “Yes. I will leave now and return with the answers you seek.”

“Okay wait Cas! See if you can reverse it-” But before you could even finish, he disappeared with the familiar flutter of wings.

Sam turned to you with an exasperated sigh. “So... you really just called him and told him to find Eve?”

You nodded, arms crossed over your chest. “Hey, I figure if anyone knows where she’s hiding, it’s Cas. And if he’s going to keep dropping cryptic answers, maybe he can at least help fix this.”

Dean flopped back down next to you on the bed, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Just don’t be mad at me when Cas brings back some ancient scroll saying it was Eve’s fault.”

“I’ll be mad at everyone,” you said with a small laugh. “But mostly Eve.”

Dean gave you a soft smile, the lightheartedness back in his tone, though it was now tinged with a genuine concern. “Well, kid, if I had a magic wand, I’d wave it. But since I don’t, just know I’m here. If you need anything—anything—you know I got you, okay?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Thanks. I guess... I guess I’ll survive this, somehow.”

Dean grinned, sitting back down on the bed. “That’s the spirit. And hey, if you need a punching bag, Sam’s your man.”

Sam shot him a glare but then softened. “Don’t listen to him.”

You chuckled weakly, your mind desperate for a distraction from the pain. “You know what would make this day a little better?”

Dean raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“Legally Blonde,” you said with a sigh of relief, the thought of a lighthearted movie soothing your mind even if just a little.

Dean’s face lit up. “Sammy’s favorite.” He winked.

“Oh, I know. That’s why I picked it.” You said sending Dean an over exaggerated wink right back.

Sam groaned from the doorway, clearly not impressed. “Seriously, guys? Come on.”

You laughed despite yourself. “Come on, Sammy, I just know your bag was going to be full of pink sparkly pens at law school.”

Dean shot you a playful grin. “He was gonna walk into the courtroom and say, ‘Objection, Your Honor—this is unacceptable!’ and flip his hair dramatically.”

Sam glared at Dean, but it was obvious he was trying not to smile. He shook his head, muttering, “I can't even believe you two are making fun of me for wanting to be a lawyer. But fine, fine, let’s watch Legally Blonde.”

You settled back into the pillows with a satisfied sigh. “Great choice, Sammy. I knew you were cool under all that lawyer talk.”

Sam let out a reluctant laugh. “Alright, alright. But you guys better be ready for The Trial of the Century. Because Elle Woods? She’s gonna win this thing.”

And for the first time in hours, you felt a flicker of joy. It wasn’t about the cramps—it was about the three of you, trying to make light of the situation, and you realized, you’d survive this, one laugh at a time. Oh and hopefully with some answers from Cas!

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ellieslittleburrow · 9 months ago

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Resuested by @outof-spite : was wondering if you could do a winchester bros & little sister! reader where theyve been arguing constantly lately, and reader is usually combative and always argues back but, this time shes just over the arguing so she just gives up trying to argue with them and kinda goes mute?

Warnings : family fights, yelling

Pairings : Sam/Dean Winchester x sister!reader

A/N : Sorry for the late postt ❤️❤️

-----

Things happen, right? Misunderstandings, judgement, reproaches and blame, all of them, the worst thing that could happen to a family, more importantly-right now-to yours.

Back from a hunt gone bad, you heavily lay in the backseat of the impala, your feet hung over the left window while your head rests over the opposite side of the car.

"Hey-get your feet off my damn leather." A complaint you've heard one too many times, and one you usually fight but- this time, as a sigh leaves your lips, you uncross your legs and bring them down, consequently lifting your upper body to sit up. An avertion from your side that's different from your usual habits, causing the car to fall into heavily loud silence.

And although it is loud with almost audible thoughts and anger, you still enjoy that while it lasts.

And it fucking doesn't last, in fact, just as soon as you entered the motel, another sentence commenced by Sam sent Dean into a fury, and just as things heated up, you found yourself in the middle of it all-again-

"Hey!!-" The shout is directed at you, this you know and choose to disguard. You would answer but- your body is fatigued and so is our mind, answering seems to lead to no vail. You answer, he fights you, you all go to sleep and wake up forcebly normalizing things, as if your throats aren't sore and your brains aren't fried.

