#Sam winchester x ofc
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shower power â sam winchester

kinktober day 1, summary - after a long hunt, sam pulls you into the shower at a shared motel room, where dean could walk in. his large hands grip your hair as he takes you against the shower wall, making you keep quiet. warnings - no use of y!n, lower case intended. word count - 1,5k. take me back to main kinktober masterlist;
hiii angels, i feel like this sucks because i rushed it:((((
ââ
the door of the motel room shut behind you with a thud, the click of the lock barely audible over the pounding of your heart. all three if you had been through hell tonightâblood, sweat, and tension thick in the airâbut even after the hunt, something more primal lingered between you. it had been building for days. maybe weeks.
dean's voice drifted behind you to the other side of the room, muttering something about the bed and the tv, but you couldn't focus. you needed a shower, something to wash away the grimeâand the tension that coiled tightly in your chest.
without a word, you made your way to the bathroom. the door creaked open, and you barely had a chance to turn on the water when you felt sam's presence behind you. before you could say anything, he locked the bathroom door behind him and his large hand gripped your arm, pulling you back into the small space with him.
"sam," you whispered, barely able to get his name out before he backed you against the tiled wall in the shower, the cold seeping through your clothes as his lips crashed down on yours with an intensity that left you breathless.
"shh," he murmured against your lips, his voice a low, gravelly warning. "dean's right outside." his hand slid up to your jaw, his thumb pressed against your cheek and the rest of his fingers spread to where your head met the neck, not squeezing, but holding you in place as his lips moved to your ear, teeth grazing your skin. "you're gonna have to be quiet."
your breath hitched as his words sent a thrill through you. you were planning on taking care of yourself in the shower, not wanting to disturb sam, but apparently he had the same idea, as his other hand was already working on your clothes, rough and fast, tugging them away as if they were in his wayâbecause they were. and the moment the both of you undressed each other, throwing shirts and pants away, the shower sputtered to life, the perfect temperature water hitting your skin, already forgotten in the heat of the moment.
sam pressed you harder against the wall, his broad frame caging you in. his hands found their way back to the both sides of your face, cradling you. you bit down on your bottom lip to keep from making a sound, but when one of his hand slipped between your legs, and teased your already wet and sensitive lips, a gasp escaped your throat.
"quiet," he growled, his voice thick with desire as his long middle finger moved, sliding up and down on you, his other hand still gripping your jaw, tilting your head back. his lips found your throat, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks that would last for days. "or he'll hear everything."
you whimpered, trying to stay as quiet as you could, nodding as his hand left your jaw and grabbed your leg, pulling it around his waist. the pressure of his body against yours had you already seeing stars, the friction of his long finger making it nearly impossible to stay silent. every stroke, every touch from him sent fire through your veins, even when he still hadn't entered you properly.
"sammy please," you whisper, bringing your hands and gripping his shoulders, head tilted back and eyes closed in pleasure.
sam hums, "please what, sweetheart," he murmurs against your neck close to your ear, his fingers gripped your hip so tight you were sure there'd be bruises tomorrow, but you didn't care. all you could think about was how badly you needed him. the water from the shower sprayed around you both, the heat adding to the intensity of the moment, but it did nothing to cool the burning inside you.
"i need you inside of me, please, sammy, please" you whimper, pleasure given just from his finger slowly building up.
sam's lips were on you again, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip before his teeth grazed it. "you like this, don't you?" he whispered, his breath ragged. "the thought of dean being able to hear, the risk of us being caught." his hand tightened on your jaw, not enough to hurt you, but enough to manhandle you, pulling your head back to look into his eyes. "you love it."
you could only nod, your throat too tight with need to speak. your body ached for him, every touch sending you spiraling, but his control over you, the way he made you desperate and yet forced you to stay quiet, only made the moment more intense. water poured over the two of you, slowly washing away the dirt.
"alright then," he murmured, "let me take care of you sweetheart." he said and with swift movements he picked you up wrapping your legs around his waist, you whined as you felt his finger disappear from your cunt, but let out a gasp as soon as you felt him align his already pulsing cock against your entrance. you wanted to moan, to plead him to do it faster but you knew if you did dean would hear, so you stayed quiet, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck.
he then kissed you, like a man starving, nothing about this kiss was soft, teeth clashing and pulling, without a warning sam thrust into you, hard and full as he bottomed out, your gasp and his groan being swallowed by each others mouths. you couldn't hold on to him like this anymore so you brought your left hand to rest on the wall nearest you, which happened to be the glass.
sam did not waist any more second. his forehead pressed to yours, his jaw clenched as he fought for control. his thrusts were slow, deliberate at first, drawing out every sensation, every wave of pleasure. you could feel his breath on your lips, heavy and ragged, as he fought to keep himself quiet, too. you bit down on his shoulder to muffle the sound that threatened to escape as he picked up his pace, your nails digging into his back. each movement was rougher, more intense, his control unraveling with every second.
the tension in the room was heavy enough that you could cut it with a knife, the sound of water hitting the tile barely enough to drown out your heavy breaths, as sam continued to thrust into you, the eye contact with him was intensifying the aura around. you were both teetering on the edge, desperately trying to stay silent, but it was impossible to contain the raw energy that was about to break between you.
you cant contain your moan as he shifts and now hitting your gspot repeatedly, all you could thing about was him, sam, sam, sam, sam, sam as the pleasure built up.
"fuck," sam grunted, his head dropping to your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin. his hand snaked up to cover your mouth, his lips pressing to your ear. "i said... keep quiet."
you nodded, not being able to say anything e,se as your mouth hang open behind his hand but no sound came out, eyes rolling back as he thrust harder, his pace relentless now. the pressure built inside you, and built and built and built, your whole body tightening, but the intensity, the risk, the sheer need that filled the roomâit was too much. you could barely hold back the sounds threatening to break free.
sam's grip on you tightened as he growled low in your ear, he could feel you clenching around him, he knew you were close and fuck if you kept clenching around him like that he was sure he would cum right at that moment as his movements becoming erratic, more urgent. and then, you vision blurred, your body shaking with the force of your release as he buried himself deeper into you. the sound of your muffled moan against his hand only spurred him on, his own release crashing through him moments later and right in you. his body trembled against yours, his grip finally loosening as you both came down from the high, the water still pouring over you both.
for a moment, you stayed like thatâbreathless, tangled together, hearts racing.
then, with a smirk, sam pulled away, his hand still resting on your hip as he pressed a kiss to your temple.
"next time," he whispered, voice hoarse, "we'll get our own room."
you couldn't help but laugh softly, even as you struggled to catch your breath. the sound of dean grumbling from the other room filtered through the door, and you knew he probably heard more than he let on.
but right now, you didn't care. all you could think about was samâhis touch, his intensityâand the way you knew you were already waiting for the next one.
#fanfic#x reader#supernatural kinktober#kinktober#sam winchester kinktober#sam winchester x ofc#sam winchester x you#sam winchester oneshot#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester#sam winchester smut
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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 didâsomeone who could crack a joke to lift your spirits when it seemed like the world was falling apart.
But Sam... Sam hadnât taken kindly to it.
You didnât 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 didnât make sense.
The tension in the air was thick, suffocating. Every time you walked into a room, Samâs 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 couldnât 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 couldnât take it anymore.
"Sam," you called out gently, hoping to break the tension. "Are we okay? Youâve 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 Samâs eyes.
"You've been spending a lot of time with Dean lately," Sam said, his voice colder than youâd ever heard it.
You blinked in confusion, wondering where this was going. "Yeah, weâve just been talking, Sam. You know, just... having some down time. Weâve all been through a lot lately."
Samâs eyes darkened. "You think I donât 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 canât believe youâd do this."
You froze, your stomach dropping as realization hit. "Sam, what are you talking about?" you asked, your voice trembling.
"Iâm talking about you two!" he snapped. "Youâve been sneaking around behind my back, havenât you? Spending time with him, laughing with him, while Iâm over here trying to hold it all together, trying to keep things from falling apart, and youâ"
"Sam!" you cut him off, standing up abruptly, your heart pounding in your chest. "Iâm not cheating on you. Iâm not doing anything behind your back! Youâve been acting like Iâm doing something wrong, and I donât know why. Iâve been talking to Dean, yes, but thatâs it."
Samâs eyes narrowed, the hurt in them cutting through you like a knife. "So, you expect me to believe that? After everything weâve been through? You think Iâm just going to sit here and pretend itâs nothing? Itâs 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 donât have anything. Deanâs my friend, just like you are. But you... youâve been acting like Iâm doing something wrong. Why are you so jealous? Why do you think Iâd ever hurt you like that?"
Sam didnât 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 donât know," he admitted quietly. "I just... I saw you two laughing together, and it made me feel like I wasnât 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, youâll never lose me. Youâre not losing me to Dean, or to anyone else. Youâre the one I want. Youâve always been the one I want."
He looked up at you, his eyes filled with pain, confusion, and regret. "Iâm sorry," he muttered, his voice breaking. "I shouldâve trusted you. I shouldâve known better than to let my jealousy get in the way of us. I just... I didnât want to lose you."
You took his hand gently in yours, squeezing it softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "You havenât lost me, Sam. You wonât. But you have to trust me. You have to trust that Iâm not going anywhere. That what I feel for you is real, and Iâm not going to hurt you."
For a moment, Sam didnât respond. Then, slowly, he nodded, his hand tightening around yours as if grounding himself in the reality of your words.
"Iâm sorry," he repeated, his voice barely audible. "I let my fears get the best of me."
You shook your head, lifting his chin so heâd meet your gaze. "Itâs okay, Sam. Weâll work through it. But you have to talk to me. You canât keep everything bottled up inside."
He sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he nodded again. "I know. Iâll do better. Iâll trust you."
You smiled softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Weâre in this together. Always."
Sam leaned into your touch, his eyes softening. "I donât 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! //
#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x you#sam winchester x y/n#sam winchester x sister!reader#sam winchester x ofc#sam winchester x wife!reader#sam winchester imagine#sam winchester icons#x reader#x you#x y/n#reader insert#spn x reader#spn x y/n#spn x you#spn fanart#spn fanfic#spn family#spn fandom#spn first watch#supernatural x reader#supernatural x you
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đđđđ đđđđđđđ â grace winchester remembers the very first night her father showed his true colors, and sheâs confronted with the memories when she and her brothers take on a case in oklahoma
đđđđđđđ(đ) â implied/referenced child abuse, panic attacks, anxiety, canon-typical violence, dean winchester is an asshole but he does care about his little sister, sam winchester just wants dean to realize he was hurt too, oc au
series: love was the law



Palm Springs, California. 1991.Â
Rain came down heavy in Palm Springs, cold droplets splashing against asphalt and concrete with a rhythmic pattering that fought to quell festering anxiety. Tiny hands batted at the doors of a sleek black car, pleading to be let inside, to be allowed to escape the frigid rain and late summer mosquitos. Brown hair is drenched, weighed down by the rain shower that started just after sunrise. The wooded area still smells of flesh and gasoline, and salt residue gathers beneath untrimmed fingernails that are jagged and uneven. The smokes cleared, the fires burnt out, but John Winchester remains at the scene of the burning, his jaw set into a tight line as he watches his youngest child â his only daughter â pound against the windows, fear etched across her features as she stands out in the rain. Every couple of seconds she shrieks, slapping at her skin whenever a mosquito lands on her body, and sickeningly the father of three can only laugh as he watches her panic.Â
âDaddy!â The little girl no older than five years old, though sheâll very proudly tell anybody who asks that sheâs almost six, pleads with her father, having not yet learned that begging is futile. She doesnât know what she did wrong. Maybe heâs angry that she slipped in the mud on the way to burn the bones of a pissed off spirit, maybe heâs finally punishing her for breaking Deanâs fishing pole that hardly ever got used anyways, or maybe he just feels like being mean. Heâd felt like being mean a lot lately. She jumps away from the car when a spider crawls near her hand, the tiny insect fighting to find shelter from the storm, but no matter how innocent its presence was in the moment, Grace Winchester was not a fan of anything with more than four legs and two eyes, and she knows for a fact that spiders have eight eyes, they just learned about it in school.Â
The rain continues to patter against the dense woods, and as the humidity in California increases, it only draws more mosquitos out of hiding. The little girl sobs when she realizes a spider is crawling up her arm, and she flails dramatically to get it off of her. She thinks it's never going to end â the storm; the assault of mosquitos â but then the doors click, and John begrudgingly inclines his head toward the backseat, the only indication that sheâs allowed to escape the downpour. He doesnât say anything, doesnât apologize for locking her out, doesnât affirm that sheâs safe from bugs now, merely huffs through his nose and speeds away, leaving the pile of charred bones behind him.Â
Present Â
Grace Winchester lays against the hood of the Impala, her eyes wide and full of wonder as she gazes up at the sky, an endless expanse of stars just out of reach above her head and speckled across the abyss of darkness like splattered paint. The air is twinged with something warm and inviting, Springtime in full swing across the states, though the temperature fluctuations with every border she and her brothers cross over. She doesnât mind the slight chill and promise of something warmer once the sun rises over the horizon, taking a minute to appreciate how the breeze feels as it brushes against her arms and legs. Unlike her brothers, who never seem to adjust their wardrobe for the seasons, Grace leans into the annual change of climate, and looks forward to the warmer months and the promise of lighter layers and bright colors. Sheâs a sore thumb standing between Dean and Sam, their dark and broody exteriors softened by the splashes of color and patterns on her clothing, but theyâve long since stopped trying to indoctrinate her into flannels and deep neutrals. Even if Deanâll never admit to it, he doesnât mind the cotton shorts and frilly tops that take up space in his trunk. Itâs a refreshing sight when everything else in their lives is so heavy and serious.Â
Sam leans against the hood, his broad frame accentuated by the jacket around his shoulders. He doesnât know how Grace is unphased in only a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt, subconsciously shivering whenever the breeze rolls past him. Unlike the youngest Winchester, whose only priority is trying to locate the big dipper, heâs nose deep in the local paper, scouring for a case to work while Dean does whatever he intended to do inside of the bar heâd spontaneously pulled up to nearly an hour ago. Grace has a good idea of how their older brother is wasting time inside the dive bar, but she canât bring herself to care about the nitty gritty details of his scamming as she loses herself to relaxation for the first time in a while.Â
She turns her head to the side when footsteps draw near, her brothers laugh projected over the lively atmosphere of music and distant chatter. She rolls her eyes at the wad of money Dean holds up with evident pride, entirely missing the fact that in his other hand is a paper cup with a bendy straw that hasnât yet been mended into an arch. Sam trails his gaze over to Dean seconds later, and his reaction is almost identical.
âYou know, we could get day jobs every once in a while.â Sam scoffs, lowering the news paper that heâd been very intently skimming for leads. Grace sits up on the hood, pulling her knees into her chest as she looks at her eldest brother, analyzing the short lived exasperation that crosses his features at Samâs comment.Â
âHuntings our day job and the pay is crap.â Dean hands the cup to Grace, saying nothing about what it is, though the youngest Winchester has a pretty good idea and instantly perks up, reaching for the take-away cup that she only just noticed. She hums in satisfaction when creamy vanilla washes against her taste buds, the cup cold between her hands but she hardly bristles at the temperature, more than content to sip away at the milkshake like it's warmer than it really is.Â
âYeah, but hustling pool, credit card scams?â Sam drops the paper even more, his shoulder crashing into Graceâs shin as he adjusts his stance, âItâs not the most honest thing in the world, Dean.âÂ
âWell, letâs see, honest, fun and easy.â He holds out his hands, pretending to weigh the options that heâs never even really considered. Grace likes to think that in another life, he wouldâve owned his own mechanic company, but Dean has never known freedom nor normalcy enough to even recognize that as something heâd be remotely interested in. âItâs no contest.â She can only scoff at his stupid expression, both of his eyebrows raised as he inclines his head to the side. âBesides, weâre good at it. Itâs what we were raised to do.âÂ
Samâs quick to rebuttal, the moonlight glistening against his eyes. âYeah, well, how we were raised was jacked.âÂ
âYeah, says you.â Dean doesnât hear whatâs actually being said, and his response comes quick and without thought. âWe got a new gig or what?âÂ
âMaybe. Oasis Plains, Oklahoma. Not far from here. Gas company employee, Dustin Burwash supposedly died from Creutzfeldt-Jakob.â Sam slips off the hood with purpose, laying the paper down on the black surface, just barely skimming the words as he tells Dean about the potential case. Grace furrows her eyebrows at the medical term she doesnât understand, but Dean makes a noise of confusion before she can swallow her mouthful of milkshake to ask herself. âHuman mad cow disease.â He clarifies, his eyes flickering to Grace for a second. He can only laugh at the sight of her only half paying attention as she bends the striped straw into a loop.Â
âMad cow? Wasnât that on Oprah?â Dean leans forward, hands bracing on the hood of the car as he inspects the paper for any details Sam left out, his interest peaked far more than Graceâs.Â
âYou watch Oprah?â Grace could only roll her eyes at what Sam chose to focus on, but a smirk of amusement pulled at the corners of her lips as she took another sip of the cold treat between her hands.Â
As if heâs only just realized that heâs unintentionally outed himself, Dean bristles at the question for a second before heâs moving on, clearly wanting to avoid any further teasing. âSo this guy eats a bad burger, whyâs it our kind of thing?âÂ
âMad cow disease causes massive brain degeneration. It takes months, even years for the damage to appear but this guy Dustin, sounds like his brain disintegrated in about an hour, maybe less.â Grace listens closely to what Sam rambles off, but she makes no indication of being interested in any way. Dean however, inclines his head, having to agree that the conditions around Dustinâs death seem strange enough without any further details to support the claim Sam initially presented. âNow it could be a disease or it could be something much nastier.âÂ
It takes no further convincing, and with a curt nod of acceptance, Dean stands, clapping his hands together before he reaches out to pat Graceâs ankle. âAlright, Oklahoma. Man, work, work, work. No time to spend my money.âÂ
Grace rolls her eyes, sliding off of the hood as she follows her brother's movements. She ducks under Samâs arm when he opens the back passenger door for her before she has the chance, crawling into the backseat with a careful grip on her milkshake. She reaches for a blanket that's thrown onto the floor instinctively, pulling it up around her body as she snuggles into the door as Dean starts the car. Itâs not even a full minute later that the Impala is peeling away from the parking lot, heading straight for Oklahoma.Â
-
Hours later, the sky is bright with daylight, but the clouds that hang overhead keep the Springtime heat from fully settling over the small town. A sweatshirt is pulled over her body, but the hem of her pink shorts is visible as she climbs out of the car after Dean, eager to stretch her legs after falling asleep in a tight ball in the backseat. She pulls her hair up into a ponytail as they approach a man loading his truck outside of Oklahoma Gas and Power, smiling sadly at the man as Dean swings his keys into his palm, also playing up the act theyâve discussed in detail on the drive over.Â
âTravis Weaver?â Sam questions as they approach, straightening out his jacket that had gotten bunched up from his position in the car.Â
âYeah, thatâs right.â The man, Travis, answers, turning to look at the siblings that have the same light eyes in various shades of green.Â
âAre you the Travis who worked with Uncle Dusty?â Dean asked, wanting to be sure they were talking to the right person while not-so-subtly dropping their connection to Dustin. It was almost disgusting to consider how good they had become at slipping into lives that werenât their own, but that ability to disappear into someone else had come from years of practice and failure. Grace canât remember the first time sheâd been told to âjust go with itâ but she can definitively assume she was more than a little skeptical. Now, she hardly bristles at the prospect of lying through her teeth.Â
âDustin never mentioned having nephews or a niece.â Travis frowned, taking in the appearance of the siblings, his eyes raking across Graceâs body as he took in the sight of her dressed so differently from the men on either side of her.Â
âReally? Well, he sure mentioned you. He said you were the greatest.â Dean kept up the act, his smile entirely fake as he looked down at Travis.Â
âOh, he did? Huh.â Grace couldâve cringed at how flattered Travis looked if she wasnât so focused on getting the information they needed. It was sickening to think that something so small could make someone stricken with grief so happy, and it was even more sickening to think that it was all a lie and most of the people they encountered never even knew. Maybe it gave them peace; Grace hopes that it does, otherwise sheâd feel horrible.Â
âListen, we wanted to ask you, uh what exactly happened out there?â Graceâs lips trembled, her sad smile sinking into a grimace as she looked to Travis for information, hardly aware of how she played the part of a grieving niece almost too well. Sam had always been amazed at how naturally she could become somebody else, fitting whatever roll they wore like she was a trained expert. That was definitely an area where she far surpassed his level of expertise.Â
Travis shook his eyes, his eyes twinged with pain that spoke volumes about his awareness of the situation; not that anyone could blame him for not immediately questioning the circumstances of Dustinâs death. The average person didnât immediately consider that something supernatural had been at hand. âIâm not sure. He fell in the sinkhole. I went to the truck to get some rope, and, uh, by the time I got backâŚâ
âWhatâd you see?â Grace allowed her voice to waver just slightly, desperation bleeding into her tone as she set her eyes on Travis firmly. Dean had to hide his amused smile behind a wrinkled grin of matching desperation, though his tone remained far more even than Graceâs.Â
âNothing. Just Dustin.â All of the siblings could tell that was far from the truth, but Travis didnât seem to question the nature of the injuries heâd seen. Theyâd probably all been explained away by detectives and medical examiners who were always so desperate to find scientific evidence over logical reasoning.Â
âWell, he was bleeding from his eyes and his ears and his nose, thatâs it.â Travis shrugged, and Grace nodded gratefully, taking in the information and simultaneously trying to piece together what had happened with the information they already knew.Â
Dean tilted his head to the side, his lips pressed into a thin line as he pressed for more. âSo do you think it could be this whole mad cow thing?â
âI donât know thatâs what the doctors are saying.â Travis was hardly phased, having no reason to doubt the medical examination or the facts that the doctors had disclosed to him and the public.Â
âBut if it was, he would have acted strange beforehand like dementia, loss of motor control. You ever notice anything like that?â Sam pressed this time, but his tone was even, unassuming.Â
Travis shook his head again, âYeah, but then again, if it wasnât some disease what the hell was it?âÂ
âThatâs a good question.â Dean hummed his agreement.Â
âYou know, can you tell us where this happened?â Sam questioned, knowing that theyâve gotten everything out of Travis that they possibly could, and theyâd need to do more digging elsewhere if they were going to learn anything of use.Â
-
Oasis Plains Estates was exactly how Grace had pictured it would be, and as the engine revved, she glanced out of the back window, taking in the sights of large and lavish homes steadily being constructed by teams of men in orange hard hats. These were the kinds of neighborhoods sheâd always been fascinated by, but there was something off-putting and eerie about knowing that a man had lost his life here â still, she thinks a neighborhood like this would be better than crappy motel rooms any day.Â
Sheâd changed since they peeled away from the construction companyâs headquarters, and as she climbed out of the car before Dean had even gotten the gear in park, she adjusted the waistband of her jeans, already annoyed by how thick denim cut into her hip bones.Â
âHuh. What do you think?â Dean hummed as they crossed the street, approaching caution tape and the sinkhole that Dustin had fallen into. Nothing about the location in particular had her feeling any type of way, and so she only shrugged indifferently in Deanâs direction, brushing hair out of her face when the wind blew just enough to rustle her thin locks.Â
âI donât know, but if that guy Travis was right it happened pretty damn fast.â Sam noted, ducking beneath the caution tape with Dean, but he turned to hold it up for Grace, laughing quietly when Dean scoffed in annoyance about not receiving the same treatment.Â
âSo what? Some sort of creature chewed on his brain?â Grace grimaced at the visual, batting a hand against Deanâs bicep as she rolled her eyes at his unnecessarily vivid imagery.Â
Sam wasnât so phased, shaking his head as he peered into the sinkhole where roots grew and intertwined chaotically. âNo, thereâd be an entry wound. Sounds like this thing worked from the inside.