"Hey-i'm talking to you-"

The words sound more bitter this time around, and you find yourself reluctantly lifting your gaze up . You look at Dean, slow and undetermined, exhausted.

"I asked you why you did that-You could've waited for us. I know you said there was no time le-" Dean pauses. "And fucking answer me when i talk to you-"

You shrug, causing a choking gasp out of Dean. His eyes widen and he leans forward. "Are you-Is she provok-are you-"

You throw your jacket over the bed, disdain discerned in your every move and you flop on the bed, unaware of the sudden tension that-again- suddenly settles in.

But the thing is--You don't care anymore. You haven't enough energy to get you to fight them once more, neither to explain or defend yourself. Too damn fucking tired is what you are at the moment-Too damn tired of it all.

"Kid?"

You rest your hand over your forehead, closing your eyes in an effort to soothe your aching muscles, and maybe suck in a little more patience.

"Kid."

Your stomach tightens and soon, you'll recess into a bawling mess, so you get off the bed and pick up your jacket.

Please don't lead to another fight, please..You just want it all to be ov-

"What's wrong?"

You shrug once more, shaking your head to motion that all is fine before heading for the door. But Sam comes your way, blocking the door and you blow a long sigh.

"Come here"

Sam grips both of your arms and swiftly-you find yourself glued to his chest. But all happens all too fast-why would he suddenly get all feely- and before you even realize it, you find yourself pushing against him.

"'im sorry-i'm sorry."

A lump builds up in your throat and as flashes of the past few weeks occupy every single space in your brain, your breathing increases-just as it gets harder to breathe. Just the thought of it all_

Your eyes are slowly flooded with warmth, announcing the tears gathering at your eyes. You need to leave. You need to go.

You choke on a sob.

You can't do this anym- "I know, honey. I've been there. I know." And with that, another sob loudly escapes your throat and a whimper follows.

"i've been there with Dad, i didn't realize we were doing that to you-i'm sorry. I see you. I really am sorry."

You shake your head as your cries fill the room, getting increasingly louder the harder Sam rubs your back. But that's not what you need. Not for them to see you-but for them to fucking stop.

"We'll stop. We'll talk. I promise."

You pull away from him, skeptical of a promise you doubt he can hold. And just as you're about to process that, Dean speaks.

"I'm sorry too." His honest tone makes you sigh. This isn't.what.i.want.

"Sam and i are sort've used to it- we lost sight of the fact that it wasn't affecting just us, but you as well. I really am sorry." Sam looks into your eyes and you slightly lean back, averting your gaze.

"It must've been really stresstful for you the past few weeks." Taken aback by his words, you pull your chin away from his hand and turn around, wiping at your tears before resting your hand against your forehead.

"we're sorry, kid."

You shrug, still mistrusftul. Mistrustful but hopeful. Because Sam and Dean are different, fights and bad things might accure but no matter how disconnected from each other they might be, they always come back to each other. And you are no different. You know them well enough.

Your silence is apprehended as anger. "Okay..We understand, we'll leave."

But it's not anger and it's most certainly not hatred. So you envelop Sam again and bury your face in his chest.

Maybe that'll be enough for him to understand?

His surprise manifests through his still figure. "Thank you, honey." That surprise quickly dissipates and he hugs you back. "It..."

"it's going to be okay, honey. We'll make it okay."

------

I hope it isn't too cringe or too cliché because like-who would say sorry in under a minute. But yeah anyway much love sorry byyiii 🍁🍁🍁❤️❤️❤️

#sister!reader #sibling fic #sister x brothers #winchester sister #daughter x father #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #adoptive father troop #daughter!reader #father figure fic #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister #sam winchester x sister reader #baby winchester #sister reader #sister fic #spn fics #protective brothers #overprotective brothers

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captonite · 1 day ago

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Didn’t Think I Mattered

Supernatural | Sachi Winchester | Angst & Comfort CW: trauma, past child abuse, memory projection, verbal/emotional abuse from John Winchester, guilt, comfort, hurt/comfort, siblings

The sigils glow gold.

Latin hums in the air. The circle of salt and blood at the center of the war room is pulsing faintly, flickering like a heartbeat. It was supposed to be a memory revelation ritual — one Castiel swore was stable. They needed the truth about a rogue angel’s last moments, and this was the only spell that could do it.

Cas had drawn the lines carefully. Sachi had only been there to help.

But something had gone wrong.

Because when the light flares — it isn’t the angel’s memory that floods into the bunker.

It’s hers.

It starts with static.

Then cold concrete. A motel hallway, dimly lit by a flickering bulb. The air smells like mildew and gasoline. And down the hall— A small girl, barefoot, hugging her knees. Her lip is split.

Dean’s breath catches.

He knows this place. He remembers it. But not like this. Not this angle. Not this tiny, crumpled figure trying to disappear against the wallpaper.

It’s Sachi. Maybe ten years old. Hiding outside the motel room door.

Then—his voice.

John Winchester.

“You think I’m doing this for fun?” The sound of a fist hitting something — maybe a wall, maybe the dresser. Sachi flinches, curls smaller.

“You think I want to be dragging around three kids when I should be out there killing things that matter?”

Inside, someone whimpers. It’s her.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to? You ever stop to think I don’t care what you mean?”

“Dad—”

“Don’t you dare call me that right now. You’re not a soldier. You’re a burden.”

The bunker is silent. Even Cas stops breathing. Sam’s hands curl into fists, white-knuckled.

Dean’s voice is barely audible. “This—this wasn’t supposed to be hers.”

“She was just helping with the spell,” Cas whispers. “It must’ve latched onto an unresolved pain. Something buried.”

They watch, helpless, as John stomps into view and yanks the door open. The little girl doesn’t even scream when he grabs her arm.

“You don’t follow orders. You don’t listen. You think your brothers didn’t pay for that?”

“I’m sorry,” Sachi whispers, trembling.

“You’re not sorry. You’re useless. You weren’t even supposed to be here.”

He shoves her against the wall. The sound of her head hitting it is soft, but sickening.

“You ruined everything the second you were born.”

And then—

Silence. The memory snaps like glass.

---

The spell ends. But it leaves something jagged behind.

No one speaks.

Sachi’s standing off to the side, eyes wide, skin pale. She’s not crying — not really — but her whole body is trembling like a deer in headlights.

Dean opens his mouth. Closes it again.

Sam looks sick.

Cas reaches for her first. “Sachi—”

“I’m fine,” she says, too quickly. Her voice is thin. Raw. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I shouldn’t have—”

“Chubs.” Dean takes a step forward.

She flinches.

And Dean breaks. Just a little.

“We didn’t know,” Sam says, voice cracked and hollow. “We didn’t know he ever—”

“Of course you didn’t. Why would you?” Her laugh is sharp and painful. “You guys always thought I had it easy. Thought he spoiled me like Adam. That’s why you hated me for a while, right?”

Dean’s jaw clenches. “We didn’t hate you.”

“You just… ignored me. Treated me like I was nothing. Like I didn’t belong.”

Sam’s eyes sting. “We were angry at Dad.”

“You took it out on me.”

Another beat.

Then she looks up, tears finally falling, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t think I mattered enough to tell you.”

That’s when Dean moves.

He doesn’t even think — just crosses the space between them and pulls her into his arms, clutching the back of her head like she’s bleeding out.

“Don’t you ever say that again.” His voice is wrecked. “You mattered. You’ve always mattered.”

Sachi doesn’t answer. Just collapses against him and sobs, fingers curling in the back of his jacket like she’s five years old again and afraid of thunder.

Sam’s hand lands gently on her back. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice shaking. “I’m so sorry we didn’t see it. I swear to God, if I’d known—”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I should’ve known.”

Dean presses his lips to her hair. “He never touched you again, right? After that night?”

“No.” Her voice breaks. “Just that once. But that was enough.”

They stay like that for a long time.

---

Later, the three of them sit in the library — curled up on the couch, a blanket over Sachi’s legs. Dean’s got a beer, untouched. Sam’s rubbing her knuckles absentmindedly like he’s still grounding himself.

She speaks first.

“You know what’s messed up?”

Dean raises a brow.

“I thought maybe he didn’t love me because I wasn’t tough enough. So I tried to be. I learned how to shoot, I cleaned weapons, I memorized lore like my life depended on it.”

Sam’s face twists.