All three of the siblings squatted down, peering into the hole in the ground with equal disinterest. Samâs nose wrinkled as he watched Dean shine a light on the sinkhole, and Dean, ever the observant individual, noted that there was only room for one of them down there. âYou wanna flip a coin?â He questioned, ducking under the caution tape once again.Â
âOh yeah, letâs go down there when we have no idea what the hell happened to begin with.â Grace scoffed, shaking her head as she and Sam exchanged equally bewildered expressions before turning back to their older brother.Â
âAlright, Iâll go if youâre scared.â Dean grabbed a hose from the ground, his tone laced with jesting arrogance that he knew would get under Samâs skin. Grace wasnât so easily roped into his shenanigans, and thus, entirely ignored the antagonizing comment. âYou scared?â He only further egged Sam on.Â
âFlip the damn coin.â Sam caved and Dean chuckled with amusement, reaching into his pocket for a coin upon the rebutted request.Â
âAlright, call it in the air, chicken.â The coin toss was futile, because the second Dean flipped the nickel, Sam snatched it out of the air, declaring that he was going to be the one to go down. Despite not knowing what awaited him in the sinkhole, Grace wasnât going to argue, just glad that she wasnât being sacrificed with the bullshit excuse of âyouâre smallerâ. Dean, however, continued to tease, claiming that he said he would go down as if they all didnât know he was bluffing just to do the opposite.Â
Sam tied the hose around his waist, but his hands were quickly batted out of the way by Grace who stepped in to tie the knot the second she realized Sam had no idea what he was doing. She knew the second he bore any weight on the knot he originally created, it wouldâve slipped right out and he wouldâve fell however many feet it was to the bottom. She really did question if theyâd still be alive without her constant supervision.Â
âDonât drop me.â Sam huffed, looking more toward Dean than Grace. Dean only rolled his eyes in response, gesturing for Sam to get on with it already, not wanting to draw any suspicion toward them when the up and coming development was crawling with construction workers still on the job.Â
Sam lowered himself into the sinkhole, and Dean grabbed onto the hose, batting Grace away when she stepped up to help him. She rolled her eyes at him, but didnât object, stepping away from the hole in the ground with the assurance that her brothers had it handled. Sam wasnât down there for any more than thirty seconds before he was calling for Dean to pull him back up, one of his hands cradling something cautiously while the other clawed at the dirt around him.Â
When he was on his own two feet again, he wiggled out of the hose, nodding toward the car without any further comment. Grace rolled her eyes, and Dean did the same, but the both of them followed Sam regardless of their attitudes towards his newfound silence. Once they were situated in the Impala, Sam opened his palm, revealing a very dead beetle with the most disgusting antennas at the top of its head. Grace flinched, shrinking into herself as she put as much distance between herself and the bug as she could manage.Â
âSo you found some beetles in a hole in the ground. Thatâs shocking, Sam.â Dean hummed not even three minutes later, his eyes glancing at the insect that Sam hadnât stopped messing with before he refocused on the road ahead of him, one hand on the wheel while the other gripped the gear stick.Â
Sam only shrugged, not giving into the sarcasm this time around, apparently able to pick and choose when he wanted to fall victim to Deanâs antagonizing. âThere were no tunnels, no tracks, no evidence of any other kind of creature down there. You know, some beetles do eat meat. Now itâs usually dead meat, butââ
âHow many did you find down there?â Dean cut him off, not interested in hearing all of the oddly specific beetle facts that Sam undoubtedly knew off the top of his head. Grace was more than glad about that, though she still shivered in disgust at the fact that her brother was holding onto a dead beetle somewhat protectively, poking and prodding at it like it wasnât once a live insect that probably carried a few million diseases.Â
âTen.â Sam sounded proud of the development, meanwhile Grace scrunched her nose up in disgust, very glad that she hadnât been the one to stumble upon ten beetles.Â
âIt would take a whole lot more than that to eat some dudeâs brain.â Dean shook his head, rightfully skeptical about the premise of only ten beetles eating a man's brain in a matter of minutes.Â
âWell, maybe there were more.â Sam rebutted, wrapping his fingers around the beetle as he tried to sway Deanâs opinion. Grace was just glad she couldnât see the black insect anymore, still beyond disgusted that it was even in the car with her to begin with.Â
âI donât know. Sounds like a stretch to me.â
âWell, we need more information on the area, the neighborhood. Whether something like this has ever happened before.â Sam prattled on, but Deanâs attention was quickly misplaced as he analyzed red balloons on the side of the road, tied to a post just inches away from an open house sign.Â
âI know a good place to start.â He commented smugly, his eyes scanning the surrounding area until they found yet another sign that advertised a community barbeque in a backyard. âKind of hungry for a little barbeque. How about you?â Sam rolled his eyes, and Grace did the same, hardly surprised that Dean was interested in free food and conversing with townspeople. âWhat, we canât talk to the locals?âÂ
âAnd the free foodâs got nothing to do with it?â Sam teased, his smirk only growing when Grace laughed softly, bating at the back of Deanâs seat.Â
âOf course not. Iâm a professional.âÂ
âSwear to god, Dean. If you puke this time, Iâm going to kick you.â Grace threatened as Dean pulled up to a house on the left hand side, her mind flashing back to the last barbeque theyâd stumbled into somewhere deep in Ohio. Heâd entered a hot dog eating contest like an asshole, and after losing (which he still wonât admit to, claiming the guy who won cheated by not eating the buns) heâd puked inches away from her brand new running shoes that hadnât even acquired a spec of dirt yet.Â
Dean only rolled his eyes at her comment, turning the engine off before he climbed out of the car, Sam and Grace following his lead begrudgingly. They glanced at the houses, taking in the large driveways and abstract roofs as they ventured down the sidewalk. âGrowing up in a place like this would freak me out.â Dean commented, which had both Grace and Sma frowning in confusion.Â
âWhy?â Grace questioned, looking at the houses that were more or less finished. They werenât exactly her style, a little too flashy and big for what she figured her taste was, but something about it still felt safe and oddly romanticized. This was the kind of neighborhood that threw block parties in the middle of the street, and where everybody knew everybody even if they secretly hated everything about the town and its community.Â
âThe manicured laws, how-was-your-day-honey? Iâd blow my brains out.â Dean scoffed, still heavily critiquing the development.Â
âI think itâd be nice. Youâre just allergic to normal.â Grace commented, Sam nodding his head in agreement as he stepped toward the left, giving her more room to walk between them instead of lingering awkwardly behind their broad frames like sheâd found herself doing.Â
âIâd take our family over normal any day.â Dean scoffed, eyeing a sign in the front yard as they stumbled up the driveway.Â
âNormal and our family donât have to be antonyms, you know. We could be normal.â Grace hummed, already getting lost in the hypothetical image of growing up without crappy motel rooms and a dead mom that she canât even remember. She knows that had they had white-picket fences and parent teacher conferences, they most likely wouldnât have had the relationship that they do now, but she thinks sheâd be okay with stereotypical annoying older brothers that have their own lives outside of her own instead of the trauma and constant fear thatâs rooted in the reality they did actually grow up within.Â
She pushes past Sam to be the one to knock on the door, a cheeky smile on her lips as she turns to tease him. Sam pushes her head away from his, but he laughs quietly beneath his breath regardless of the annoyed display he puts on. There are very few moments where he gets to see his sister for who she actually is, but as he watches her pound her fist against the textured glass, itâs clear as day that beneath the hunter exterior she always puts up, sheâs just a twenty-year-old kid that still has so much joy tethered to her spirit. He wishes that sheâd drop the act more often, sheâd finally stopped putting it on at all in the last few months that they spent together at Stanford, but he knows what happens when she slips up, and he knows that despite their father not being around physically, sheâs still terrified of word getting back to him that she was anything less than perfect.Â
The door swings open seconds later, and Graceâs mask comes right back up. Her contagious excitement that had both Sam and Dean grinning was quickly shoved aside, replaced with a stoic expression that only conveyed what it absolutely needed to. âWelcome.âÂ
âThis the barbeque?â Dean questioned, a smirk splaying across his lips as he inhaled the aroma of smoked meat and charcoal.Â
âYeah, not the best weather, butâŚâ The man glanced at the sky, the overcast weather not uncommon for early Spring, but definitely a damper on his plans for a sunny-day barbeque. âIâm, uh, Larry Pike, the developer here, and you are?âÂ
âDean, this is Sam, Grace.â Dean introduced them at the same time that Sam and Grace introduced themselves. Larry could only chuckle softly, his lips curving into a grin as he nodded.Â
âSam, Dean, Grace, good to meet you.â Larry exchanged formalities, âSo you three are interested in Oasis Plains?âÂ
âYes, sir.â Dean nodded his head, inclining his chin just slightly to the right as he agreed, but Grace could tell he was itching to be let inside and shown to the food. She had to stifle the scoff that threatened to fall off of her lips, the days sheâd been spending with her brothers breaking all of the habits sheâd spent decades perfectly curating to avoid her fathers rage. It was both liberating and terrifying, because she knew that they would find him eventually, and sheâd have to deal with the repercussions of letting herself be comfortable in her own skin for a change.
âLet me just say, we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color or⌠sexual orientation.â Grace and Sam couldnât contain their smirks of amusement, meanwhile Dean looked deeply distributed by the insinuation that his connection to either of them was anything more than familial.Â
âThese are my brothers.â Grace smiled politely, fighting back her giggles as Dean tried his best not to start rambling about how Larry's analysis of their relationship was beyond off and disturbing.
âBig brothers.â Dean clarified, and Grace could only roll her eyes, elbowing him in the ribs.Â
âOur father is getting on in years and weâre just looking for a place for him.â Sam cut in before Dean could derail the conversation anymore than it already had been.Â
Larry hardly even bristled at the wrong assumption, inclining his head like a stereotypical businessman solely seeking out successes in his career. âGreat, great. Well, seniors are welcome to. Come on in.â
The siblings followed Larry through the house, looking around at the furniture choices and style as they were guided out to the backyard where more people gathered. Some had red solo cups in hand, while others simply mingled, lively chatter filling the space easily.Â
âYou said you were the developer?â Dean questioned as Larry stepped outside, a smile on his lips as he proudly showed off his accomplishments.Â
âA few months ago I was walking this valley with my survey team. There was nothing here but scrub brush and squirrels. And you know what, we built such a nice place to live that I actually bought into it myself. This is our house. Weâre the first family in Oasis Plains.â Larry walked backwards as he explained the last few months of his life and developments, a smile on his lips as he peered over his shoulder, approaching a woman in a baby pink blouse. âThis is my wife, Joanie.âÂ
âHi there.â Joanie smiled, shaking Deanâs hand before she shook Samâs. Grace only smiled, Joanie nodding her head fondly at her.Â
âSam, Dean and Grace.â Larry introduced them, and Sam was quick to mention that he was Sam, not wanting to be confused for Dean which had Grace shaking her head just slightly as she stepped back to let her brothers guide the conversation. She had no interest in baseless conversations, and so far, there hadnât been anything out of the ordinary that piqued her interest enough to pretend like she wanted to engage in a mindless conversation.Â
âTell them how much you love the place, honey. And lie if you have to because I need to sell some houses.â Larry faux whispered, and Grace had to fight the eye roll at his obnoxious attitude. She hated men that sought out nothing but personal gain, and while she could respect an honest hustle for business, something about Larry himself just rubbed her the wrong way. First impressions were hardly ever misleading, and so all she put her energy into was appearing polite enough.Â
Her brothers, however, laughed in polite amusement, Samâs lips curving into a smile as he nodded along.
âBoys, Grace, if youâll excuse me.â Larry quickly saw himself out of the conversation, and Joanie was quick to step up, although Grace found her energy far more enticing than this.Â
âDonât let his salesman routine scare you.â Joanie brushed Larry off, more for Graceâs benefit than Sam or Dean, but still the men nodded anyway. âThis really is a great place to live.â
âHi, Iâm Lynda Bloom, head of sales.â Another woman approached, and Joanie was quick to welcome her into the conversation, jutting a hand out in Lyndaâs direction with a sweet smile on her lips as light refracted off of her necklace, something Grace was sure her brothers didnât notice in the slightest, but she appreciated.Â
âAnd Lynda was second to move in. Sheâs a very noisy neighbor though.â Grace found herself smirking at Joanieâs comment before the woman peeled away, leaving only Lynda to converse with.Â
âSheâs kidding, of course. I take it you three are interested in becoming homeowners.â The woman stepped the slightest bit closer, and instinctively, Grace stepped back, something that didnât go unnoticed by Sam or Dean, though her brothers were hardly phased and thoroughly amused. Theyâd grown up with Grace rambling about how girls can read each other easily, and theyâd always found it humorous, clearly that hadnât changed as Deanâs hand jutted out to slap at her side.Â
âYeah, yeah, well..â Sam trailed off, but Lynda cut in before he could finish, not that he knew what to say in the slightest.Â
âWell, let me just say that we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color or⌠sexual orientation.â Lynda gave the same rehearsed spiel, and this time neither Sam or Grace found it as funny as they did the first time, both fighting grimaces as they wondered why these people were so intent with analyzing their behavior beneath a romantic lens. In Graceâs opinion, they were basically the poster children for typical American siblings.Â
âIâm gonna go talk to Larry, alright honey?â Dean played into it, and Grace honestly wasnât sure whether he was addressing her or Sam, but that question was very quickly answered when he turned on his heels and began walking back toward the house, but not without reaching out to tap Samâs butt on his way.Â
Grace had to turn her face away to get her laughter under control, meanwhile Sam snapped his head back to glare at Deanâs retreating frame. It didnât take any further prompting for Lynda to lead them over toward a tented area, talking their ears off about the customizations and amenities that Oasis Plains had to offer. Grace wanted to beat her head against the wooden fence, and every time she glanced over at Sam, she was certain that he was thinking the same thing, his eyes practically dead as he forced small smiles and head nods every few seconds just to appease Lynda. Grace was doing the same, but her boredom wasnât so discreet as she drummed her fingers against the table to her right, wondering where the hell Dena had escaped to and inquiring about whether he was undergoing the same torment. She was only half paying attention when Sam stepped around Lynda and braced his hands on her shoulders, softly guiding her away from the table without any further explanation. Grace frowned curiously, but when her eyes followed his sharp motions, her breath caught in her throat as she realized a tarantula was mere centimeters away from where her hands had been. Immediately shivers crawled up her spine and she flinched in disgust, looking antsy as she glanced between Sam and the house.Â
âI need to go wash my hands.â She announced quietly, making a quick b-line for the house, leaving Sam and the tarantula behind, although she was almost certain that she could feel it crawling up her arms despite not even actually touching her skin. She shivered in disgust at the thought of it brushing against her without her even realizing, suddenly desperate to scrub her hands until they were raw and bleeding.Â
She stumbled into Dean on her haste to enter the house again, her shoulder bumping into his chest as she brushed through the crowd. She hadnât even noticed him coming out of the house with Larry, but as she snapped her head to the left, she realized that heâd been one of the people sheâd pushed past in an anxious hurry. Dean furrowed his eyebrows at her, a hand holding onto her wrist as he kept her in place. âWhatâs up?â He inquired, taking note of the unsettled gleam in her soft eyes.Â
Grace shook her head, practically trembling as her voice came out rushed and whispered, âFucking tarantula like an inch away from my hand. Oh my god, I think we need to cut my hands off. I can feel it crawling on me.âÂ
Dean rolled his eyes in fond exasperation, completely ignoring her dramatics as he pulled her along with him to Sam. âYouâll be fine.â He coaxed half-heartedly, accepting that her fear of bugs was very real, but not knowing the root, and therefore not recognizing the fact that she was seconds away from a panic attack â the memory of a late night in Palm Springs playing at the forefront of her mind despite all efforts to stay grounded in the present. His eyes fell onto her features when her fingers latched onto the sleeve of his jacket, and finally he took note of how her eyes were glazed over and far from the current moment, and the tough exterior he put on melted away quickly, replaced by soft understanding that he very rarely let show. âHey, youâre okay, sweetheart. Weâll find Sammy and get out of here, yeah?âÂ
âYeah. Yeah.â Grace agreed easily, but her grip on his sleeve didnât falter, and although Dean was beyond confused, he didnât push for anymore information, just continued on toward where Sam stood beneath a tent in front of a teenage boy. They got to him just as Larry began dragging the kid away, and Samâs eyes lingered for a second before he looked to Dean and Grace.Â
âRemind you of somebody?â Sam smirked, his eyes trailing over where Larry was not-so-subtly reprimanding his son beside the back door. Grace shivered, knowing exactly what Sam was referencing, but Dean remained unphased by the taunting, apparently not recognizing the similarities between Larry and John. âDad?âÂ
âDad never treated us like that.â Dean frowned, beyond confused.Â
Sam scoffed, his eyes trailing over Grace who was hardly paying attention to the conversation at all, subconsciously picking at her cuticles with the hand that wasnât tightly holding onto Deanâs leather sleeve. âWell, dad never treated you like that. You were perfect. He was all over my case.âÂ
John Winchester definitely had favorites, and very rarely (literally never) was Grace above her brothers. But, even though Sam was never thrown to the ground by his own hands, or locked outside of the car in a bug infested wooded area at five-years-old in the pouring rain, he didnât avoid Johnâs gruff scrutiny so easily either. âYou donât remember?â Sam scoffed.Â
âWell, maybe he had to raise his voice but sometimes you were out of line.â Dean wouldn't touch any conversation about Graceâs relationship with John with a ten foot pole, but he would touch Samâs, and the frustration that the middle Winchester felt was only piling up by the day, incapable of comprehending how his brother could openly admit that John was a dick, while also being his biggest supporter. Grace could understand it, but she wasnât in the mood to unpack the trauma response of surviving at whatever costs necessary.Â
Sam rolled his eyes, not willing to abandon the topic just yet, despite how desperately Grace wished theyâd stop talking about John all together. Her fingers twitched as she held onto Deanâs sleeve, but before he could react, she pulled her hands away entirely, intertwining her fingers in front of her body as she rocked on her feet. âRight. Right, like when I said Iâd rather play soccer than learn bowhunting.â Sam rolled his eyes, his gaze trailing over Grace once more, but his sister still didnât seem to be paying any more attention than she had been before, her eyes glazed over as she glanced back to where Larry and his son had once stood, but now both were gone.Â
âBowhuntings an important skill.â Dean rebutted, and if Grace wasnât so dazed from lingering panic, she wouldâve frowned at how normalized all of this was for Dean. Sheâd gotten the chance to spend almost an entire year out from beneath her fathers thumb, but Dean never had, and when sheâd been healing, finding herself and establishing connections in the real world, heâd been subjected to it all alone. Maybe Dean had never been beaten until he passed out, maybe heâd never been taunted with cynical punishments, but he was just as equally manipulated by the mind games that John Winchester thrived on playing with his own children; he just hadnât realized it yet. Grace could be patient, she could wait for him to realize how much of his life and adolescence had been tarnished by Johnâs attitude on his own terms. Sam however, didn't seem to be able to extend the same thoughtfulness.Â
âWhatever.â Sam rolled his eyes, not in the mood to have his feelings belittled and trampled over. âHow was your tour?âÂ
âOh, it was excellent. Iâm ready to buy.â Dean quipped, a sarcastic smile on his face before it fell, his tone dropping as he grew serious. âSo you might be onto something. Looks like Dustin Burwash wasnât the first strange death around here.â Grace frowned, looking up at Dean at the information, finally coming out of her own head enough to be fully engaged in the conversation at hand.Â
âWhat happened?â She questioned, angling her body so that Larry couldnât watch them talk, not that heâd be able to hear them from across the patio, but she didnât want to take any chances and raise any more red flags than necessary.Â
âAbout a year ago before they broke ground one of Larryâs surveyors dropped dead while on the job. Get this. Severe allergic reaction to bee stings.âÂ
âMore bugs.â Sam concluded, and Dean nodded, repeating the realization.Â
âFucking great. Yippee.â Grace shivered, her brothers glancing down sympathetically, although amusement shone bright in both of their light eyes. If only they knew why she was so afraid, there wouldnât be an ounce of amusement glistening through their green stares, but she wasnât ready to disclose hidden moments of the past just yet, and they werenât ready to hear it.Â
-
Another handful of hours later, all three siblings were once again crammed into the car, although this time Sam was behind the wheel and Dean was nose deep in a book in the passenger seat. Grace was curled up in the backseat, forcing herself to go through a million different breathing exercises as her brothers discussed insects and creepy crawlies at distributing lengths. Her hair was dry, her clothes werenât damp in the slightest, but she swore she could feel rain pelting her skin and turning her bones to frozen ice as she sat in the backseat, her mind half present and half far away in the first memory of her father being truly cruel and unforgiving. Heâd raised his voice at her before that moment. Heâd grabbed her wrist too hard, tied her braids too tight, but never had he done something like lock her out of the car in the middle of the woods. She can still remember the way her little heart had lept in her chest with overwhelming fear as spiders crawled over her clothes, and mosquitos leeched onto any part of her body that they could draw blood from. After that hunt, sheâd been covered in at least thirty mosquito bites that had bled for weeks before they healed. Dean and Sam never knew how she got them, and John had made sure they never had the chance to ask.Â
âYou know, Iâve heard of killer bees, but killer beetles? What is it that could make different bugs attack?â Dean questioned, flipping to another page in the book, although Grace is certain that heâs already read the same pages three times over, but she doesnât comment on it, more than content to let the boys take the lead on this case while she focuses on not succumbing to violent memories at the forefront of her mind.Â
âWell, haunting sometimes includes bug manifestations.â Sam suggested, but Dean didnât even let that sit in the air for a second before he was arguing its legitimacy, his eyes scanning the pages between his fingers intently.Â
âYeah, but I didnât see any evidence of ghost activity.â He explained, and with pursed lips Sam agreed, effectively sending them both back to the drawing board. âMaybe theyâre being controlled somehow you know, but something or someone.âÂ
Sam frowned, looking over at Dean, his eyes flickering to Grace for only a second before he was focusing back on the road, the Impalaâs headlights shining bright in the expanse of darkness that surrounded them. âYou mean like Willard?â
âYeah. Bugs instead of rats.â Grace would be more than okay if it were rats that they were questioning right now, even if she desperately despised those creatures too. Nothing was worse than bugs. Sheâd been scared of them before that night in Palm Springs, but now all they do is stir wild anxiety in her belly. John Winchester hated her weaknesses, but heâd been the one to give her most of them.Â
âThere are cases of psychic connections between people and animals. Elementals, telepaths.â Sam explained away what he could, ideas bouncing off of Dean who took them in with only mild scrutiny.Â
âYeah, the whole Timmy-Lassie thing.â Dean hummed thoughtfully before he found a connection, his right hand jutting outward in a motion of understanding as he craned his head to glance at both Grace and Sam. âLarryâs kid. Got bugs for pets.âÂ
âMatt?â Sam questioned, nodding in agreement with Dean as he recalled the events of the barbeque. âHe did try to scare Gracie and the realtor with a tarantula.âÂ
âDonât mention it.â Grace shivered, grabbing at the silver chain around her neck instinctively, clutching the cold pendant between her warm palms, desperately trying to keep herself from overthinking how close the spider had been to her hand. Dean reaches back, patting her knee affectionately though he said nothing to ease her discomfort, not-so-subtly enjoying the way she squirmed in her seat like a terrified child.Â
âThink heâs our Willard?âÂ
Sam sighed, both hands on the wheel now. âI donât know. Anythingâs possible, I guess.âÂ
Dean inclined his head in contemplation, but quickly pointed out a house on the side of the road, his finger tapping against the window as he directed Sam to slow down. âOh, hey, pull over here.âÂ
Grace frowned in confusion, and Sam shared the same expression as he pulled into the driveway of the house. âWhat are we doing here?â He questioned, craning his head to glance out the window as Dean began to peel himself out of the car wordlessly.Â
Grace crawled into the front seat when Dean reached for the garage door handle, âItâs too late to talk to anybody else.â His only defense as he began to pull the door open, revealing an empty garage.Â
âWeâre gonna squat in an empty house?â Sam called out in disbelief, but it wasnât the most insane thing theyâd done while seeking shelter on an active case, so Grace remained silent, emotionally drained from the long day behind her now.Â
âI wanna try the steam shower. Come on.â Dean encouraged, but Sam remained unconvinced, simply staring at him through the open window. Grace, however, smiled in amusement, always the one to make the most out of whatever cards they were dealt, and spending a night in a bed of her own â a real bed, on top of everything else â well that didnât seem so bad at all. She couldnât remember the last time sheâd had her own space to sleep in, certain that if it had happened at all, it had been years ago. âCome on!âÂ
Grace batted her hand against Samâs bicep, silently encouraging him to pull the car into the garage before anybody still lingering around the development could notice them. Sam rolled his eyes but obliged by the request, smirking in fond amusement when the side mirror crashed into Deanâs hand, their brother wincing in pain before he pulled the garage door down and into place, concealing the Impala for the night.Â
She climbed out of the car eagerly, brushing strands of hair off of her shoulders before she was heading to the back of the car in search of her own duffle bag. Dean already had the trunk open, her navy blue duffle over his shoulder and his own black bag held up on the other one. Sam rolled his eyes when he realized that Dean had no intention of grabbing his bag, and shoved his older brother out of the way so that he could retrieve it himself.Â
âBetter sleep with one eye open, Gracie. Wouldnât want any spiders in your bed, would you?â Dean taunted, his smirk electric and jesting, but it fell away quickly when Grace tensed at his side, her eyes widening with fear that was more than just irrational. Her breath caught, her lips beginning to tremble before teeth sank into soft skin, willing them to remain unmoving and neutral, though everything about her expression seeped genuine terror. Â
Her eyes refused to meet Deans, but weakly she pleaded with him to ease up on the jokes. âCan you not? Please?â She grabbed her duffle off of his shoulder, stalking past both him and Sam before either one of them could say anything to either remedy the situation or make it worse. It wasnât the first time Dean had threatened her with bugs, he was the stereotypical annoying older brother that exploited any lighthearted weakness his siblings expressed, but all of the times when heâd teased her about spiders in the past had been out of pocket. Now, there were actual bugs that were potentially killing people, and Grace was in no condition to just let the joke roll off of her shoulders like sheâd always done before.Â
Dean frowned in confusion as he watched her walk away and enter the house, Sam standing right beside him wearing the same expression of uncertainty. âSheâs being weird, right?âÂ
âSheâs scared of bugs, dude. I think she has every right to be a little on edge.â Sam defended, but even he was skeptical.Â
Dean shook his head, and for a moment, Sam could see the genuine concern in his eyes that he tried so hard to hide at any given moment. âNo. The way she held onto my sleeve at the barbeque⌠sheâs not telling us something.âÂ
âThink it has to do with Dad?â Sam questioned as he closed the trunk, not without grabbing a blanket from the back that he knew Grace wouldnât be able to sleep without. She was always cold at night, and he doubted that the house would have the best heat circulation â or any at all â with only the necessary furniture piled into it.Â
âWhen doesnât it with her?â Dean sighed sadly, nodding toward the door, desperate to leave the day behind and turn in for at least a couple hours of rest. Sam didnât argue, following after his older brother and stepping past the threshold. For a moment, he wondered what their lives wouldâve turned out to be if theyâd never left Lawrence, but there was no point dwelling on what would never be known, so as quickly as he considered it, he moved on, just wanting to turn in for the night.Â
-
The next morning, Grace was already up and ready for whatever challenges they faced while trying to uncover the mysteries of Oasis Plains. The sun had risen over the development, and with the birds chirping outside, all of the siblings were gathering themselves in preparation, although Dean had skewed priorities.Â
Grace was sitting in the hallway, her back against the wall, and her knees pulled up to her chin as she waited around for her brothers to get a move on. She was in no rush to get back into bug infested territory, but sheâd be lying if she said she wasnât going restless. Sheâd never been good at keeping still, always in search of something to keep her mind alert and her hands busy, but there was absolutely nothing to do in a house that only had the basic necessities. The refrigerator wasnât even plugged in downstairs, still covered in plastic that protected the stainless steel from scratches.Â
Sam knocked on the bathroom door minutes later, annoyance set into his jaw as he heard the water still running. âYou ever coming out of there?â He asked, only receiving a grumbled âWhatâ in response as Dean stayed beneath the stream of hot water. Grace had already showered, and her hair was still slightly damp as it fell over her left shoulder in a loose braid. âDean, a police call came in on the scanner. Someone was found dead three blocks from here. Come on.âÂ
âMore bugs?â Grace questioned from the floor, her light eyes revealing vulnerability that she just didnât have the energy to conceal anymore. Sheâd hardly gotten even an hour of sleep, unable to move on from the phantom sensation of bugs crawling up her skin enough to actually rest, and that was evident in her dim eyes and timid demeanor.Â
âLooks like it.â Sam smiled sympathetically, knowing that even if he suggested Grace stay here instead of join them out in the town and upcoming development, sheâd never agree to those conditions. He wouldnât either. Not when the both of them grew up being expected to perform under any conditions and restraints.Â
The door cracked open, and Dean grinned widely. âThis shower is awesome.â He concluded, a towel wrapped around his hair as steam slipped out from the crack in the door. Grace could only scoff her amusement, rolling her eyes at his fascination with simple pleasantries.Â
âCome on.â Sam rolled his eyes, strutting away from the bathroom door in exasperation. Dean had an amusing way of always getting beneath his skin. He played the same tricks every time, but somehow Sam never learned to just ignore him. If Grace didnât know any better, sheâd suggest that Sam likes being annoyed by Dean. It certainly makes her day interesting.Â
She stood up from her spot in the hallway, following Sam down the stairs. Sheâd already explored every inch of the house, but her eyes still scanned the layout as she descended the staircase, making note of all the subtle details and elements that further exonerated the vibe of the house. It wasnât anything elaborate despite the size and favorable amenities, and she quite liked how nonchalant it felt to walk the halls in a pair of black leggings and a sweatshirt. It felt comfortable, easy. If she had been given the chance, she wouldâve loved to grow up in a house like this. Â
âGracie?â Sam questioned as the youngest Wincheter came to stand in the kitchen. Grace hummed her attention, soft eyes trailing over Sam as she inspected his body for injuries. âYesterdayââ He began, trailing off as he scratched at his chin, unsure of how to broach the topic without upsetting his sister who notoriously wanted nothing to do with conversations about their fathers behavior. âYouâre scared of bugs because of Dad, arenât you?â He decided that blunt was the best option, but immediately regretted it when Grace reeled back like sheâd been physically struck, her eyes widening for only a second before she masked the expression like sheâd always had to do whenever John was around.Â
âYou donât want to go there, Sammy. Just leave it alone.â That was answer enough, and Sam nodded, knowing that he wasnât going to get anymore information out of Grace without further prying, and that wasnât something he was interested in or ever wanted to do. Dean was the one who pushed them to open up, who fought to know every secret they kept close to their hearts. Sam and Grace, however, had the mutual understanding that theyâd share when they were ready, and it was okay if they never were.Â
âRight.â He hummed, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he accepted the end of the conversion; not that it had even started to begin with. He wasnât trying to get more information out of her, more than willing to leave it alone, but Grace still softened at the sight of him so caught up in his head, and her shoulders deflated as she leaned against the granite countertop.Â
âYou were seven. I was five. We were in Palm Springs chasing that spirit that killed the two girls. Dad took me out to burn the bones, told you and Dean that weâd be back by sunrise with breakfast from that dumbass diner with the dinosaur in the parking lot. We came back soaked, and Dean was pissed off that Dad let me stand in the rain, because he got in trouble for going out during a storm the week before. Dad just agreed, let him think that I wanted to be out there with him, but heâ god, thatâs not even close to what happened. I tripped over a branch, fell in the mud. Dad was pissed that the new shirt Iâd gotten from Bobby was already ruined. After he made me salt the bones, he told me to stay where I was, to make sure that the bones actually burned. He went back to the car, I thought he was coming back, but then he didnât. It was the middle of spring, and humid, and it just started pouring out of nowhere. I came back covered in mosquito bites and you were mad that they kept bleeding onto the bed sheets. Dad told you I got bit while we burned the bones, and I mean, yeah I guess I probably did, but he didnât tell you that he locked me out of the car for two hours as a punishment for âfucking things up like alwaysâ. At one point, there was a spider on me. I freaked out, I mean, I hated bugs to begin with, but being out in the rain, in the middle of the night, still able to smell the gasoline from the fireâ I donât know. It sounds stupid. Honestly, it is stupid. But that was when he really started to change. When the little comments he made turned into being backhanded, when any minor mistake was suddenly reason enough to hit me until I couldnât get up without help. There is so much you donât know, Sammy, and Iâm not ready to talk about it. And, as much as you think youâre ready to hear it, youâre not. So yes, Iâm scared of bugs because of Dad, but just⌠drop it, okay? Iâll be fine. Iâve always been fine.â Grace wasnât even aware of the fact that she was rambling, anxiously pulling at her fingers as she disclosed the first night John Winchester had ever shown her his true colors. Sheâd idolized him at the time; been able to overlook the comments he made and the ways in which he treated her differently than the boys. Sheâd loved him, even afterwards, but now, now sheâs not so sure whether she hates him with a burning passion, or still wants to try and impress him even slightly.Â