“But it didn’t matter. Because he didn’t want a daughter. He wanted a soldier. And I wasn’t one.”

“You are now,” Dean says.

“That’s not a good thing.”

They fall silent.

Until Sam says, softly: “We can’t fix the past. But we can show you now. You matter, Chubs. You’re not some mistake. You’re our sister.”

Dean clinks his beer against Sam’s. “Our baby sister.”

She snorts, tearfully. “Even now?”

“Especially now.”

Dean smirks. “Now more than ever. We’re gonna smother you with so much love it’ll be disgusting.”

“Please don’t.”

“Too bad. You unlocked it. You’re screwed now.”

She laughs — soft and broken and real.

And for the first time in hours, the bunker feels warm again.

Later that night, after she falls asleep between them on the couch, Dean whispers:

“She really thought she didn’t matter.”

Sam doesn’t look up. “That’s on us.”

“She deserved better.”

“She still does.”

Dean’s voice cracks. “We give it to her now, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, placing a hand over hers. “Every damn day.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural angst #supernatural fluff

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musubi05 · 2 months ago

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╰┈➤ Left Out

Team Free Will x Winchester's sister!reader

Castiel x platonic!reader

Summary: Sam and Dean have been ignoring you but Castiel still tries to include you.

Warnings: None

Age: 14-16

The bunker felt colder than usual. Not in temperature - no, the heat still hummed through the old pipes and radiators - but in the way people spoke, or didn’t.

You sat in the war room, fingers wrapped around a lukewarm mug of coffee, watching the glow of the map table flicker faintly. Sam and Dean were down the hall, voices low, laughter occasional, but they hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to you in days.

Not since the last hunt went sideways. Not since the salt rounds ran out and Dean had to pull you out of that abandoned house half-conscious. Not since Sam blamed you for missing the sigil that would’ve ended things faster.

You didn’t fight back. You understood. At least, you thought you did.

Still, it hurt.

"You're not invisible."

You turned your head quickly, startled by the voice - low, gravelly, calm. Castiel stood at the edge of the room, trench coat rumpled as always, blue eyes studying you carefully.

“They’re just… processing,” he added. “But that doesn’t make it right to leave you alone.”

You tried to smile. “I’m used to it.”

Cas tilted his head. “That doesn’t mean you should be.”

He crossed the room, pulling out the chair beside you. It creaked under him as he sat, hands folded in his lap like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I brought something,” he said, suddenly awkward. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, battered paperback book.

“‘The Ballad of Reading Gaol,’” you read from the cover.

“It’s one of my favorites. I thought… maybe we could read it together.”

You blinked. “You want to read poetry with me?”

He nodded. “Oscar Wilde understood being misunderstood.”

You laughed - an honest, soft sound you hadn’t heard from yourself in a while.

Sam and Dean passed by the door once. Neither of them looked in. But Castiel didn’t notice - or if he did, he didn’t care.

He read the first stanza aloud. His voice was rough around the edges, not smooth like a trained narrator, but full of heart.

And for the first time in days, the silence wasn’t so lonely.

You leaned back in your chair, letting Castiel’s steady voice fill the empty space around you. The bunker’s hum and the distant clatter of Dean digging through the fridge faded into the background.

Cas paused after a few pages, his thumb keeping the book open. He looked at you carefully. “You’re still upset.”

It wasn’t really a question, but you nodded anyway, blinking down at your coffee. It was cold now. Bitter.

“I don't know what to do,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “They don’t trust me. Maybe they never did.”

Castiel frowned, a deep line forming between his brows. “You made a mistake. So have they. More times than they would admit.”

You managed a bitter laugh. “Yeah, but they always forgive each other. I’m just… the outsider.”

Castiel closed the book gently. He shifted in his seat so he was facing you more fully. “You are not expendable. You are not forgotten.” He hesitated, like he was weighing his next words carefully. “You are family, whether they acknowledge it right now or not.”

You didn’t realize your hands were trembling until he reached out and covered one with his own. His touch was warm, grounding.

“Maybe…” you said, voice cracking, “maybe it’s time to stop waiting for them to come around.”

Cas’s gaze softened. “Or maybe it’s time to remind them what they’re about to lose.”