Grace could see the gears turning in Samâs head. She could see him piecing together snippets of the past that had made no sense at the time, but now had a different meaning. âYou let Dean and I torment you with bugs for yearsâŚâ He trailed off, an unspoken apology in his saddened eyes that Grace only shrugged off, harboring no hard feelings for her brother's actions.Â
âYou didnât know, and Iâm pretty sure most little girls hate bugs, Sammy. You were kids, acting like kids. Itâs not your fault I was never allowed to be one too.âÂ
-
Despite the fear of bugs that came from that night out in Palm Springs, Grace Winchester still adored the rain, and how it gave whatever streets it fell upon a chance to start fresh when the clouds cleared. Droplets of cold rainwater pelted the ground beneath the Impala, the wipers working fast to clear away the drops that pattered against the windshield without a rhythm. She had stolen one of Deanâs sweatshirts for a change, wanting something heavier than her own clothes, and the material threatened to drown her frame as she shoved her hands into the front pocket, pulling at her fingers as she coached herself into bravery, wanting to prove to herself more than anyone else that she was capable of still doing her job even when fear ran down to the very center of her bones.Â
Lights glimmered in the distance, an ambulance and squad cars pulled up to the house where Lynda Bloome had mysteriously died hours earlier. Sam was behind the wheel once again, Dean in the backseat for a change, not that heâd had any choice in the matter. Sam and Grace had already been in the car when heâd finally come out of the bathroom, and as if he could sense that something of importance had been discussed without him present, heâd slid into the backseat with only a huff of annoyance. Grace had craned her head to grin at him as Sam backed out of the garage, and all Dean had done was roll her eyes and mumble something about how she was a âprincessâ beneath his breath.Â
She stepped out of the car in time with Sam, pulling the hood of the sweatshirt over her hair and sticking close to Dean, not wanting to drag yet another umbrella out of the trunk. Dean didnât mind, holding the pole just slightly at an angle, letting it cover her entirely. Rain pelted his shoulder, but if he cared, he didnât even grimace as the leather of his jacket became slick with tracks. They walked up to Larry who was on the phone, an umbrella in his hands that was similar to their own. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he noticed them, shoving the phone into his pocket before giving over his attention.Â
âHello, youâre, uh, back early.â He commented, clearly frazzled by their unexpected appearance. At the end of the day, it wasnât the death of Lynda that bothered him, it was the fact that he could lose business over it. Grace had to resist rolling her eyes at his attitude, wondering how somebody could become so detached from reality that they prioritized a sales deal over real relationships. Twenty years working a job like this, and even she still shed tears over the victims they couldnât save.Â
âYeah, we, uh, just drove in. Wanted to take another look at the neighborhood.â Dean explained away their sudden appearance, his eyes scanning over the houses that filled the block.Â
âWhatâs going on?â Sam questioned.Â
Larry sighed, his eyes darting in the direction of the house that Lynda had passed within before they found the siblings again. He looked straight at Sam, hardly even acknowledging Grace. âYou guys met, uh, Lynda Bloome at the barbecue?â He questioned, glancing at the body bag that was being placed into the back of an ambulance just a few feet away.Â
âThe realtor.â Sam nodded, establishing that the connection had been made.Â
âWell, she, uh, passed away last night.â Larry explained, and for the first time, Grace saw a wrinkle of despair in his expression, proving that beneath the businessman persona, Larry did have a heart in some capacity.Â
âWhat happened?â She asked softly, eyes saddened and understanding as she fit into her role of concerned young woman well. It wasnât all a fabrication however, because at the end of the day, that was the true question that remained unanswered across all of their books.Â
âIâm still trying to find out.â Larry shrugged, his voice wavering as he glanced back at the house for a third time. âIdentified the body for the police. Look, Iâmâ Iâm sorry. This isnât a good time.âÂ
Grace shook her head, waving Larryâs apology off with a soft smile that conveyed her understanding. âItâs okay.â She assured, watching as he nodded before excusing himself, stalking up to the front door where an officer loomed, in the process of roping off the entry points.Â
âYou know what we have to do, right?â Dean questioned, turning to look at Sam.Â
âYeah, get in that house.â Sam sighed, already mapping out possible entry points that excluded the front door. Graceâs eyes lingered on the wooden fence, knowing that theyâve scaled more challenging fences in their past, and that it would certainly be easy enough if they could catch a minute without bustling crowds of law enforcement watching.Â
âSee if we got a bug problem.â Dean prattled off, his hand that wasnât wrapped around the pole of the umbrella jutting out toward the center of Graceâs back. She nearly jumped out of her skin when his fingers crawled up her cotton covered body, her eyes wide and full of fear as she flinched away from the sensation.Â
âDean!â She hissed, her heart racing as she shivered involuntarily. Sheâd only just stopped feeling like there were beetles and spiders all over her body, but now that feeling was back tenfold, and her face flushed with anxiety as she tried to quell the brewing storm of memories as the rain seemed to splash harder against the ground beneath her feet.Â
Sam shook his head, pulling Grace into his side, his arm slinking around her shoulders protectively as his fingers brushed against her comfortingly. âNot cool man.â He directed the comment at Dean, his jaw set as he watched Grace swim within her own head, her pupils dilated with fear that he now knew wasnât as baseless and irrational as heâd previously thought. How many times had they triggered her without knowing? How many times had she brushed off and forgiven their jokes when it stirred nothing but panic and fear inside of her? Sam hated to think about what those answers would be if he asked.Â
âItâs fine, Sammy.â She brushed it off, not wanting to dwell on the situation when Dean had no reason to think that his jokes were beyond insensitive and triggering. Her attempt to derail the conversation was futile though, because heâd already begun to figure that something was going on, and his jaw clenched with annoyance as he glanced between Grace and Sam.Â
âWhatâs going on with you two?â He questioned, but Grace only brushed him off.Â
âNothing.â She excused. âOnce some of these idiots leave, we can definitely scale that fence and go in through the window. Place like this, itâs definitely unlocked.â She explained, nodding toward the corner of the street. Sam agreed, saying nothing further, and for once, Dean let the topic drop without arguing.Â
They retreated back toward the car, Grace climbing into the backseat without even acknowledging Dean, who was ready and willing to take that seat for himself again. She only smiled softly when he glanced back at her questioningly, and for a second, his eyes softened and he smiled back. âFigure these idiotsâll be out here for at least another hour. Thereâs a diner up the road, you hungry?âÂ
âI could eat.â Sam shrugged, leaving the decision up to Grace, who nodded in the affirmative.Â
-
An hour later, all three siblings were standing outside of Lyndaâs house with full bellies. Grace had ordered a mac n cheese from the kids menu after deciding she wasnât hungry enough to finish anything bigger, and Dean hadnât let her hear the end of it since the waiter served her her food on a small plate with a fond smile; equally amused herself. As they stood on the sidewalk, assessing the best plan of action for how they were going to get into the window, he was still snickering quietly to himself, and both Sam and Grace had had enough.Â
âShut up!â She groaned, slapping her palm against his head, rolling her eyes when he recoiled in mock offense. âNot everyone lives off of cheeseburgers, asshole. And donât think I didnât realize you stole I bite when I went to pee!âÂ
âI had to make sure you werenât being poisoned!â Dean rebutted, his eyes glimmering with amusement that had Grace breaking into a smile as well, the anxiety that had gripped her in the earlier hours of the morning no longer so heavy and paralyzing. âAlright, Sammy goes in first. You follow, and Iâll be right behind you. Got it?âÂ
Both Sam and Grace nodded, accepting the game plan without complaint. Sam leapt up onto the fence, making it look far easier than it actually was as he shoved his foot into one of the holes and reached for the shutters on the side of the house, holding on with one hand while his other pried open the window. Grace, whoâd temporarily been referred to as monkey when she was three and climbed anything in sight, had no trouble following his movements, even daring to laugh as she stumbled through the window and into Sam who steadied her with fond amusement etched across his green stare.Â
âRemember that time you and Jess scaled the fire escape at that frat house?â Sam laughed, recalling a night that felt like years ago, but was really only a couple of months ago as they waited for Dean to climb up the fence and join them in the bathroom.Â
âOh my god, yeah!â Grace laughed softly, shaking her head at the memory sheâd more or less buried since leaving Stanford behind, âShe kept freaking out about falling. I was sure she was going to pass out.â She continued on, but her smile wilted as she and Sam connected eyes, both suddenly sobered up from their momentary bout of nostalgia as reality came crashing in on them once more. âI miss her too, you know.âÂ
âI know.â Sam sighed, patting Graceâs shoulder before he pulled away from the embrace looking toward the window as Dean stumbled in. Sam was quick to turn around and pull the window closed, all three of them focusing on the crime scene beneath their feet now. The black tape on the floor in the shape of an unconscious body was eerie, but a definite sign that they were in the right place.Â
âThis looks like the right place.â Dean affirmed what theyâd already gathered, and began to lead the way into the bathroom, leaning down to pick up a rag that was crumpled on the floor. Grace stepped just over the threshold separating the bedroom and bathroom, moving just slightly to the side so that Sam could see as well, not willing to get any closer than she absolutely had to to what she desperately hoped wasnât a pile of dead beetles. Her face paled when Dean picked the rag up and dead spiders fell onto the floor, their lifeless bodies shriveled up in odd positions that sent shivers down Graceâs spine. âSpiders. From spider boy?â Dean questioned, turning to look at Sam and Grace, the washcloth still between his grasp.Â
âMatt.â Sam corrected, adamant that Dean refer to the kid by his name, but his efforts were beginning to prove that they only lead to even more taunting. âMaybe.â He reluctantly agreed, sighing heavily as he stared down at the pile of spiders, desperately wanting to be wrong about even considering Mattâs involvement.Â
Grace had begun to slowly pull away from where Dean was crouched down on the blood stained tile, hardly noticing that she was stumbling backwards at all until her back hit the wall. Her breath hitched just slightly, eyes trained to the pile of arthropods that she could swear was moving toward her. She nearly jumped out of her skin when something thudded against her shoulder, and she definitely did when she glanced down, finding a spider just slightly caught within wild strands of her braid.Â
âGet it off! Get it off! Get it off!â Her entire body was frozen in fear, eyes wide and pleading as they flickered between both of her brothers, although she wasnât really seeing them at all. Her hands flailed frantically at her sides, breath hitching as she became hyper aware of every minor sensation happening against her skin, almost certain that she could feel something crawling up her calf despite her pants being tight around her ankles.Â
Suddenly something was pressing against either side of her face, gentle but gruff against her skin that felt disgustingly clammy as the circulating air brushed through the room. Her unfocused eyes eventually focused again, becoming less glassy as she recognized Samâs face in front of hers, blocking her sight from the spiders on the floor. His voice felt like it was years away, but she could make out the rushed words nonetheless.âHey, hey. Youâre good. Itâs good. Itâs gone. Itâs gone.âÂ
Grace shoved him away from her panickedly, batting against his chest with her palm when he hardly even budged, looking down at her with concerned confusion. He eventually got the hint and backed out of her way, just in time for her hands to seek out the ledge of the sink and expel everything sheâd managed to eat at lunch. She groaned after a minute, reaching for the faucet with trembling hands, letting the water run until the bowl cleared and she could reach in and cup a handful, bringing it to her mouth quickly. When she spat it out, she didnât look up right away, keeping her head craned above the sink and her eyes pinched shut, forcing herself to remember that she wasnât stranded in the woods, nor was John even around to see her break like this at all.Â
When her chest didnât feel so tight anymore, she stood up fully, reaching for the faucet and turning it off. She pulled Deanâs sleeve over her hand, wiping at her mouth. âYou good?â Her eyes trailed to find Dean, his voice the one that had called out for her attention. His eyes were clouded with mixed emotions, his cluelessness conflicting with his natural response which was amusement. Grace could tell he was getting suspicious, connecting dots that had been in front of his face the entire time, but wasnât entirely sure how the picture he had all the pieces to was supposed to look.Â
âI really fucking hate spiders.â She groaned, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, attempting to relieve some of the pressure that was building at the front of her head. âI need to get out of here.â She didnât wait for her brothers to agree, stepping past Sam and heading for the window without so much as a glance back.Â
-
Grace woke up to someone tapping her shoulder with gentle urgency, and instinctively she leaned away from the disruption, her green eyes squinting open as she attempted to avoid the blinding brightness beyond the Impalaâs backseat. She groaned quietly in exhaustion, but took in her surroundings just enough to recognize that the car was parked on a busy street corner directly beside a high school, and it was Dean who was standing in front of the car door, attempting to rouse her from sleep.Â
She shrugged off his hand, straightening her posture as she furrowed her eyebrows. Sheâd fallen asleep shortly after climbing into the backseat back at Oasis Plains, but more than a few hours had passed since then and the dirt caked beneath Deanâs fingernails insinuated that something had happened whilst she was essentially dead to the world. In any other case, she wouldâve been pissed that they didnât wake her, but she wasnât too perturbed about missing out on even more conversations about killer insects.Â
âHey, switch with me.â Dean inclined his head toward the high school, stepping out of the way so that Grace could climb out of the car. She didnât question why he wanted to switch, figuring that whatever the reason was, it wasnât a topic for others to overhear, let alone adolescent children getting out of school.Â
She slid into the passenger seat, pulling it forward so he wasnât as crammed, and only then did she notice that Sam was on the other side of the car, putting a box down on the leather seats beside Dean. Curiously, she leaned over to peak inside, immediately regretting that decision when she found a bunch of dirt covered skeletons and worms. She groaned, pulling her head away and instead focusing on the road in front of her, beyond ready to finish this case and get moving onto the next, even if that meant they were just one step closer to locating John.Â
âDo I even want to know what I missed?â Grace questioned, pulling her legs together as she sat criss-cross applesauce in the passenger seat, something her brothers couldnât even imagine being able to do. Even with the seat pushed up as far as it could be without Grace practically eating the dashboard, Deanâs knees hit the back of the chair and he shifted slightly in an attempt to find a comfortable position.Â
âUh, not really.â Sam grimaced as he closed the drivers side door, starting the engine and peeling away from the curb. âMoral of the story is we think these bones are whatâs attracting all the bugs.âÂ
âAnd the kid? Matt?â Grace turned to look at Sam, having figured that they were at the high school he attended, and theyâd most likely talked to him at some point.Â
âNot connected. Smart, though. Figured out something was going on, just didnât know what.â Grace hummed as she nodded, accepting that her brothers had a good grip on the case without her help. âYou okay now?â Sam asked after a beat of silence, his eyes shining with concern that made Graceâs chest clench. She hates when sheâs the reason theyâre worried; hates that half of what they worry about isnât even in her control at all.Â
She nods her head, but the way she bites at her nails tells both of her brothers that sheâs lying. âI mean, this case isnât all sunshine and rainbows to begin with, Sammy. Given the circumstances, Iâm as good as I can be.âÂ
âYeah, and what are those circumstances?â Dean calls from the backseat, finally having had enough of the apparent secrecy that was happening between his two youngest siblings. Grace sighs softly, soft eyes flickering to Dean in the rearview mirror, but Samâs jack locks, and he shakes his head.Â
âNothing, dude.â He defends, but Grace just shakes her head, knowing that Deanâs not going to relent until they tell him something believable.Â
âNo, itâs not nothing. You two have been weird all day. I mean, really, whatâs going on?â There was an edge to Deanâs tone that had Grace inching closer to the passenger door, a thickness in the air between Sam and Dean that she didnât want to be included in at all. She sighed again, green eyes falling shut as she drew in a deep breath.Â
âWhy can you never drop anything, dude?â Sam continues to try and go at Dean, but Grace puts her hand up, ending their arguing before it could really begin.Â
âItâs fine, Sammy.â She shrugged off his glance, craning her head to look back at Dean who was sitting in the middle of the leather row, his jaw locked, impatience etched across his features. âYou remember the hunt in Palm Springs something like fourteen years ago? The spirit that killed those two girls? Dad took me out to salt the bones for the first time?â Â
âYeah, and? What about it?â Dean questioned, evidently still annoyed as he barely even glanced at Grace. She bristled at the clip in his tone, sighing softly as she turned her gaze back to the road. The rain had stopped at some point, but the ground still glistened as the Impalaâs headlights reflected off of puddles.Â
âWhy do you even care if youâre just going to be an asshole about it?â She huffed, sinking down into the seat, suddenly not so willing to share moments of her troubled past with him. Dean sighed regretfully, letting his shoulders drop as he glanced at Grace softly, but the damage had already been done. The woman in the front of the car had dealt with irrational anger being directed at her for the entirety of her life, and although she still had trouble asserting her own personal boundaries, she wasnât about to deal with Deanâs anger when whatever his problem was had to do with Sam and not her. âJust forget it. Where are we going?âÂ
âSomehow, whateverâs happening here is connected to these bones. Figured we should probably find out where they came from.â Sam flicked the left blinker on, turning down a street that evidently led to a college campus if the swarms of young adults with backpacks walking around was any indication.Â
âRight.â Grace hummed, climbing out of the car when Sam pulled over, pulling the keys out of the ignition without saying anything more. Dean caught her wrist before she could follow Sam, keeping her on the sidewalk as he basically pleaded with her to forgive his earlier attitude. âNot now.â She pulled her arm free from his grasp, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over her hands as she caught up with Sam.Â
âSo a bunch of skeletons in an unmarked grave, maybe it is a haunting?â Grace questioned as they trekked toward the anthropology department. âI mean, pissed off spirits, not a far fetch to say at least one of them has some unfinished business.âÂ
âYeah, maybe. Question is, why bugs?â Sam nodded at the suggestion, fixing his jacket over the box, not wanting to draw attention to the bones he carted around with effortless nonchalance like they were only a collection of old textbooks. âAnd why now?âÂ
âUh, thatâs two questions.â Dean muttered, something clearly on his mind as he matched Grace and Samâs pace but contributed nothing to their back and forth. âHey, so with that kid back there how could you tell him to just ditch his family like that?âÂ
âJust, uh, I know what the kidâs going through.â Sam explained, not seeing where Dean was going with his line of questioning, although Grace figured that theyâd already butted heads about the topic while sheâd been asleep in the car. Deanâs aggravation made a lot more sense now, but she still didnât feel like divulging pieces of her past even if his temperament was called for. Heâd burned that bridge and she didnât know when sheâd ever be ready to rebuild it.Â
âHow about telling him to respect his old man? Howâs that for advice?â Dean kept pushing, kept trying to make his opinion of Samâs decision known, though it wasnât like neither he nor Grace ever even had a chance to forget about his feelings toward Stanford when almost every conversation led back to the topic in some capacity. Grace understood both of their perspectives, probably more than either of her brothers realized, but Deanâs unwilting loyalty to John was even too much for her to be okay with. Sheâd give him her patience, allow him to unmake every memory of childhood at his own pace, but pushing his own experiences onto Sam was far more than she could tolerate. One day, Dean would have to accept and understand that all three of them were treated differently by John, and for that they were each entitled to their own feelings about him.Â
âDean, come on. This isnât about his old man. You think I didnât respect dad. Thatâs what this is about.â Sam fought, stopping right in front of the department building, his jaw tight as he glanced down at their older brother.Â
Dean scoffed, shaking his head. âJust forget it, okay? Sorry I brought it up.âÂ
âI respected him. Even when he beat the shit out of Gracie. Even when he bailed on us for a fight he wasnât even sure he could win. But no matter what I did, it was never good enough.â Grace hates that she respected him too, hates that maybe she still does. He was the first person to show her how cruel the world could be to someone smaller, weaker, kinder, but heâs also the man that raised her. The man that raised her brothers, and despite everything, kept a rough over their heads; even if it was an ever changing one. She hates that after everything, the smallest part of her heart still yearns to win over his pride.Â
âSo what are you saying, that dad was disappointed in you?â Dean asks, stopping a few feet ahead.Â
âWas?â Sam scoffs, a perturbed smile crossing his lips as he shakes his head. âIs. Always has been.âÂ
âWhy would you think that?â He genuinely doesnât understand where Samâs coming from, because even if he hates John Winchester for how he treated his only daughter, just like Grace, there are pieces of him that only want to remember the good. And, there was good. Not for Grace, never for her, but for him and Sam, there had been undeniable good mixed into the unavoidable bad.Â
âBecause I didnât wanna bowhunt or hustle pool because I wanted to go to school and live my life which, to our whacked-out family, made me the freak.â Sam defended, his palm slapping against his thigh as he tried to keep his frustration at bay, but with each quip from Dean, his reserve was breaking more and more.Â