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you pushed your chair back and stood. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you crossed the bunker hallway. You spotted Sam and Dean in the library, heads bent over a lore book.

They barely glanced up.

You cleared your throat. Loudly.

Dean finally looked up. His face was unreadable, guarded in a way that only made the ache in your chest worse.

Sam set his pen down, careful, deliberate. “Hey,” he said, like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t been freezing you out.

You folded your arms. “You’re mad. Fine. I get it. But if you’ve decided I’m not part of this anymore, just say it to my face.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. Sam opened his mouth, but for once, he didn’t have a ready answer.

“I nearly died trying to help you,” you continued, voice rising. “I made a mistake. But so have you—both of you. Hell, Dean, you’ve died more times than I can count, and we never left you behind.”

Dean’s expression cracked, just a little. His shoulders slumped.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, guilt flashing across his face. “(Y/N)… we never meant to…”

“Didn’t you?” you shot back. “Because it sure felt like it.”

There was a long, aching pause.

Then Dean stood up slowly. “You’re right,” he said, voice rough. “You’re right. We screwed up.”

Sam gave a small, miserable nod. “We were scared. And we took it out on you. That’s not family. That’s not how this works.”

You stared at them for a long moment, every instinct screaming to turn around and leave them standing there.

But then Castiel was there behind you, a quiet, steady presence. Not pushing you either way - just… there.

You took a breath. “I’m not going to fight for a place you don’t want me in,” you said. “But I’m not going to disappear, either.”

Dean looked at you, real regret in his eyes. “We want you here. We’ve just been... idiots.”

Sam offered a small, almost sheepish smile. “Can you forgive us?”

You felt the crack in your heart start to mend, just a little. Not fully - but enough.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just walked forward and dropped heavily into a chair at the table. You looked up at them, daring them to do better.

Dean smirked faintly. “So... pizza and bad horror movies later?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Only if Cas gets to pick the movie.”

Cas, still behind you, looked startled. “I have many selections.”

Sam groaned playfully. “We’re doomed.”

You finally smiled for real. “Good. You deserve it.”

And for the first time in days, the bunker didn’t feel so cold anymore.

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inlovewhithafairytale · 1 year ago

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POV: Dating Dean Winchester....

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samsblades · 6 months ago

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✶ . ၄၃ . easy, maybe — sam and dean w.

cw : gn!winchester!reader, hurt/comfort, reader’s the middle sibling, peacekeeper/selfless(?) reader, blood, injury & pain, stitches, nicknames (bud), poorly edited, no y/n, 3K words. requested !

summary : you try to hide a bad injury after a hunt. sam and dean patch you up, and spend the night worrying until you wake.

it’s not as hard being easy as some people might think. maybe that’s because it’s all you know how to be. the easy one, the quiet one, the peacekeeper, the blend into the background and don’t worry about me one. and it’s not that you’re weak-willed or unopinionated; there are times when you put your foot down, times when you argue, times when you’re petty or annoying or grumpy because you’re legitimately upset or possibly just a little too hungry.

one must note that easy does not mean perfect. it just means that you let sam ride shotgun despite being two years older. it means you take the couch most nights, you’re often impressively polite, and you patch up your own injuries in the bathroom before helping your brothers out. it means you let annoying little things slide, you pick up food when the other two are too tired to drive, you take care of the most tedious or boring tasks, and you tend not to get into any trouble with law enforcement or regular citizens. life is just easier for you all when sam and dean don’t have to worry about you too much.

naturally, you’ve developed quite a pain tolerance over the years of hunting and killing and nearly being killed; all three of you have. but you have become concerningly and particularly excellent at hiding wounds. it’s mostly about the breathing, you’ve decided. if you can hide the blood, move without any apparent stiffness, and keep your breathing even and normal, then sam and dean tend not to notice. they’ve got enough to worry about, you think.

but, unfortunately, there's certain things you can't quite hide, no matter how good of a little actor you can be. there's just far too much blood, more than you think you've ever bled from any one wound. it's not arterial, that much you know; you're familiar enough with basic anatomy to understand that a knife to your lower left side shouldn't be piercing any main veins or arteries. but it is soaking through your jacket and you're getting lightheaded. and you're almost to the impala, you remind yourself. you can make it that far, you're sure. if you just keep breathing, watching dean's trudging form as the distance between the two of you grows while your sluggish footsteps slow... if you just keep breathing, you're sure you can make it.

the leaves under your feet hush your footsteps, soft and soaked from this morning’s rain. dean doesn't question the fact that he can't hear you right behind him; you're quiet nearly all the time. the growing fog in your head makes you stumble. you slip, deprived of the bearings or stability you'd need to right yourself. the softened soil welcomes the crumple of your body, but your cheek scrapes on a ragged twig embedded in the ground. the dampness of the earth swallows any loudness to your fall, the little strangled noise that leaves your lips in surprise and hot white pain. the twig that draws a line of blood across your cheek doesn't even snap.

but you can't fall in complete silence; there's a rustle and a dull thud and dean's ears are attuned to listen for you and sam. he hears your grunt of pain, regardless of how quiet the sound is. he's immediately on high alert, spinning around and holding his gun at the ready. for split second, he thinks you've disappeared completely. he didn't know you'd been falling behind, twilight is ending, and your brown jacket melts into the color of the ground. but he's got keen eyes and spots you quickly.

"shit," he curses under his breath, all but sprinting back to you, long legs clearing logs and rocks without any fuss. before he's dropped to his knees by your side, he's already asking, "hey, hey, hey, talk to me, bud. what happened?"

you've managed to twist over onto your back by the time he gets there, though not without much effort. there's dirt clinging to the side of your face and wet leaves stuck to your clothes. it's become too dark for dean to see the spread of blood on your jacket.

"just a... just a cut," you breathe out. your voice doesn't sound quite right and it sets off blaring alarms in dean's head.

"where?" he demands, not harshly. his flashlight clicks on and you squint at the sudden brightness. he doesn't need you to answer. his free hand doesn't hesitate to move your bloodied jacket out of the way, and he sucks in a sharp breath before he even sees the full extent of the wound. his fingers gather up your soaked through shirt and gently peel the fabric away from your skin. "jesus, what the hell? when did this happen? just a cut?" he asks, bewildered and beyond concerned.

"b-before," you answer unhelpfully. "it's fine. help me up." you don't feel fine at all. your head pounds and your limbs are heavy and your voice is tight with pain.

dean scoffs, pulling off his jacket with an almost panicked urgency. "you were stabbed, are you crazy?" he accuses, sounding much more worried than actually angry. he messily folds up his jacket, not hesitating to push it against your wound, not so gentle in an effort to slow the bleeding. you grunt and he frowns deeper.

"more like a… a slash… less- less stabby. 's not that bad," you mumble, completely unconvincing.

dean's jaw clenches like he disagreed. "sammy'll fix you up," is all he says. "c'mon, let's get you up. you'll be just fine." dean knows that you prefer patching yourself up. he knows that you don't like letting them see you injured. but this is bad, he thinks, and his blood boils and his heart lurches at the thought that you tried to hide it.

sam, stuck in the motel with his healing broken arm, doesn’t expect much but a “we’re on the way back” sort of phone call from dean when he answers the ringing tone. dean himself is barely paying any attention to the phone. he should be paying attention to the road, but his eyes flick over to you often, and linger for too long. the first thing that sam hears over the phone is the muffled honk of a car horn.

then comes a quiet, “shit. i’m sorry, bud. you’re alright,” from dean. he doesn’t hear the little sound of pain you made when dean had to swerve the car.

“dean?” sam says, voice plainly worried. dean sounds off. “what’s going on?”

“sammy,” dean breathes, uncharacteristically afraid, “they’re bleeding bad. need you to be ready to stitch ‘em up when we get there. five minutes.”

“where? how bad?” sam asks in a rush, already standing and searching for a medical kit. there’s one on the coffee table.

“lower left side,” dean answers, voice a bit more sure when he can actually give a solid, factual answer. then it falters. “just– bad. real bad. they’re barely awake.”

“dammit,” sam mutters. he wants to ask what happened, but dean sounds like he’s driving recklessly through the panic of your injury. he doesn’t want to add anything else for him to think about. “you sure you shouldn’t be headed to the hospital?”

dean shakes his head, then glances at you and your heavy lidded eyes. “nearest one’s too far. you’re closer.”