âYeah, you were kind of like that blonde chick in The Munsters.â Deanâs smile only further annoys Sam, and Grace can only roll her eyes at her eldest brother's inability to ever have a serious conversation about Samâs very real resentment towards John. There was only black and white in Deanâs world, but Sam had long ago discovered that life was more gray than anything else.Â
âDean, you know what most dads are when their kids score a full ride? Proud.â Sam sighs, his voice softening as he begins to break, not possessing the energy to keep having the same conversation over and over again with little to no understanding from their brother. Grace frowns, knowing how much it had hurt Sam that John couldnât have cared less about his scholarship. Sheâd been proud, unbelievably so, but she understands that her pride would never be enough to fill the hole in his heart that John had left empty. âMost dads donât toss their kids out of the house.â
âI remember that fight. In fact, I seem to recall a few choice phrases coming out of your mouth.â Dean rebutted, and Grace wanted to facepalm at that moment. Deanâs perception of family dynamics was so beyond tainted that even years later, he couldnât even begin to recognize that it wasnât Samâs job to keep the peace between himself and John. She couldnât blame Dean, heâd never known anything other than this life and surviving by whatever means necessary, but she wouldnât agree with him either.Â
âYou know, truth is, when we finally do find dad I donât know if heâs even gonna want to see me.â Sam admits, and Grace has to refrain from drawing in a heavy breath at the mention of reconnecting with John. Ultimately, that was the goal, the reason they were even working this case â or any case â at all, but it was easy to forget about the pending reunion when every lead they followed came back empty. She didnât know if sheâd make it out alive once she was back beneath his thumb, but that wasnât what she needed to put her energy into right now.Â
Dean bristles, something that doesnât go unnoticed by Grace, who frowns at his conflicted expression. Where she could see both of her brothers' sides in the argument, neither of them could ever seem to meet eyes on their own opinions; both of them too stubborn and fueled by trauma to recognize that all theyâd ever been trying to do was survive by whatever means necessary, with whatever cards they were given. Grace knew that Dean had it harder than Sam, she recognized that, but Sam just couldnât grasp how much Dean had sacrificed to practically raise them on his own whenever John was working a case. He followed orders because it kept them safe. He defended Dad because he desperately wanted them to feel like their lives werenât so unorthodox and out of control. He didnât know how to stop fighting the battle because the battle was all heâd ever known. âSam, dad was never disappointed in you. Never.â Dean shook his head, and Grace could hear the sincerity in his tone, but Sam couldnât â he didnât want to, not yet anyways. That was the problem with them. Everything had to be at their own pace, in their own time. âHe was scared,â
Sam scoffed, shaking his head as he cut Dean off, who for once was being painfully genuine and transparent. âWhat are you talking about?âÂ
âHeâs afraid of what couldâve happened to you if he wasnât around.â Dean filled in the blanks, and Graceâs heart thumped in her chest. âBut even when you two werenât talking he used to swing by Stanford whenever he could. Keep an eye on you. Make sure you were safe.âÂ
âWhat?â Grace froze, eyes wide as she looked at Dean for answers. Nausea pools in her belly, her chest tightening as she realizes that she had never fully been out from beneath her fathers thumb. Sheâd been with Sam for almost a year. It had taken her months to feel like she could be whoever she wanted without word traveling back to John, but now she was confronted with the fact that heâd always been there, always lurking, watching. Maybe he was there for Sam, maybe he never hid within the shadows to check up on her specifically, but heâd still been there. Heâd still been there as she did all of the things heâd always told her she couldnât do. Would he be pissed off when they found him? Would he punish her tenfold because not only had she left him behind in the middle of the night, but sheâd gone and made a mockery of their family name? Her mind flashes to moments when sheâd been less than perfect. When Jessica had dared her to do shots at a party, and sheâd ended up so drunk that she puked in the bushes on the walk back to the apartment. When Sam had dragged her out to the fountain in the middle of the night, and theyâd jumped in still in their clothes, claiming that it was a rite of passage at Stanford. Had he been there in those moments? Had he watched as she shed layers of scar tissue to instead embrace freedom and comfortability? Was she ever going to fully be free of his presence, or was she cursed to always be looking over her shoulder?Â
âWhy didnât he tell me any of that?â Sam craned his head, eyes flickering to Grace for only a moment before his attention fell back to Dean, needing to know why John had never tried to reach out to him when he was apparently worried enough to drive out to Stanford.Â
âWell, itâs a two way street dude. You could have picked up the phone.â Dean answered, and Grace wanted to scoff at the excuse, but she was frozen in fear, her mind racing a million miles an hour as she overanalyzed all of the times when sheâd felt like somebody was watching her but had chalked it up to (valid) paranoia. They may be adults now, but it was never going to be their job to fix the relationships they had with John. âCome on, we're going to be late to our appointment.â He inclined his head toward the doors, stepping forward to keep moving, but Grace remained frozen, her eyes blurred with tears that stung and threatened to fall as she blinked. âGracie, come on.âÂ
âUm, Iâll, uh, meet you at the car. I needâ Iâm gonna go find food.â Grace could barely get the words past her lips, but by the time that she had constructed the sentence, she was turning on her heels, putting distance between herself and her brothers without even waiting to see their responses.Â
Sheâd spent eleven months and seven days â yes, she counted every last one â at Stanford with Sam. It had taken her a month to even leave the apartment for the first time after showing up on his doorstep in tears, and three months to stop looking over her shoulder every time she did. Sheâd put in the effort to reinvent herself however felt authentic and right, and there had been something sacred built on the promise that John Winchester would never know who she had become without his influence and restrictions. Sheâd never had a lot of things in life, but sheâd at least had the chance to live her own way. But, now she was finding out that it wasnât really her own at all. The nights sheâd walked home from the part time job sheâd gotten at the diner in town, and sheâd clutched her bag tighter out of instinct when it had felt like eyes watched her closely. The days when sheâd be out with Jessica, laughing and talking like her spirit had never been weighed down by fear, only to shrink into herself when the memories came back and learned instincts took over. Wherever she went, John Winchester followed her. Sheâd known that, but Sam had promised she was free of his control. She doubted that, but sheâd trusted him anyway. Sam was wrong. She was naive. No matter how far she ran. No matter how hidden she made herself. She would never be unpinned.Â
Her chest tightened as she glanced around the campus square. Was he here now? Had it become something of a game to him? How were they to know if he lurked in the shadows? Suddenly Grace couldnât breath, and she stumbled her way to a bench across from the department building. Her body crumbled onto the wooden boards, feeling heavy and tense as her vision blurred. For a moment, the sounds around her faded, but then they all came rushing back seemingly louder than theyâd been before. She wheezed, blunt nails digging into the wood beneath her, clawing at any chance of finding solid ground to focus on.Â
Minutes later, the bench shifted beneath additional weight, and Graceâs gaze snapped to the right. She half expected to see her father glaring back at her, but instead, she met the eyes of a student who was probably her age, if not just a few years older. His face was kind, but tired, and his shoulders slumped to accommodate the heavy weight of his backpack.Â
âSorry, didnât mean to startle ya.â He apologized, having clearly noticed the way her grip tightened on the wooden boards beneath her thighs.Â
âNo, youâre okay. Just got lost for a minute there.â She brushed him off weakly, her voice hoarse as a result of the emotions that had accumulated in her chest within such a short span of time.Â
âWhat classes are you taking?â The student questioned, expecting Graceâs stress to be related to coursework, which wasnât the farthest fetched conclusion given they were in the heart of a lively campus.Â
âOh, Iâm not a student here. Iâm not even from Oklahoma.â She laughed softly, the tightness in her chest ebbing away as she focused her energy on the casual conversation at hand, glad to be talking about something mindless and surface level for a change. She was getting really tired of long emotionally demanding conversations.Â
âOkay, Iâll bite. Where are you from?â Grace hadnât meant for her earlier remark to come across any kind of way, but she canât help but smile regardless. Something tells her the boy beside her knows a thing or two about fishing for conversations, and she canât say she minds using him as a distraction.Â
âKansas. But, Iâve lived practically everywhere. New Yorkâs probably my favorite.â She doesnât remember the last time sheâs gotten to talk about something like this; probably months ago when Jessica was still around, but the sentiment remains. There was no need to have these conversations with her brothers, theyâd all been there when moments happened, they all knew each other enough to just know these things based on body language, but it was nice to feel like someone was seeing her for a change. It got to be draining when all you ever were to anybody was a brush of wind in the night. Their lives were meaningful, she knew that, but that didnât mean it was easy never having anyone around that cared about who you were as a person, not just an asset or an ally.Â
She doesnât know how much time elapsed on that bench, but she knows that Sam and Dean came back far too quickly for her liking. She stood when Sam came into her line of sight, offering Weston an apologetic smile as she pulled at the hem of her hoodie, preparing to join the boys at the car. Weston, who had turned out to be a third year communications major from a town not even twenty minutes north, waved as she turned to leave, laughing beneath his breath when she stumbled over her untied laces and tried to play the entire thing off with nonchalance.Â
She gave him one last glance before she dunked into the backseat, sighing softly as she closed the door behind her, not even getting the chance to consider putting her seatbelt on before she sped away.Â
âGracieââ Dean started, but she shook her head.Â
âIf itâs about Dad, or a bullshit apology for being an asshole earlier, I really donât care. What did you find out?â She questioned, not in the mood to have another conversation tethered to their father in some capacity. This case was enough without Deanâs remarks.Â
âThe bones are Native American. Thereâs a Euchee tribe in Sapulpa that might know more.â He sighed, backing down from what was originally going to be his point of conversation. Grace nodded, saying nothing more as she crossed her legs, looking out the window as the scenery blurred together.Â
-
They walked into the diner after asking around, and immediately Dean led the way toward a man at a table, laying out playing cards. âJoe Whitetree?â He asked, receiving the slightest nod of confirmation from the long haired man.Â
âWeâd like to ask you a few questions if thatâs alright?â Sam tucked his hands into his pockets, keeping his voice even and unarmed as he approached. Grace stood between them, a kind and welcoming expression on her face despite how utterly done with the case she was. She wanted something different, something that was more guns blazing and literature. She hated when all there was to do was flounder around until they found something that stuck. And, she especially hated that everything they stumbled upon related back to their father as if the very premise of the case wasnât enough for her wounded heart.Â
âWeâre students from the university.â Dean began, but Joe was quick to dismantle that lie. Dean bristled at the confrontation, beginning again with another lie heâd thought up, but Joe didnât take the bait for even a second.Â
âYou know who starts sentence with truth is? Liars.â Grace couldnât help but smirk a little at the manâs persistence for the truth, and instinctively she stepped out from behind Dean, facing Joe with a soft smile.Â
âMr. Whitetree, have you heard of Oasis Plains?â She asked softly, glancing down at his playing cards for only a second before she was searching his eyes again. âItâs a housing development near the Atoka Valley.âÂ
Whitetreeâs eyes met hers with fondness, and his lips curved into a jesting smirk as he flicked his gaze to Deanâs. âI like her. Sheâs not a liar.â Grace only smiled more, a soft laugh falling off of her lips as she glanced at Dean to see him pull a palm down his face, clearly exasperated. âI know the area.âÂ
âIs there anything you can tell us about the history there?â She asked cautiously, preparing for this to be dangerous water with the older man, but he only inclined his head curiously.Â
âWhy do you want to know?â He fired back at her, though there was no defensiveness in his tone, and for that Grace was grateful. She couldnât handle another hostile man on this case.Â
âSomethings happening there, and well, I think it might have something to do with some old bones we found down there.â She answered, being honest with the man, but still keeping the full truth closer to their inner circle. âThe bones⌠theyâre Native American.âÂ
âIâll tell you what my grandfather told me, what his grandfather told him. Two hundred years ago a band of my ancestors lived in that valley. One day, the American cavalry came to relocate them. They were resistant. Cavalry, impatient. As my grandfather put it, on a night the moon and the sun shared the sky as equals the cavalry first raided our village. They murdered, raped. The next day, the cavalry came again and the next and the next. And on the sixth night, the cavalry came one last time and by the time the sun rose every man, woman and child still in the village was dead.â Grace didnât break her stare with Whitetree, but she was highly aware of her brothers connecting eyes behind her, and with their attention diverted, she tried not to draw attention to the way her body tightened at the details of the retelling of events. Enough secrets had slipped into the air already, there were just some that didnât need to see the light of day along with the others. âThey say on the sixth night as the chief of the village lay dying he whispered to the heavens that no white man would ever tarnish this land again. Nature would rise up and protect the valley and it would bring as many days of misery and death to the white man as the cavalry had brought upon his people.âÂ
âInsects. Sounds like nature to me.â Dean muttered to Sam, before looking back at Whitetree, who had finally allowed his gaze to leave Graceâs. âSix days?â He double checked, earning a nod from Joe.Â
âAnd on the night of the sixth day none would survive.â Joe reaffirmed what heâd already mentioned, and the siblings nodded acceptingly.Â
âThank you, Mr. Whitetree.â Grace smiled appreciatively before she followed her brothers out of the small diner, their minds reeling as they pieced together the information theyâd just learned and what they already knew.Â
âWhen did the gas company man die?â Sam questioned as they stepped outside, heading back to the Impala to hopefully finish all of this once and for all.Â
âFriday.â Grace hummed, not even having to think about it. She was good with dates, she always had been. It was one of the few strengths that John Winchester saw in her.Â
âMarch 20th. Thatâs the Spring Equinox.â Sam pieced together the information that had been staring them in the face since the start. Grace wanted to bash her head into the wall for not considering the connection beforehand.Â
âThe night the sun and the moon share the sky as equals.â Dean hummed, and Sam nodded, confirming that he was correct.Â
âSo every year about this time anybody in Oasis Plains is in danger. Larry built this neighborhood on cursed land.âÂ
âUh, the sixth night would be tonight.â Grace piped up, looking at Sam with evident concern in her eyes.Â
âIf we donât do something, Larry's family will be dead by sunrise. So how do we break the curse?â Sam questioned, standing at the passenger side door of the Impala, not in the mood to be the one to drive. Grace didnât even try to claim the position, just following him along to the left side of the car, waiting for Dean to unlock the latches so that she could slip into the backseat.Â
âYou donât break a curse. You get out of its way.â Dean shook his head, unlocking the car and beginning to sink into the driver's seat, but not without voicing the urgency that they all knew they faced. âWe gotta get those people out now.âÂ
-
Hours later, they were still on the way back to Oasis Plains, but Dean wasnât taking his chances with the family. As headlights reflected off of damp roads, he held his phone up to his ear. âYes Mr. Pike thereâs a gas leak in your neighborhood.â He explained, but without the call being switched to speaker phone, neither Grace nor Sam could hear what Larry was saying on the other end. They simply waited with baited breath to hear Deanâs responses, desperately hoping that Larry didnât prove hard to convince. âWell, itâs fairly extensive. I donât wanna alarm you, but, uh, we need your family out of the vicinity for at least twelve hours or so just to be safe.â By the way Dean was answering questions, Grace knew that they werenât going to stand a chance with convincing Larry to leave Oasis Plains behind. âTravis Weaver. I work for Oklahoma Gas and Power.â There was a beat of silence before Dean stuttered, pulling the device away from his ear and flipping it closed in frustration.Â
Grace sank back against the backseat, sighing in exasperation for headstrong men that didnât know how to help themselves any. She watched as Sam reached for the phone next, hurriedly typing numbers into the keypad. âMatt, itâs Sam. Matt, just listen, you have to get your family out of that house right now, okay?â There was undeniable urgency in Samâs tone, and Grace could only hope that it didnât freak the teenager out to a point where he became less than helpful. âBecause somethingâs coming.âÂ
Grace looked out the window, watching the world pass by in the form of blurred together hues and shades. Dean was going as fast as he could, but even that was proving to not be enough as the night dragged on later and later and there was still distance to cover before they got to the Pikeâs residence.Â
âYou gotta make him listen, okay?â Sam stressed, but that wasnât enough for Dean, who reached for the device, pulling it up to his ear as his voice hardened.Â
âMatt, under no circumstances are you to tell the truth. Heâll just think youâre nuts. Tell him you have a sharp pain in your right side and you gotta go to the hospital, okay?â Dean barked his orders sharply, and for a minute, all Grace saw was John telling her and the boys how to weasel their way into a case as children and young teenagers. Once theyâd been embraced into the hunting world, John had no shame in using his children as bait. She couldnât even recall how many times heâd told her to approach random strangers and get them talking, nor how many times he disregarded her safety to pull information out of a case. She knew Dean had good intentions, knew that this was for Mattâs benefit, but she couldnât help but think that all of this had started for them as little white lies constructed by their father.Â
Evidently, Matt agreed because Dean slapped the phone closed for a second time and turned his attention to Sam. âMake him listen? What are you thinking?âÂ
Grace rolled her eyes, not bothering to tune into their bickering. Sheâd had enough of the squabbling for a day, and so instead of paying attention to the way Sam clapped back defensively, she pressed her head against the window, watching the trees blur together as they passed.Â
When they eventually pulled up to Oasis Plains, making a sharp left before they approached the Pike household, all three of them sighed at the front lights turned on and cars still in the driveway. âDamn it, theyâre still here. Come on.â They got out of the car with efficiency, and for the first time ever, Grace desperately wished that this was one of those hunts that could be handled with a gun. She was a near perfect shot, but that wouldnât do her any good against what they were facing, and she felt entirely too vulnerable going in with only her senses.Â
As they approached the front door, Larry came storming out, his finger jutted out in their direction threateningly. âGet off my property before I call the cops!â He demanded.Â
âMr. Pike, listen.âÂ
âDad, theyâre just trying to help.â Matt interjected from the front porch, but Larry swung to address him quickly, his tone still raised and sharp as he turned his wagging finger to his song.Â
âGet in the house!â He demanded, and Grace couldnât help but bristle at the sharpness of his order, her chin dropping to her chest as she recalled the many times John had yelled that same command at her before sheâd been met with a world of pain from his bare hands.Â
âS-Sorry. I told him the truth.â The kid said apologetically, and suddenly Larryâs anger made a lot more sense. Grace sighed, but she couldnât blame him either. Dean had been asking a lot of him and hadnât even considered how Matt would feel about lying to the person that only ever saw his worst assets.Â
âWe had a plan, Matt. What happened to the plan?â Dean snapped, his frustration bubbling over and being directed at the first person it could be. Unfortunately, that was Matt. Grace smiled softly at the boy, hoping that she could ease the guilt pooling in his stomach even slightly with the simple expression.Â
âLook, itâs twelve am. They are coming any minute now. You need to get your family and go before itâs too late.â Sam continued to try and plead, but Larry wanted to hear none of it. Grace hated that she couldnât blame him for being defensive and critical, but it was in moments like this where she wished people had more blind faith in others.Â
âOh, yeah, you mean before the biblical swarm.â The man rolled his eyes, and Dean had finally had enough.Â
âLarry, what do you think really happened to that realtor, huh? And the gas company guy? You donât think something weird's going on around here?â He laid out the facts as blandly as he could, not having the time to stand there and hold Larryâs hand as he fought to prove the legitimacy of their claims.Â
âLook, I donât know who you are but youâre crazy. You come near my boy or my family again, weâre gonna have a problem.â The man threatened, but it wasnât anything that the siblings hadnât heard a few hundred times already when they were working cases that involved real people and families.Â
âWell, I hate to be a downer, but we got a problem right now.â Dean fought back, his tone level as he tried to break through the man's strong reserve.Â
âDad, theyâre right. Weâre in danger.â Matt tried again, persistent in his efforts to sway Larryâs decision to remain in Oasis Plains. Grace could only appreciate his courage, especially when Larry turned to yell at him again, and he didnât even bristle in the face of confrontation. She knows that she wouldâve backed down and scampered away the second John so much as turned his head to look at her. She could face monsters and things that went bump in the night, but put her in a room with her father and she was nothing more than a terrified little girl just wanting to avoid any additional pain and torment. âWhy wonât you listen to me?â His voice raised, trembling as he finally broke, not able to act like Larryâs constant shoving aside and berating didnât bother him.Â
âBecause this is crazy! It doesnât make any sense!âÂ
âLook, this land is cursed! People have died here! Now are you gonna really take that risk with your family?â Sam raised his voice, but Grace wasnât focused on the fight at hand, rather the distinct buzzing that was happening on all sides of her. Her chest tightened as she realized they were too late; that the insects were already here.Â
âWait!â She called out, voice trembling despite every nerve in her body screaming to keep it together. âDo you hear it?âÂ
Larry snapped his head toward the bug catcher on the porch, his eyes squinting as he took in the sound of audible buzzing, noticing that the electric trap zapped more frequently than it had been all night. âWhat the hell.â He commented, reality finally beginning to sink in as he snapped his gaze back to the siblings.
âAlright, itâs time to go. Larry, get your wife. Sam.â Dean turned to address his siblings, but he was cut off by Matt calling for their attention, his head craned toward the sky as they watched a swarm of insects rise over the treetops and make their way toward the house.
Grace felt her chest tightened even more, her hands beginning to shake at her sides as she realized that she was out in the open, vulnerable to whatever assault would come. For a moment she was frozen, her gaze turned toward the sky as her breathing became uneven and labored, but then something was grabbing her hand, and before she could really recognize what was happening, she was being dragged up the porch steps and into the house.Â
âNo, no, no.â She mumbled on a loop, her hands tangling into her hair as she pulled at the roots, pacing back and forth as commotion ensued around her. She didnât pay it any attention, she couldnât, not with the way her mind was going blank and all she could think of was that night in Palm Springs when everything had changed. She wished she could go back to then, to hours before sheâd ever gotten in the car with her father and headed off toward the woods. Things hadnât been good, but they hadnât been terrible either. That day in 1991 was the last time that Grace Winchester had ever really been a kid, and she could feel herself slipping into the vulnerable defenselessness that she felt then as she forced herself to remember that there was nothing they could do about the fate theyâd found themselves tangled into. All that there was to do was wait and hope for the best, but the best had never found her easily or at all.Â
âGracie, hey! Hey, come on! Nowâs not the time, okay, sweetheart? I need you with me right now. I need you here.â Dean held her face in his hands tenderly, but unrelentingly. He pulled her hands away from her hair, his eyes filled with determined urgency that only just barely managed to sober her up from her state of panic. Adrenaline rushed through her veins as she nodded, breathless as she raced alongside him to where Larry and Joanie kept their spare towels and linens.Â
She grabbed a towel from his hands with numb fingers, forcing it beneath the gap in the front door as efficiently as she could with the trembling in her knuckles that just wouldn't stop. Her body was moving, but there werenât any thoughts in her head besides survival. She knew that the Pikes were yelling, that frantic conversations were being had, but it was all static noise in her head as she tried to keep her breathing even and her senses as alert as they could be. She didnât even register the fact that Sam had come downstairs or that Dean had grabbed a can of bug spray from the kitchen until there was an incessant rattling coming from the fireplace and in seconds a swarm of bees rushed in. Every breathing exercise that sheâd even known failed her in that moment, and the composure sheâd managed to grab onto left within seconds. She whimpered pathetically, stuttering over soft cries as she panicked, right back in those California woods. Â
âCome on, Gracie! Come on!â Sam grabbed her hand, dragging her up the stairs with efficiency. She could follow him, that was what she could do, but her feet thudded on the steps as she climbed them and her chest only tightened as she tried to draw in even a single breath.Â
Somehow she made it up into the attic, and the second Samâs hand left hers, she was falling to the floor with a thud, scooting back until her back hit a wall. She curled up into herself, her head between her knees as she rocked back and forth, muttering desperate pleas and frantic apologies beneath her breath that were drowned out by the frantic yelling of the Pikes. Somewhere between the first swarm of termites chewing through the wood and the second, sheâd passed out, slumping against the boards of the house in a useless pile on the floor. In a single moment of distraction, Sam shrugged his jacket off, throwing it over her exposed face before he went back to trying to find a solution with Dean. Every instinct in his body told him to go over and check on her, rouse her back to consciousness, but that wouldnât do any good if they were dead by morning anyways. Instead, all he could do was hope that the insects had a harder time getting to exposed inches of her vulnerable body.Â
It was minutes later when she roused, and the swarm of termites was still attempting to cleanse the land of their presence. She glanced to her left, scrambling into the corner of the attic where her brothers were crouched desperately. She threw herself at whoever was closest, letting out heartbreaking and raspy sobs as she dug her face into their neck, the hood of the hood pulled over her face just enough to keep the bugs from bouncing off of her skin, but she could still feel the thud of their dense bodies hit the fabric on her body. And then, it stopped. She didnât move, didnât loosen her hold, but eventually it became clear that the swarm had left, and her chin was guided upward by gruff hands that she knew to be Deans.Â
âYouâre okay, Gracie. Itâs okay.â Dean coaxed softly, holding the back of her head as he analyzed her face for any bites or injuries. He frowned softly when he noticed three red blotches on her cheek and another on her forehead, but considering the circumstances, sheâd come out relatively unscathed. âItâs over. It's done.âÂ
-
The very next morning, when the Impala pulled up to the Pike residence, there was a moving truck parked at the curb and Larry was standing beside the bed, packing up the little belongings that theyâd moved into the house. She climbed out of the car with her brothers, walking up to where he stood in casual attire as opposed to the suits sheâd typically seen him wearing during the daytime. Â
âWhat? No goodbye?â Dean called out sarcastically, catching Larryâs attention.Â
âGood timing. Another hour and weâd have been gone.â Larry hummed, reaching out to shake Deanâs hand in silent thanks.Â
âFor good?â Sam questioned, shaking Larryâs hand next. Grace could only offer a small smile, still reeling from the events from the early morning hours. Her chest still ached, her breathing was still wheezy, and every time she closed her eyes she constructed a scene of Palm Springs that looked eerily similar to the night's endeavors.Â
âYeah. The, uh, developments been put on hold while the government investigates those bones you found. But Iâm gonna make damn sure no one lives here again.â Larry explained, and the Winchesters nodded understandingly.Â
âYou donât seem too upset about it.â Sam noted.Â
âWell, this has been the biggest financial disaster of my career, butâŚsomehowâŚI really donât care.â Larryâs gaze flickered to Matt, and Grace couldnât help the weak smile that pulled at the corners of her lips as she watched him finally recognize what was most important in life.Â
She laid a hand on Deanâs shoulder, nodding toward the car. âIâm gonna go wait in the car.â She explained, her voice hoarse and quiet, hardly louder than a whisper and she honestly couldnât say if it was a result of her sobbing, or a learned instinct after years of forcing herself to be invisible. Either way, she tried not to think too much about the weakness she was showing in front of Larry and her brothers. âDonât take too long. Please.âÂ
Dean nodded, patting her back as she passed him. Whatever happens next, all he hopes is that Grace could finally catch a break.
#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x sister!reader#dean winchester x ofc#sam winchester#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x sister!reader#sam winchester x ofc#supernatural#supernatural x reader#supernatural x sister!reader#supernatural x ofc#john winchester
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Iâll show you heaven if youâll be an angel - Sam W



Sam Winchester x fem!reader
On his birthday, Sam finally gets a night to relaxâand you make sure itâs one heâll never forget.
Content warnings ; smut, established relationship, soft dom!sam, praise kink, teasing, oral (reader receiving), unprotected sex, aftercare
Word count ; 1,075
Minors please do not interact!!!
The Bunker was quiet.
Dean was out on a supply runâhis words, but you suspected it was just an excuse to give Sam the night off. Or more specifically, a night with you. After all, it was Samâs birthday, and youâd been planning something special for weeks.
The plan was simple: dinner, a few drinks, a slow descent into the kind of night Sam wouldnât forget.
Youâd cooked for him. Lit candles, poured whiskey, worn that soft dress he likedâthe one that clung just enough to make his brain stop working. And now here you were, sitting on his lap in the library, your legs straddling his thighs as your mouth dragged across his jawline.
His big hands gripped your hips, fingers flexing like he was barely holding back.
âYou sure you wanna do this here?â he murmured, voice low, already husky.
You smiled against his throat. âI locked the door.â
His chuckle vibrated through your chest. âSmart girl.â
âI know what my birthday boy likes.â
His lips found yours thenâsoft and slow at first, like he was savoring you. But it didnât take long for the kiss to deepen, his tongue coaxing yours into a rhythm that had your thighs squeezing around his hips. Sam was so good at thatâmaking you feel drunk off him before heâd even touched you properly.
And then he did.
One hand slid up under your dress, fingers tracing the lace edge of your panties before slipping beneath them.
You gasped into his mouth, hips canting forward.
âAlready wet for me,â he whispered, dragging his fingers through your slick heat. âYou were planning to let me unwrap you like a present, werenât you?â
Your whimper was answer enough.
Sam lifted you off his lap with barely any effort, one arm under your thighs, the other cradling your back. He carried you to his room like you weighed nothing, kissing you between steps, breath hot against your skin.
When he laid you down on his bed, he looked at you like you were something holyâlike he couldnât believe you were real. Then he sank to his knees.
You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as he hooked his fingers into your panties and pulled them down your legs with agonizing slowness.
âSamâŚâ
âShh,â he said, trailing kisses along your inner thighs. âLet me enjoy my gift.â
And then his mouth was on youâhot, gentle, perfect. His tongue moved with reverence, with hunger, like heâd waited all year for this moment and he was determined to make it last.
You couldnât stay quiet.
Not with the way he sucked on your clit, not with the way two fingers curled inside you just right, dragging moans from your throat like confessions. Sam was focused, relentless, murmuring praise against your heat.
âSuch a sweet girl for me⌠taste so fucking good⌠thatâs it, baby, just like thatâŚâ
Your orgasm came fast and hard, hips stuttering as you cried out his name, your hands tangled in his long hair.
He didnât stop until you were shaking.
When he finally pulled back, his lips were slick, his eyes dark with want.
âSamâplease,â you begged, pulling him up, tugging at his shirt.
He shed his clothes quickly, and God, he was beautifulâall long limbs, tan skin, those broad shoulders and soft eyes that looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
âNeed you,â you whispered, pulling him over you. âNeed you inside me.â
âYou have me,â he said, brushing hair from your face. âAlways.â
He slid into you slow, stretching you inch by inch, both of you gasping at the feeling. He was so big, always filling you just right, like you were made to take him.
He started to moveâdeep and steady, his forehead pressed to yours, one hand tangled with yours above your head.
âYou feel so good,â he groaned. âSo warm⌠fuck, baby.â
Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting every thrust with a rising desperation that turned you both wild.
He hit that spot inside you over and over, building you up again until the pleasure was unbearable.
âCum for me,â he whispered against your lips. âBe a good girl and cum for me.â
You shattered, crying out his name again, your body arching as you clenched around him.
Thatâs what did it.
Samâs rhythm faltered, his breath stuttering before he buried himself deep and came with a low groan, his hand still gripping yours tight.
Sam didnât let you goânot even after the aftershocks faded and the heat between you settled into something quieter. His arms stayed around you, your bodies slick with sweat, tangled in the sheets, chest to chest as your breathing slowly synced.
âYou okay?â he murmured, brushing your damp hair away from your face.
âMhm.â You nodded, still dazed from the intensity. âMore than okay.â
He leaned in and kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your jaw. âYou were incredible,â he whispered. âSo beautiful. So good for me.â
You smiled softly, nuzzling into him. âI meant it. I wanted tonight to be special. You do everything for everyone else all the time, Sam. I just wanted you to feel taken care of.â
Samâs throat worked as he swallowed, and he held you tighter, like he couldnât quite find the words. âYou already do,â he said eventually. âJust by being here.â
He shifted gently, slipping out of bed for a moment despite your sleepy whine of protest. But he came back with a warm cloth, carefully cleaning you up, whispering soft apologies when you flinched at how sensitive you still were.
âYou donât have toââ
âI want to,â he said, kissing your knee as he worked. âItâs my birthday. Let me spoil you a little too.â
When he was done, he pulled a soft hoodie over your headâhis, of courseâand helped you into fresh underwear before climbing back into bed with you, tugging the blanket up over both of your bodies.
You curled into him, warm and clean and safe in the steady rise and fall of his chest.
âDid I do okay?â you asked, voice quiet in the dark.
Sam pulled you tighter. âYou gave me everything I couldâve wished for tonight.â
There was a beat of silence, filled only with the low hum of the Bunkerâs lights.
âHappy birthday, Sam,â you whispered.
His lips found the top of your head. âBest one Iâve ever had.â
Liz talks : ITS SAMS BIRTHDAY!!!! I wrote this super quickly last night so if itâs bad donât tell me!! Also my first sam smut I think??? So yay!! (Title is based off of I can fix him (no really I can) by t swift I loveeeee that song.)
Tags : @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel , @sunnyteume , @deanswifeyy , @tinas111 , @kimxwinchester | @deanswidow , @nymphet-quenn , @multiversefanfics , @star-maker-rain-dancer , @juicifeur , @saltcxrcle , @mochiclouds
Taglist Masterlist
Any kind of engagement is highly appreciated <3
#liz writes â๨ŕ§ËâĄË ࣪#sam x reader#sam winchester headcanon#sam winchester drabble#sam winchester spn#sam winchester fanfiction#supernatural sam winchester#sam winchester supernatural#sam winchester#sam winchester fluff#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x you#sam winchester x gn!reader#sam winchester x y/n#sam winchester x ofc#sam winchester smut#sam winchester comfort#supernatural#spn#spnfandom#jared padalecki#jared padalecki x reader#jared padalecki x you#jared padalecki smut#jared padalecki fanfiction#jared padalecki fluff#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fluff#supernatural fic#supernatural fandom
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Gifs for my SPN Fic on AO3
OR a crackship Dean/Elizabeth Olsen. Whichever you prefer. But I love OCs. This is a Dean/OC and Sam/OC story.
Summary below!
The first time was 1993. Lena Volkov was sixteenâlost, unmoored, with no memory of who she was or why sheâd landed in the middle of the Winchestersâ lives. Dean was thirteen. Sam, not quite ten. Somehow, despite everything, John Winchester didnât kick her out.
She stayed six months.
The second time was 2005. She was older, haunted by dĂŠjĂ vu and instincts etched deep into her bones. Missouri Moseley looked her in the eye and said, âYour lifeline splits again. Sooner than youâd like.â
And then, just like before, she vanishedâsix months to the day. Only this time, the loss gutted her.
Now itâs 2006. Sheâs backâfor the third time, and maybe the last.
This time, she remembers everything: who she is, what sheâs lost, and whatâs coming. She doesnât know why she remembers. Only that in her world, the Winchesters are fictional. Just characters in a story.
But knowing the future doesnât guarantee it will stay the same. In fact, itâs already changing.
And Lena might be the reason why. The divergence has begun.
This story picks up in Season 2, following a three-part prologue chronicling Lenaâs first two mysterious arrivals in the Winchestersâ world. This is where the real story begins.
#fanfiction#supernatural#dean winchester x ofc#dean winchester x oc#dean winchester#sam winchester x ofc#sam winchester x oc#sam winchester#spn fanfic#spnfandom#spn gifs#elizabeth olsen#ao3 author#ao3feed#ao3fic#ao3 link#ao3#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fandom#supernatural fic
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Perfect (S.W.)
Sam Winchester x Plus sized F! Reader
Request: maybe some s1/2 sam? itâs the reader's first time, and sam js is really sweet to her, focusing on her pleasure, guiding her through everything, and noticing how she reacts to his touches and teasing her, just like body worship lol. nicknames, Sam being lowkey an oral godđ¤ lol. maybe the reader is just a little bit shy because she is more chubby? idk if this makes sense but yeah!! I hope you can do this, have a lovely day <3 đŤśđťđŤśđťđŤśđť
Rating: Mature (minors DNI)
Warning: Some violence, p n v, unprotected (Wrap it before you tap it!), Sam Is an oral god đ¤§, talk of insecurities, loss of virginity.
Gif, not mine*
A/N I am accepting requests and making a supernatural tag list!
The lock behind you clicking locked sounded like music to your ears. Working straight after class from 4-12 was exhausting, to say the least, at a bar nonetheless. Annoying college frat boys, creepy old men, prostitutes (get the bag sis), you get it though life is hard.
âOnly two more months then Im out of hereâŚâ You whispered under your breath. You were right though, only two more months at Standford and you were off to do big things in the world.
The walk back to your small apartment outside of campus was cold and damp. You could feel how moist the air was and the cold breeze hit your face and your legs, yet you loved this weather. Not too hot nor too cold just a bit chilly. The trees around you had orange leaves and every house you pass had pumpkins outside carved with scary or funny faces. Halloween was just around the corner. You were ready for it.
For the first time in two years, you were ready for this Halloween. After everything that happened.
Jess.
You couldnât believe what happened when you found out that Jessica, one of your closest friends from elementary school was killed in a freak fire accident and her boyfriend Sam found her.
You, Sam, and Jess were inseparable at Stanford. Even days before her death you guys were at a bar celebrating Halloween. Well, jess was. You and Sam were wearing the most boring casual clothes ever. You both didnât like the attention.
The Party scene, the crazy frat boys, insane sorority girls. Wasnât your thing. It wasnât his. But it was all for Jess. Which made the arrangement work.
You lost contact with Sam shortly after Jessâs death. Which stung. Thinking he was one of your best friends and you lost your other to the crazy fire. Yet, life goes on.
The door to your apartment was dull, no sign on the door. No welcome mat. Nothing that indicated a human living there. Thats how you liked it.
You opened the door to find it pitch black in the room before you.
Thats odd. Did I turn the lights off? I swear I don't remember turning them off before I left.
Your mind was racing with questions, you reached towards the left, using the dim hallway lighting to shine just enough for you to see your light switch. You flick it and your apartment shines.
Your apartment was dull. School textbooks on the counter, your backpack on the chair. Your small tv looked dusty in the living room from the lack of use, and the sad couches that hardly were sat on.
You were never home hardly, from working shifts at the bar and school. The only downtime you had was in your bedroom in the comfort of your bed with the latest Stephen King book at your disposal.
You hang your jacket on the hanger and throw your keys on the counter. You sigh loudly, your body was ready for that date to the bed.
A bang in your room made you break your train of thought. You turn your head towards your room and grab a kitchen knife. Slowly making your way towards your room, your heartbeat was picking up slowly.
Your door was open like it was before, but you could feel that something was off. You flicked the light on and nothing was there. But, you discovered that your window was wide open and your books from your end table were on the floor.
You walk towards the window and slide it shut and look out. Nothing seemed to be different yet...something felt off.
You took another breath before you felt arms lock your upper half. You scream and thrash to no avail.
"Please don't be scared...I'm just very hungry. You will come back...don't worry." The voice belonged to a man, you know. You thrashed again and looked up to see yourself looking back. Your mirror showed the man behind you.
He was a kid...maybe only 19? Looked like a freshman in college in his Standford Sweatshirt. But, his teeth were sharp. You kicked the wall and to your surprise, you broke his hold on you as you both fell to the ground.
This was your chance.
You collected yourself quickly running through the door and into the living room grabbing the closest thing to you for cover. Which in this case was a light fixture.
The boy walked through the door, his breaths were heavy. "Look I didn't want to hurt you. "
"Well, I really wanna hurt you."
Sam? That voice couldn't have been him.
A bang of a shotgun went off from your right, you looked to your side to not only see Sam but another guy with him with the shotgun. The man beside Sam seemed to notice you staring at him. His green eyes piercing into yours.
âGet behind me!â He yelled.
You didnât have to think twice, you ran behind him and Sam while they took care of the deranged man.
âClose your eyes y/n.â Sam finally spoke to you, a machete in his hand. The man beside him was above the man that was kneeling down in pain with a shotgun pointed at his head. You looked back up at Sam, and his face was still just as handsome as it always was.
âPlease.â
You finally closed your eyes. Hearing Samâs footsteps move in front of you. I could hear the deranged man grunting, âDamn you Winchesters. One of these days. We will Kill you.â
âWell, good thing today isnât the day then.â You could hear Samâs voice and then a grunt following with a thud.
âY/n keep your eyes closed. I donât want you seeing this.â
You kept your eyes closed, tempted to open them. Just to see Sam. He is finally back⌠after everything that happened. Heâs back.
Maybe this is just a dream?
What felt like hours of your eyes being closed was mere minutes as you heard grunting and a door close soon after.
âYou can open your eyes now.â
You slowly opened your eyes, your eyes stung from the bright lights, your vision blurry. You reached your hand up and rubbed your eye one by one. The room was still lit with your lamps on the sides of the couch, but you could see the traces of dark red blood on the floor. You could see they were smeared like they were trying to clean it.
âYouâŚ. Killed that boy?â You looked up at Sam, the person you hung out with the most, missed the most after everything that has happened.
âHe.. wasnât a human. He was a vampire and he was gonna turn you Y/n.â Samâs voice was so quiet, like he was afraid you would be scared of him. But, you knew Sam. He would never lie about this.
âThis canât be realâŚâ You looked around and walked towards the couch. Sam following behind. Sitting beside you.
âIt isâŚeverything in the supernatural is. My family has hunted them for yearsâŚafter my mother died from the yellowed eyed demon. Like Jess.â Samâs voice cracked of mentioning Jess. You slide you hand in his and squeezed.
âA demon killed her?â You didnât want to believe it, but it explains how weird her death was.
Sam took a breathe and looked at you, âYes. He did. But, we are going to kill him. The guy that was with me, thats Dean. My brother. He basically raised me while dad hunted to avenge my mother. Now⌠itâs just me and him.â
Sam never talked about his family much, but he always mentioned his brother a few times. Which explains the facial similarities of the green eyed hunter.
I took a breathe and let his hand go and rubbed my arm,âWhy was the Vampire coming for me?â
Sam sighed, âMe and Dean found leads from recent vampire attacks a few towns over. Has to be a nearby the university. Says why a lot of students went missing too.â You grabbed my phone to see it was now 1:45 am, how has it been almost two hours sense this all happened? âThe boy that attacked you, went missing a few weeks back. He was sent to take you.â
âTo be a vampire?â Your voice cracked a little in fear. Sam nodded, âI wouldnât have let that happen. You deserve a good life.â
You finally did what you wanted to do for so long, you wrapped your arms around Sam and gave him a hug.