“okay. alright. just– just drive safe and keep them talking,” sam says at the risk of angering dean in his precarious mental state. asking him to drive safe is a bit silly, and he already knows to keep you talking.

but dean doesn’t retort, he just spares you another glance. “keep those eyes open for me,” he urges, leaving it up to sam to hang up the phone. he only does so in order to focus on gathering the right supplies for you. and when the impala pulls up into the parking space right in front of tonight’s motel room, sam’s waiting outside by the pale yellow door with a janky metal ‘17’ on the front. he’s at the passenger’s side before dean’s even turned the car off.

you’re leaning against the car door, so he’s precise and careful when he opens it, reaching in with one hand first and cupping the side of your neck to keep you steady while he slips in closer to you.

“hey,” he says gently, hiding his fear. he’s not sure he can deal with all this shit without you. you’ve always been such a steadying presence. dean’s jacket that you keep clutched to your wound with shaky hands is all bloodied, and the only thing sam knows is that dean said it’s real bad.

dean’s there, opening the door the rest of the way so that sam can bend down and pull you into his arms. first goes your head to his chest, then his arms wrapping around your shoulders and tucking under your knees.

“there we go,” sam murmurs, wincing softly when the movement pulls a groan of pain from your lips. “can you talk to me?” he’s swift and gentle in his movements, getting you through the door and to the bed with the least amount of discomfort for you that he can.

“it’s okay, sammy,” you mumble in response to his request. of course that’s what you’d say. dean frowns, barely able to hear your words despite how close behind sam he hovers.

“yeah,” sam agrees, laying you out on the bed, pulling the ruined jacket away from your wound and gently moving your own clothing out of the way. it’s not a pretty sight, but the bleeding’s slowed enough for him to see that maybe it’s not as bad as they thought. stitches should do the trick, you’re just all messed up from the blood loss. “it is okay,” he confirms, “you’ll be okay.”

as he soaks a clean rag with alcohol, sam wonders when the last time he’s stitched you up was. it must’ve been a while ago. he even can’t easily think of the last time he helped you deal with any injury. right now, it’s his job to stay calm and patch you up, but the way you said it’s okay, sammy, made him want to act a bit like the baby of the family. he wants to hug you. it doesn’t make him feel small, though, just extra responsible for making sure you’ll be alright. you’re always taking care of him and dean, even if it’s just in the smaller ways, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t fix this for you.

dean’s hands are far more tender than usual as he holds yours. sam cleans your wound, and you don’t react much. it worries them both, but sam assures that it’s not as bad as it seemed before.

the cast over sam’s wrist and forearm doesn’t make giving you stitches all that easy, but he manages. his big hands are somehow always much nimbler than dean’s, the stitches he produces less crude. but no matter how used to the feeling of a few stitches you are, once he gets to the sixth, you’re not sure you can stay awake any longer. you hate the feeling of the needle and thread going through your skin.

you give dean’s hand a weak squeeze. “’m gonna pass out,” you slur in warning. his eyes widen in worry. sam tries to stay focused, but his frown deepens. he’d much rather you didn’t, but he thinks you’ll be alright.

“hey, hey, hey, no. stay with us,” dean urges, brushing his fingers over your forehead. “you’re fine now, just stay awake, bud. look at me.” you meet his gaze with drooping eyelids and a weak frown. you feel bad for making him worry like this.

“’m sorry,” you mumble, “so tired.” you close your eyes against his wishes, and your hand goes limp in his.

“dammit,” sam whispers, noticing the way your muscles all go slack. dean’s not so quiet when he curses, standing up angrily. as sam finishes the stitches, dean paces, hands in fists.

“it’s my damn fault, sammy,” he growls. if sam looked up, the tears in dean’s otherwise angry eyes would betray his blatant concern for you. “i wasn’t paying attention.” sam worries now that dean’ll start throwing things. he doesn’t deal well with his little siblings getting hurt.