âSam Winchester you deserve a good life too. Donât sell yourself short. Thank you for saving my life.â
Sam hugged you back tight, like you were going to disappear any moment.
âYour not safe here Y/n. I got a motel room downtown. Pack clothes and bring a book. I need to know you will be safe.â
ââââââââââââââââââââââââ
2 weeks later
The last few weeks have been eventful to say the least⌠Sam came back, you met his Metallica loving brother, they rid of the vampire nest and overall you finally felt at ease after the two years of not knowing what happened to Jess.
Sam and Dean stayed near Stanford to keep an eye on you and make sure all is well. Coming down any other day and eating at the diner or having a drink at the bar, (which meant free drinks while your manager wasnât working since you were the bartender), and having a new friend and your best friend back. All was well.
Yet, you could feel some tension between you and Sam. Youâve always had a small crush on him, who hasnât though? His thick hair, his height, his hazel eyes, plus his personality? People would be crazy to not have a tiny crush on him.
But, with this small crush you could feel the guilt in the back of your mind. This man was one of your best friendâs boyfriend.
What would Jess think if she was alive?
âY/n!â Samâs voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You looked up at him, your popcorn still in your lap as you weâre watching Scream on the Tv with Sam.
You came back home a few days ago and Sam wanted to spend a night over, since tomorrow he and Dean will be heading to South Dakota to see a friend of the familyâs.
âYeah?â
âYou okay? Youâve been quiet for 30 minutes and you usually never shut up about Billy and Stu.â
âIâm just thinkingâŚâ
Sam paused the movie and turned towards me. âSpill it.â
You sighed and laugh a little. âSam, itâs nothing.â
Sam took the popcorn out of my hands and scooted closed towards me, âMust be something if you are quiet for a long period of time.â
You took a breathe, Sam wasnât gonna give up until you told him what was on your mind, âIâm just thinking about my future. I guess.â You laughed nervously.
âYour future? What about it?â
âJust thinking about everything, what Iâm gonna be doing, Where I will be, If I would marry. Stuff like that.â Sam looked at you seriously after you mentioning marriage.
âY/n, if someone wouldnât marry you. I would be very surprised. Who wouldnât? Your funny, down to earth, strong and plus your personality is amazing.â
You laughed, âYeah. No. Iâm not the looks of someone to be married.â
Moments passed, The silence thickened. You could hear your own breathing and Sam set down the popcorn on the table and took the blanket off of me and him. âGet up and come with me.â
âWhat?â
Sam grabbed my hands and pulled me up towards him. âCome with me. I have to show you something.â As he said that he took your right hand in his and walked towards your room and opened the door.
Your room looked the same as it always did. Bed maid, your window closed, your books on the table.
Sam took you in front of the mirror, him standing behind you.
âWhat do you see?â
You look at him through the mirror and give him an odd look.
âWhat?â
Sam took a breath, âIn the mirror, what do you see?â
âI see meâŚ. We done?â
âNo. You see yourself, what do you see about you? What do you like or dislike?â
You rolled your eyes, âWhatâs your point, Sam?â
"I want you to see the beautiful woman, I see."
Beautiful? He was talking about me? Your mind was spiraling in thoughts. Years of self-doubt, men leaving you since you didn't fit into their "desires". Just to have Sam, your best friend and crush call you beautiful looking at you with no makeup, shorts that showed your curve, thick thighs touching each other, and a tank top that didn't hide your bloated stomach.
Beautiful.
"I want you to see how perfect you are to me. Your personality, your smile, how you change the room. " Sam chuckles, "Even your weird obsession with old 90 movies." Sam's hands gently roam down your body to be around your waist.
Beautiful. Perfect.
Not in a million years those two words would fall out of anyone's mouth. Not Sam's at least, You never would have thought that he would talk about you like that.
âEverything of yours is perfect. Your curves, your hips, your smile. " As he said that his hands were all over your body...touching every inch gently. You look at Sam through the mirror, "Sam..." Seeing his hands on your body felt fantastic and right.
"I know the past two years have been hard, I wish I was here for you. Things happened...but I am here now." Sam said his hand was now on my cheek caressing softly. "Let me have this chance."
You took a deep breath, this felt like a dream. Sam Winchester really said that and meant that.
You look up at Sam and nod your head. Instantly his lips met yours.
The kiss was full of passion yet gentle. Like You were a fragile art piece in a museum. His hand was on your waist and he pulled you in closer as he finished the kiss.
"Is this okay?" His hand had my shirt. You nodded your head and he took your shirt off revealing your black bra.
You covered your stomach as Sam looked at you, he wrapped his hands on your arms and moved them away, "I told you that you are beautiful, don't hide yourself from me.
Sam pinned your arms to your side and from your lips down to your stomach near the top of your pants. He kissed every scar, and stretch mark as he went. Whispering all sorts of sweet nothings, while he kissed you.
Sam looked up at you and smiled, "Take your pants off and lay on the bed baby girl."
You took a deep breath and turned from Sam, slipping your pants off and laying down on the bed. Sam was now shirtless and working on his pants.
Once he was left in his boxers he walked towards you and climbed on top of you, his face above yours. He gave you a small kiss on the forehead, the tip of the nose, and finally your lips.
It felt euphoric, the amount of times you never thought this would happen or even think you would be alone for all your life was out of the equation. You were happy.
With his small kisses, Sam cupped your breasts in his hands and softly squeezed them. Making you moan out softly. He lifted you up and unclipped your bra. You slipped out of your bra and allowed him to throw it on the floor. He kissed you once more before fondling your breasts and using his mouth on your nipple, swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud.
You softly moan and hold his head. Yanking his hair softly, Sam releases your nipple and looks up at you, "Better be careful Y/n. I want to take my time, but I will take you right now if you want."
Sam kissed your breasts and went down to your clothed pussy. Kissing the top of your underwear. His dirty talk made you feel excited for what's to come. Your underwear was soaked and Sam knew it, he rubbed your clothed pussy up and down making you moan out loud.
This was really happening. You were going to lose your virginity to Sam.
"Sam... I've never done this before." You admitted to him. He looked up at you and kissed your lips softly, "If you wanna stop we-" Before he could finish his sentence you cut him off with another kiss.
"I want you Sam."
You kissed Sam once more, deepening this kiss. His hands go back to your underwear and easily slide them off.
He breaks the kiss and goes down to my pussy, looking up at you before licking up and sucking on my clit. You moan out loud feeling the sensation of his tongue, Sam licked up and down and sucked on your clit before using a finger and thrusting in your pussy.
His one finger felt amazing inside, yet it stretched you out. If you couldn't take a finger. When he finally goes inside it may not fit. But, no matter the pleasure right now was overwhelming. You didn't want it to stop.
Sam does stop abusing your clit, rubbing your pussy, and adding another finger. You close your eyes and arch your back up, moaning out.
He was paying attention to everything that made you feel nothing but pleasure. He used his two fingers in a scissoring motion and that plus his mouth on you took you over the edge.
Your eyes feel blurry and your breaths are heavy, you could feel Sam's eyes on you. He leans up and kisses you. "Feel good baby girl?"
You smile and nod, "Yes."
You never noticed that Sam slipped his boxers off, his length hitting your thigh. You look down and take a breath.
It's a lot bigger than I thought...I don't think it would fit.
Your mind was spiraling and you could feel your nerves go through the roof.
"Don't overthink, keep your eyes on me. It will be uncomfortable but I am right here." Sam noticed you were in your head. His hands were rubbing your legs comfortably to make you relax. He kissed you gently and pulled you close to him as he rubbed his cock near your entrance.
Sam pulled away looking at you in your eyes, "You ready?"
A moment passed and you finally nodded your head. You wanted it You leaned up and kissed Sam once more. The head of his cock rubbing against your cunt.
During the kiss Sam thrusted in, You gasped in the kiss and he stopped moving while you looked like you were in discomfort.
When your face relaxed he thrusted again slowly until you told him to go faster.
The pleasure felt amazing, nothing felt better than being with Sam. You didn't want anyone else but him, the feel of his kisses, his touch. Was the most amazing thing you have ever felt.
The feeling of his cock filling you up to the brim felt amazing, how you stretched around to fit him and only him.
Sam was grunting as he thrusted, he started to moan softly kissing you while he thrusted into you. He gripped the sheets beside you as you gripped his shoulders filling him into you.
Sam pulled out and came on your stomach, "Sorry.." He chuckled and grabbed his shirt and cleaned you up, You smiled and looked down at him cleaning you up.
The one thing you knew for sure was that not only Sam was your first love, but no matter what he would always be your last.
#isupernatural#spn#spn fandom#supernatural headcanon#supernatural fic#supernatural smut#supernatural fanfiction#sam winchester x ofc#sam winchester x reader#sam and dean#sam winchester x plus size reader#sam winchester x female reader#dean winchester#jensen ackles#jared padalecki#castiel supernatural#supernatural imagine#supernatural drabble#sam winchester#sam winchester spn#sam winchester smut#sam winchester fanfiction
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Samnesia by PrincessMisery666 [PodFic Version]
Podfic Time â Samnesia (Prologue and Chapter 1)
Are you ready for a legit romance with all the fluff, angst, hurt/comfort⌠and a smattering of smut, with one Sam Winchester?
The care and time @princessmisery666 spent on this beautifully crafted story are evident right from the start. It checks all the boxes for me regarding a great romance with a happily ever after.Â
Run to read this fic here if you haven't already!
~ Sandra
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I started rewatching Supernatural again (I was an OG fan since it premiered, but I stopped watching it around season 8) and now that I checked in the fandom....
Where the FUCK are the Sam centric stories? Particularly Sam x OFC stories???? Multi-chapter, with character development?? Hell, I'll even take Sam/female pairings if they are good
#SURELY I CAN'T BE THE ONLY WOMAN IN LOVE WITH#sam winchester#????#HELLO ?!#If you have recs#please send them my way#Sam Winchester x ofc#Sam Winchester x canon female pairings#Sam centric#sam winchester fanfiction
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Unwanted LAST CHAPTER 12/12 (Sam)
Sam Winchester has been in love with her ever since forever. He has known her for his whole life. Their parents were friends, and they have been too from the moment they were born. She has seen his bad and good days, they've shared thousands of memories and first times. Their first steps, their first day of school, their first prom, their first kiss, and even their first time. Going to the same college was a no-brainer, why would he separate from his best friend? Because, well, that's all that Sam is; her best friend. When his unrequited feelings come to light, what will he do?
Complete story
You could have called your mother for advice, or maybe a friend, like Charlie. You really donât know what possessed you to ring Mary Winchester. Sure, sheâs been sort of like a mother to you ever since you can remember, but sheâs also Samâs mother. A normal person wouldâve been embarrassed to expose themselves like that to someone so close to the cause of their distress. However, these arenât normal circumstances, and youâve always had a good relationship with Mary. Besides, she gives better romantic advice than your mother.
Itâs late at night when you call her. You would have waited for the next day, but you donât seem to be able to sleep since the conversation with Sam. After he bared his feelings for you, you remained quiet for the rest of the meal. It had nothing to do with the fact that you donât feel the same way, but more of the fact that you werenât sure exactly what your heart wants. Itâs a mess, honestly, because, despite the fact that Sam didnât push for a response, the remaining outing was filled with tension. Expectancy for the response downed the atmosphere but also opened new possibilities.
Continue reading
Taglist: @stilinskisthings @deamus-liv @abbygraceasd @sojuxxi
#supernatural#fanfiction#supernatural fanfiction#spn#spn x reader#spn fanfic#sam winchester#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester angst#sam winchester fanfiction#sam winchester x you#sam winchester x ofc
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I Think He Knows - Sam Winchester.

pairing- sam w. x fem!reader; summary - inspired by miss swiftâs song; warnings - nothing really, lower case intended; word count - 1,4k
âââ
the impala's engine rumbled beneath you as the car sped down the long, empty highway. dean was behind the wheel, as usual, focused on the road ahead, while sam sat next to him in the passenger seat, flipping through a book on ancient symbols. you sat in the back, trying to keep your thoughts in check, but it was almost impossible when sam winchester was in the car, just a few feet away.
it was ridiculous, really. the way your heart picked up speed whenever he was around, the way your eyes seemed to follow his every move, even when you tried to play it cool. sam probably had no idea how he affected you. he was always so wrapped up in the hunt, in research, in the next big case.
but lately, there had been momentsâfleeting glances, subtle touches, small smilesâthat made you think *maybe* he knew. maybe he could feel it too, the energy between you, the way the air seemed to hum when the two of you were close. maybe he wasn't as oblivious as you thought.
as if on cue, sam glanced up, his eyes catching yours in the rearview mirror. it was just for a second, but the look sent a rush of warmth through you, making your heart skip a beat. you quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the passing scenery, but the way his gaze lingered made it clear that you weren't the only one feeling this.
the impala slowed as dean pulled into a small, rundown motel on the outskirts of some nowhere town. "alright, this is home for the night," dean announced, killing the engine and stretching as he got out of the car.
you followed suit, grabbing your bag from the trunk and trying to ignore the fact that your hands were shaking just a little. it was ridiculous how much sam affected you, how just being around him turned you into a bundle of nervous energy.
"two rooms," dean said, tossing you and sam each a key. "guess it's you and me tonight, sammy. sweetheart, you're on your own."
you felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment at dean's words. relief because you needed some space to collect yourself, but disappointment because part of you had hopedâwell, maybe more than part of youâthat you and sam would end up sharing a room.
"sounds good," sam said, though his eyes flickered toward you as he spoke, like maybe he wasn't entirely happy with the arrangement either.
the three of you made your way inside, and after a quick exchange of goodnights, you found yourself in your small, dimly lit room. the bed was lumpy, the walls were thin, and the air smelled faintly of stale cigarettes, but you didn't care. all you could think about was the way sam had looked at you back in the car, the way his gaze had lingered just a little too long.
you sighed, flopping down onto the bed and staring up at the cracked ceiling. this was getting out of hand. if you didn't do something soon, you were going to drive yourself crazy wondering if sam felt the same way you did.
meanwhile, while you dwelled in your thoughts, in the room next door, a soft âowâ was heard as a brunette hunter brought a hand up to back of his head and massaged it a little, âdean what the hell,â
âyou are an idiot, thats whatâ dean says, dropping his bag next to his bed and going down with it.
âi have no idea what you are talking aboutâ sam mutters, glancing away from his brotherâs narrowed eyes.
âhave no idea my ass,â dean presses on, âif you dont do anything about your girl, someone else will and dont give me that âi have no idea what you are talking aboutâ crap again, or i swearâ dean pitches up his voice to mock sam.
sam freezes, not knowing what to say or do. because dean is right, he knows that the two of you have been having these stare offs, these moments for weeks now, and dean admitting it now, made it sound even more real than feeling like it was all in his head.
âiâll be right backâ sam says, now sounding determined. he doesnât know what he plans on doing, but he knows he needs to get it off his chest before its too late.
a knock at the door interrupted your thoughts, and your heart leaped into your throat. you knew who it was before you even answered.
when you opened the door, there stood sam, his tall frame filling the doorway. his hair was slightly tousled, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that made your pulse quicken.
"hey," he said softly, his voice low and careful. "you mind if i come in for a minute?"
you nodded, stepping aside to let him in. he walked in slowly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his flannel shirt, like he was trying to play it cool. but you could see it in his eyes, in the tension in his shouldersâhe was feeling it too.
"what's up?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, even though your heart was pounding.
sam didn't answer right away. instead, he moved to stand by the window, looking out at the dark, empty parking lot. for a moment, you thought he was going to say something about the case, or ask you for help with researchâsomething safe, something normal. but then he turned around, and the look in his eyes was anything but normal.
"i've been thinking," he started, his voice still soft, but there was an intensity behind it now. "about... us."
your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel your pulse racing in your ears. *us.* the word hung in the air between you, heavy with all the unspoken feelings you'd been trying to ignore for weeks.
"samâ"
"I think you know," he interrupted, taking a step closer. his eyes locked onto yours, and suddenly, there was no space between you, no distance to hide behind. "i think you've known for a while now."
you swallowed hard, trying to keep your cool, but it was useless. the way he was looking at youâthe way his eyes traced your face, the way his voice had dropped to a near whisperâit was overwhelming.
"what do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
sam smiled softly, but there was something serious in his expression, something that made your stomach flip. he reached out, his hand brushing against yours, a light touch that sent a jolt of electricity through your whole body.
"you know exactly what I mean," he said, his voice low and full of meaning. "the way you look at me... the way I look at you. we've been going around it for weeks now."
your heart was racing, your mind spinning, but you couldn't look away from him. because he was right. you had known. maybe not from the very beginning, but somewhere along the way, you had realized itâthat he saw you the same way you saw him.
"and now?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly as you looked up at him. "what happens now?"
sam's hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. he smiled, that soft, almost shy smile with dimples that made your heart melt.
"now," he said, stepping closer until there was no space left between you, "we stop pretending."
before you could say another word, sam leaned in, grabbing your jaw, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that felt both familiar and brand new. your heart soared as you kissed him back, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.
when you finally pulled away, breathless and smiling, sam rested his forehead against yours, his fingers still intertwined with yours.
"i think i knew," you whispered, your voice light and teasing, even though your heart was pounding in your chest.
aam chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. "yeah. i think i knew too."
and in that moment, with sam's hand in yours and the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifted, everything felt right. you didn't have to wonder anymore. you didn't have to pretend.
because now, you both knew.
#fanfic#x reader#sam winchester x y/n#sam winchester x ofc#sam winchester x you#sam winchester oneshot#sam winchester#sam winchester x reader#supernatural one shot#sammy winchester#dean winchester
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Sam Winchester Drabbles & One Shots
updated May 16 2025
Main Masterlist
Requesting Rules
Buy Me a Coffee
3AM Fights || Summary: You confront Sam for cheating on you.
Letting Go || Summary: Sam doesnât know how to love you.
Lovely Mornings || Summary: you've been feeling down lately and Sam makes you breakfast to cheer you up.
Misery in My Heart || Summary: Sam confronts you when he assumes you're sleeping with his brother.
Nobody Cares || Summary: Sam tells you youâre not important to him anymore, not when thereâs a war coming.
Small Little Bundle || Summary: you watch as your husband holds your first child in his arms
#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x y/n#sam winchester x you#sam winchester x sister!reader#sam winchester x ofc#sam winchester imagine#jared padalecki x reader#jared padalecki x you
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đđđđđđđ â grace winchester has spent her life searching for approval from her father. when she and her brothers find themselves up against a nest of vampires, she realizes its okay to let bridges stay burned.