“they’re okay. seriously,” sam insists. really though, he’s worried out of his mind. freaking out won’t help him give you effective stitches, so he just focuses on the silent promise he’s made to take care of you. “they’ll heal. the stitches will be enough,” he says, instead of asking what happened to avoid upsetting dean further. dean returns to your side just as sam finishes the last stitch. he dresses the wound with a bit of help from dean, but mostly, the oldest just combs through loose strands of your hair, picking out dried leaves and twigs. dean cleans the little cut on your face too, wiping away the dirt from when you fell.

he holds you gently upright as sam trades your bloodstained jacket and top for a simple long sleeve crewneck shirt to keep you comfortable and warm as you rest. he monitors your pulse and constantly checks your breathing, and his nervous behavior doesn’t go unnoticed by dean. but your heartbeat remains steady and the soft sound of your breathing is the only thing that can be heard at times. it’s comforting to them both, taking turns by your side, though they’re most certainly overly concerned now that your body is set to start mending.

you sleep a long while, long enough that dean starts pacing again when he tires of sitting on the edge of the other bed with his head in his hands. sam sits in a chair by your side. he dozes lightly for a bit, until the sun rises and brightens the room through half opened curtains. dean’s asleep on the couch when sam comes back around, despite the completely free bed. when he wakes, dean makes coffee for him and sam, brooding the whole while. he still looks like he’s holding back the urge to throw a rickety motel chair into the wall, but he’s a bit more blatantly anxious than angry by now. he holds your hand for a little while before you wake up.

you start to stir at 9:37 in the morning, which means you’ve been sleeping for almost ten hours. sam had checked the time when you passed out, in the midst of all his worry as he stitched you up. but no one catches the time. you, of course, are not checking the time. you’re barely awake. dean doesn’t think to check the time, he’s much more concerned about the light rustle of the bed sheets that he hears coming from your direction. and sam is drying his hands in the bathroom. he probably wouldn’t care to check the time either even if he were standing right by the clock. he hears dean say your name through the thin bathroom door, quiet and nervous. the hand towel slips off the rack in his rush to get to you.

dean’s sitting by your side, both of his hands wrapping around yours. “hey,” he murmurs, soft and glad to see your eyelids fluttering. you see the water stained ceiling of the motel room and feel the end of the bed dipping by your feet, then a big, soft hand on your shin. that’s sam. dean’s the one holding your hand.

you try to say hey back, but it comes out as a hoarse groan. your throat is very dry. so you just squeeze dean’s hand back as best as you can. one of his hands leaves yours to rest on your tired head. you look over and offer him a little smile. he feels a rush of affection as you meet his gaze like that, and a little bit of guilt for always letting you be the best of them. the quietest and the easiest. he doesn’t know what to do with those feelings, so he asks a sweet, almost teary looking sam to go grab you some water. he does so without a qualm, tries to help you take a sip, and relents with a subtle pout when you refuse the help. you’re insistent about holding that cup for yourself.

“let me help you,” he murmurs, voice all soft. he sounds extra young right now, as his hands try to hold the cup and your head up for you. you grab the cup, shaking your head despite being plagued by a pounding ache at your temples.

“mm-mm,” you hum a no, as if it bothers you that he’s trying to use his hand in a cast to help. you’re truly just that stubborn that it makes you strong enough to hold the cup with your own shaky hands. sam’s hand hovers nearby anyway. when you’ve taken a good drink, and the water starts to slosh a bit because you’re having a hard time holding it steady, dean takes it from you and sets it on the bedside table.

“you gave us a good little scare there,” he murmurs, voice gentler than usual. he doesn’t even pretend to sound annoyed. sam thinks his demeanor is a bit funny now, considering how much of a mess dean was last night and before you woke. but he easily lets it slide for right now. without a doubt, you’re his main concern.

“sorry,” you mumble, still sort of smiling.

“don’t,” sam scolds softly. “don’t be sorry.” it seems to him like you’re always willing to take the fall, fix the problem, ease the tension. right now, he’d rather you just let him and dean take care of everything for you. you look like you want to protest, keep apologizing for making them worry, but he grabs your free hand as a means to stop you. dean gives your hand a little squeeze to punctuate the same sentiment.

you have nothing to be sorry for. and they are very grateful for you. losing you scares them more than anything, and for a moment, they will both be a bit vulnerable and ask for you to do the same by holding your hands tight for just a little while.

“okay,” you murmur. you won’t be sorry. i love you, too, you’re saying.

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