đđđđđđđ(đ) â canon typical violence, ptsd, mention of anxiety, implied panic attacks/anxiety disorder, mentions of childhood abuse, additional violence, protective dean and sam, gracie finally stands up for herself, dean is serious when he says john will never hurt his sister again, fluff/comfort f you squint and really take it in, oc au
series: love was the law


Grace Winchester hasnât been the same since finding her father, or, her father finding her. Even with him gone again, she flinches at every loud noise, recoils into herself at any innocent touch, and has somehow gotten quieter than she already was. She sits beside her brother at a small table, scrounging for another case to work and monster to kill. Sunlight falls into the diner from every angle, and it catches in her tousled hair somewhat angelically. Sheâs not paying attention to anything around her, entirely absorbed in the newspaper clippings she has between her fingers.Â
âAll right, dude, not a decent lead in all of Nebraska.â Deanâs voice is gruff and gravely, but it hardly breaks through the focus Grace has found. âWhat do you got?âÂ
âWell, I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, cd. Â Dakota. Here â A woman in Iowa fell ten thousand feet from an airplane and survived.â Sam read off of his laptop, though even he didnât sound too enthusiastic about that lead but it's all that heâs been able to come up with since opening his web browser.Â
Dean shakes his head, hands clasped together as he abandons his paper for a while. âSounds more like âthatâs incredible!â than the twilight zone.âÂ
âYeah.â Sam sighs, and his fingers move against the keypad, evidently beginning a search for something else; something real. Grace stays locked into her newspaper, green eyes scanning the pages intently.Â
âHey, you know, we could just keep heading East â New York, Upstate. Could stop by and see Sarah again. Huh? Sheâs a cool chick, man. Smokinâ.â Dean taunted, his smile broad and jesting. âYou two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?âÂ
Sam laughed, scratching at his head as he kept his eyes down and on the new webpage heâd pulled up. âYeah, I donât know. Maybe someday. But in the meantime, we got a lot of work to do, Dean, and you know that.âÂ
âYeah, youâre right.â Dean sighed acceptingly, turning his head to Grace who hadnât shared any potential leads, but looked too interested in the paper to have not found something. âWhatâd you get, Gracie?âÂ
Both brothers sigh when they realize sheâs not even listening to them, and tenderly Sam reaches out to put a hand on the newspaper. His heart breaks when Grace flinches, eyes wide and alert as she looks between Sam and Dean before eventually shrinking into herself and setting the paper down entirely. âYeah?â She asks softly, not even slightly aware of why they want her attention.Â
âFind anything? Sam and I got squat.â Dean asks again, only this time his tone is softer. He hates that for nineteen years, this was the only version of his sister that heâd ever known. He didnât think she was capable of being any other way, but then sheâd come back from Stanford and sheâd been situationally bubbly and sharp witted. He hadnât had the chance to realize that John drained the life from her when they were kids, but he knows now, and he hates that he canât have everything. He can have John, but then he loses Grace. He can have Grace, but then heâs out of the only parent they have left. What Dean Winchester hates the most, is that heâd trade his father for his sister any day.Â
âOh, um, yeah. Daniel Elkins of Manning, Colorado was found mauled in his home. I know the name, I just canât figure out from where, but it looks like the cops donât know what to think. At first they thought it was some kind of bear attack, but now they found signs of a robbery.â Grace explains what sheâd found, her voice as quiet as a whisper but she hasnât been much louder since theyâd connected with John.Â
Dean rummages through his bag to find Johnâs journal, the name apparently sounding familiar to him too. Grace watches him intently, not because sheâs interested, but because sheâs been on edge for days now. âHere. Check it out.â Dean hands the journal to Grace once heâs found something relevant, and the youngest Winchester takes it into her hands with narrowed eyes.Â
âIt has to be the same Elkins.â Grace mumbles after a beat, looking up at Dean who nods agreeingly.Â
âHow can you be so sure?â Sam questions, pulling the journal into his own hands and out of his sisters. He misses the way that Graceâs eyes flicker downward with uncertainty, but Dean doesnât, and he sighs internally. Grace hadnât questioned her capabilities as a hunter when it had been just them out on their own. The eldest Winchester hates that someone he still needs can ruin everything good in his life just by being around.Â
âItâs a Colorado area code.â She explains hesitantly, and Samâs eyes soften when he realizes that sheâd interpreted his genuine confusion as critical doubt. This had been the version of his sister that had shown up on his doorstep over a year ago. This was the version of his sister that heâd left behind without looking back. He doesnât know how he left her so easily back then; not when he can finally see just how broken down sheâd been. He misses the way she rolls her eyes whenever he questions her, and how she used to contribute to their conversations. Heâd spent nineteen years not knowing that his baby sister could be somebody entirely different, but now that he knows that, now that heâs seen that version of her and had gotten to love her, he doesnât want this. He hates this.Â
âAlright. Manning, Colorado. Let's go.â Dean threw a crumpled up napkin on the table, beginning to pack away all of the books heâd pulled out from his bag. Sam doesnât hesitate to follow his action, closing his laptop and reaching for the leather crossbody he refused to wear correctly. Grace grabs the paper sheâd been reading, folding it in half before she stood up, waiting by the corner of the table for Sam before she turned to follow Dean.Â
He held the door open for Grace, and the youngest Winchester whispered a soft âthank youâ as she passed. Dean shook his head, making eye contact with Sam before they followed their sister to the Impala. Daylight was precious and quickly fleeting, so after bags had been thrown into the trunk, all three siblings piled into the car and headed straight toward Colorado.
-
By the time they reached Manning, darkness had fallen over the town. Grace Winchester fought off a yawn as she crawled out of the backseat of the Impala, evidently not having won any measure of rest despite her prolonged silence that left the backseat quiet and still. She stumbled into Sam unintentionally, and her entire body seized with fear instinctively. Her firm-chested brother stepped away from her sadly, wondering what it was going to take to pull her out of her shell again. He hadnât been much help the first time around. He knew too much, felt too much about her to ever think of intentionally provoking her. Jessica had been the one to breach her bubble of solitude. Sheâd been the one to drag Grace to parties and study groups. Sheâd been the one to spend hours in Graceâs room in silence, but eventually that silence became lively conversations that kept Sam awake when he was trying to get rest in before an exam. He mightâve had a little sister for the last twenty years of his life, but he doesnât know the first thing about girls in general.Â
âGracie.â Dean calls for her quietly as he stands in front of the open trunk. Heâs scrounging for weapons, but he has a flashlight already extended toward her. Grace takes it quickly, testing the battery before she nods and steps away, putting unnecessary distance between them.Â
Dean throws one at Sam, not as cautious about his brother's reaction as he was about his sisters. If it was two weeks earlier, he wouldâve thrown one at Grace without warning her, but itâs not two weeks ago, and his sister isnât the same as she was then. Itâs a realization that keeps hitting the Winchesters like a heavy punch, and each time it crosses their mind is as devastating as the first.Â
They creep through the blanket of darkness with precision that only comes with practice. Grace is sandwiched between her brothers, the shift in attitude not enough to derail their routine. She stops behind Dean when they approach the front door of Elkinâs house. Insects chirp from all around her and her skin crawls, but at the very least she takes their presence as a sign of good things. At least it's not eerily quiet. They cross over the threshold with careful footsteps, shining their lights against surfaces in the distance. There isnât much on show in Elkinâs property, but Grace supposes that fits the script of any hunter that sheâs known. They all have a lot of things, but most of those things arenât sentimental or personal. For a moment, Grace considers what her own home would look like if she ever found a way to have that small privilege. She thinks, at the very least, sheâd display all of the childhood pictures they have.Â
They creep further into the house until they find what was once Elkinâs study. Grace grimaces at the evident signs of a struggle, the sight unsettling given Daniel Elkinâs capabilities and knowledge. Something had happened here, that much was obvious.Â
âLooks like the maid didnât come today.â Dean commented sarcastically, sweeping his flashlight against the desk to his left.Â
Sam peels away from his siblings to kneel by the door, his fingers trailing over whatever was thrown across the floor in a thin layer. Grace trailed farther away, shining her flashlight against the walls in the farthest corner. She craned her head when Sam called out, his voice even but laced with curiosity. âHey, thereâs salt over here, right inside the door.âÂ
âYou mean protection-against-demon salt or âoops, I spilled the popcornâ salt?â Dean didnât even bother to glance back, too busy rifling through papers that Elkins had scattered around the place.Â
âItâs clearly a ring.â Sam mused, brushing off his fingertips before he stood up, shining his light in Deanâs direction. âYou think this guy Elkins was a player?âÂ
âDefinitely.â Dean hummed with unmistakable certainty. His younger siblings frowned at his tone of voice and crept closer until they could look over his shoulder at the papers he was flipping to. They werenât just random papers like Grace had assumed they were, but rather a spiral ring journal that held a striking resemblance to something they all knew.Â
âThat looks a hell of a lot like Dadâs.â Sam noted, his flashlight shining against the paper, bringing the black ink to light that was otherwise near perfectly concealed by the darkness of midnight.Â
âExcept this dates back to the â60s.â Dean informed his younger siblings of what heâd read on a page toward the front of the journal. There wasnât time to waste. Whatever attacked Elkins could very well still be in the general area, and with that in mind, Dean grabbed the journal before he backed away from the study, crossing over the salt-lined threshold to find another area of the house.Â
All of the other rooms held the same level of physical distress, which had the baby hairs at the nape of Graceâs neck standing up straight. Furniture was broken, glass was shattered, salt was scattered â it wasnât a good sight, and all three of the Winchesters knew that.Â
âWhatever attacked him, looks like there was more than one.â Dean muttered beneath his breath, creeping toward one of the far corners in the room while Sam and Grace crept toward another. âLooks like he put up a hell of a fight, too.âÂ
âYeah.â Sam agreed, sounding breathless as he swept his gaze across all of the destruction that had occurred. Grace could remember what their motel room looked like at times when John got too involved in a case, and she couldnât help but wonder if some of this had been a result of that same all-in dedication. It wasnât the farthest fetched theory in the world, but it didnât take away from the obvious struggle, so she kept it to herself. There was no point in sharing if what she had to say didnât add any value to the case, John had taught her that when she was seven.Â
Grace was rummaging through a pile of papers that looked like they could be leads for a case when Sam piped up a few feet behind her, his attention aimed on Dean. âGot something?â He inquired hopefully, and Graceâs head snapped to her brother immediately, her full attention on whatever it was that Dean was looking at.Â
âI donât know. Some scratches on the floor.â Dean mumbled, his fingers ghosting over the scratches that from where Grace was standing, looked to be surrounded by pools of blood.Â
âDeath throes maybe?â She questioned lightly, and Sam nodded in agreement, looking back at Dean who was already considering the possibility.Â
âMaybe.â He agreed, but there was something beneath his eyes that had Grace looking in a different direction. She made a soft sound of understanding when Dean reached for a blank paper on the desk, grabbing a pencil and lowering it to the floorboard. She hadnât even considered that as a possibility. Maybe she was getting dull, losing that only thing that made her valuable. âOr maybe a message.â Deanâs eyes widened as he pulled the paper away from the floor, the sliver of light that brightened the room falling against it at just the right angle. He held it out to Grace, âLook familiar?âÂ
The young woman reached for it curiously, familiarity crossing her features within the first handful of seconds. âThree letters, sex digits â the location and combination of a post office box. Itâs a mail dorp.â She breathed the realization, her eyes wide as she trailed her gaze to the door.Â
âThatâs just the way Dad does it.â Dean didnât think before he said it, but itâs as if he can see every wall his sister has let slip come right back up into place. He sighs with conflict that canât be resolved right now, dusting off his hands as he makes his way back toward the Impala. Grace followed quickly, her footsteps falling into step with Deanâs unintentionally. Samâs lips curved slightly at the sight. Their lives had been anything but traditional, but in his sister there was still an innocent little girl. For years she had followed Dean around everywhere, emulating his attitude, mimicking his movements. Their lives mightâve changed, but somewhere within them all were the kids theyâd once been.Â
-
 Grace stayed in the car when the boys ran in to retrieve whatever had been stashed at the post office box. She hadn't wanted to travel too far from the car in paranoid fear that theyâd been tailed to the location, and neither Dean or Sam had been willing to fight her on the subject. It wasnât really a three person job anyways, but as they rushed back to the Impala with a semi-crumpled envelope in hand, Dean couldnât help but feel like something was missing; someone. He hopes whatever rut Grace had fallen into would end with time and patience, because he doesnât know how to lead a hunt when she isnât behind him keeping him in line. There mightâve been hunts when she was away at Stanford, but even back then heâd missed her.Â
The door slammed as the eldest Winchester fell into the driver's seat of the car. Sam was hardly any different, and Grace swore her bones rattled at the force of metal meeting metal ahead of her. âJ.W. â You think? John Winchester?âÂ
âI donât know. Should we open it?â Dean questioned, his voice gravely with concern, but their attention was short lived as knocking on the window shattered their found sanctuary in the leather detailed car. Grace flinched into the farthest door, her eyes wide as they looked up to meet the reflection of her father. Sheâd known that they werenât alone, but her heart still hammers in fear as she sweeps her gaze over the man sheâs least expected to show up midway through a hunt. âDad?â Dean called out, breathing heavily as he pulled away from the window just enough to see out of it clearly.Â
John didnât say anything, instead, he peeled open the back door and slid in right beside Grace on the leather seat. The youngest Winchester tried to remain unbothered, forcing her shoulders to drop and her hands to remain uncurled, but there was no way for her to completely rewire the instinctive reaction that happened whenever her father was close enough to touch.Â
âDad, what are you doing here? Are you all right?â Sam craned his neck to look back at John, but his green eyes found his sister instinctively. Grace was settled as close to the passenger side door as she could get without looking like she was trying to escape her fathers reach, and her shaking hands lay upright on her thighs like sheâd been taught all of those years ago. He can still remember the first time John had backhanded her because sheâd clenched her fingers into fists when heâd been ragging on her âdisobedienceâ and his heart lurched at the violent memory of blood dripping from her cheek after Johnâs ring had sliced her skin. Heâd do anything to switch places with her, get her out of armshot from John, but he canât. Instead, he can only hope that their fathers not here to antagonize her further.Â
âYeah, Iâm okay.â John nodded, keeping his eyes on Sam, not allowing himself to even glance at Grace. The youngest Winchester doesnât know what to make of the situation, but she knows that it's too early to rest entirely. It wouldnât be the first time heâd flipped at the drop of a hat with no warning. âLook, I read the news about Daniel. I got here as fast as I could. I saw you two up at his place.â
Deanâs eyes trail to Grace, her insistence that she stay at the car while they went inside making more sense now than it did only moments ago. For once, sheâd had a right to be on edge, and he hates that he hadnât trusted her instincts more, but it was hard to know when her anxiety was trustworthy. Sheâd spent the better portion of the last week away from John looking over her shoulder without reason. âWhy didnât you come in, Dad?â Sam frowns, pulling Deanâs attention back to the conversation at hand.Â
âYou know why.â John huffed, his voice even and without any care for the wellbeing of his children. âBecause I had to make sure you werenât followed⌠by anyone⌠or anything. Nice job of covering your tracks, by the way.â Grace could scoff at the excuse. They wouldâve been safer had he been in there with them, even if she wants nothing to do with him, he was the one that taught them that there was safety in numbers, and yet heâs always the first to be missing from a fight.Â
âAh, that was Gracie.â Dean shook his head, knowing heâd caught John in a trap. He wouldnât take back what heâd said, no he was far too interested in keeping his pride intact to backtrack on his words so obviously, but the sour grimace that crossed his expression said everything that he wouldnât. Had he known that Grace was the one to cover their tracks initially, he never wouldâve praised her efforts, but heâd already done it, and for once Grace Winchester was getting validation for her efforts, even if it was muddled by the disgusted expression that fell upon their fathers browline.Â
Unconsciously Grace pulled at the seam line in her black leggings, her bottom lip caught between her teeth tightly as she tried not to focus on how her father was so close she could feel the warmth radiating off of his skin. âKnock it off, girl.â John snapped when he became aware of the anxious movements his daughter was making to his left. The young woman, who still hadnât even celebrated her twenty-first birthday and was really only a kid pretending to understand an adult world, stiffened at the reprimand, stilling her fingers on her thighs and straightening out her posture.Â
âWait, so you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?â Sam frowned, and all three siblings bristled at the realization that they would never be enough for their father on their own. Something else always came before them, whether it was a hunt, or apparently a fallen friend. It shouldnât sting anymore, they should be used to it, but Graceâs eyes still flickered to her lap in a moment of weakness.Â
âYeah.â John sighed, but there was no ounce of apology in his whispered words. âHe was â he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting.âÂ
Grace frowned at that, knowing that most everyone John crossed paths with was brought up in some capacity. Whatever John learned, they learned to, and Daniel Elkins was not someone that Grace remembered from passing conversation. âYou didnât tell us about him.â Not everything had gone back to the way that it had been, because if it did, Grace never wouldâve opened her mouth at all, let alone to question Johnâs relationship with another hunter.Â
âI donât gotta tell you shit, girl.â Johnâs eyes were ablaze with anger as he snapped his gaze toward his youngest child, and Grace didnât hesitate to push herself closer to the door, her eyes wide as she stared back at her father whose short temper hadnât gotten any better since sheâd left home. âYou better watch who you're talking back to. You got that?â He seethed, leaning closer until his breath fanned across her face and she was effectively pinned between the car door and his body. She wouldnât be able to bail before his hands caught the fabric of her shirt, but her hand reached for the handle regardless.Â
She nodded frantically, her breath hitching when his hand shot out to grab the fabric of her top. He pulled her closer, close enough to tell that heâd definitely had a drink sometime recently if the stench of beer on his breath was any indication of his alcoholic habits. âI said. You got that?âÂ
âYes sir.â She forced the words off of her lips, hating how they felt like a mouthful of dry sand, but evidently that was enough to break through some of the anger that clouded his eyes with something dark and unwelcoming. He didnât release the tight grip he had on her shirt however, and nervously Grace glanced down at the crumbled fabric that was one sharp tug away from tearing.Â
âDad, heyââ Dean called for Johnâs attention, and suddenly that anger melted away into something else, his gaze softening once it fell upon his boys. He shoved Grace away from him with more strength than what was necessary, and the young woman's head thumped against the window from the unexpected force of her fathers hand shoving her backward. She winced, but pursed her lips together to stop the audible pain from passing into the air and giving him another reason to put his hands on her. She was getting restless, anxious, her eyes were darting between all three men in the car, and whether she noticed or not, tears blurred in her waterline as her breathing hitched to something familiar and worrisome. âWhat happened with Elkins? Why did you never mention him?â
âWe had aâ we had kind of a falling out. I hadnât seen him in years.â Johnâs voice softens, his eyes only on Dean as he speaks. Grace hates that even after years, he canât even look at her without inflicting harm and pain. She doesnât know what happened between them, can remember sparing moments when he hadnât been horrible, but that was as far gone as Mary Winchester. It was like one day, heâd suddenly realized he hated her and had never tried to reframe his way of thinking. Even if she hated him, wanted nothing to do with him, it hurt to know that the only parent she has left doesnât love her the way he was supposed to. âI should look at that.â He nods toward the envelope in Deanâs hand, and the eldest child doesnât hesitate to hand it back to him.Â
John peeled the envelope open carefully, unfolding the paper with a level of cation that heâd never applied to his own flesh and blood. With his gruff hands occupied, Grace raised her own to the collar of her shift, rubbing against the wrinkled fabric and where the neckline of her shirt had rubbed against sensitive skin harshly. Sheâd almost forgotten what it felt like to have fabric burns on her body, but as she presses her fingers over the reddened and irritated skin, every memory comes rushing back to her at once. ââIf youâre reading this, Iâm already dead.â That son of a bitch.âÂ
Deanâs eyebrows furrow, and Sam leans closer to the backseat, curiosity evident in his own green eyes. âWhat is it?â He questioned carefully. John had never treated him the way heâd been quick to treat Grace, but heâd taken his anger toward them out on her, and so the middle Winchester acted with caution.Â
âHe had it the whole time.â John shook his head, but that didnât give any of his children anymore insight.Â
âDad, what?â Sam asked again, and Grace was already sick of them having to ask the same questions multiple times just to get some semblance of a straight answer from him. She doesnât know why he still treats them like theyâre not good enough to be involved in the hunts that heâs chasing, but with every passing second it gets on her nerves more and more. He was the one that dragged them into this life unapologetically. He was the one that had sent them coordinates and essentially led them on a wild goose chase, and yet heâs the one that keeps that an arms length away whenever they're together.Â
âWhen you searched the place, did you see a gunââÂ
Graceâs posture straightens even more, and despite everything sheâs come to learn about avoiding Johnâs anger, she finds herself speaking up, filling in the blanks of his sentence the same way sheâd fill in Deanâs. âAn antique colt revolver?â
Johnâs gaze snapped to her, his hard eyes filled with anger and violent passion, but he didnât comment immediately. Instead, he inclined his head, demanding more than what sheâd already given; giving her permission to say more. âThe gun wasnât there, but the case was.âÂ
âFor the love of god, girl!â He bellowed in frustration, and within seconds his hand was jutting out to make contact with her face. Grace squeaked when the stinging pain registered in her mind, her fathers handprint warm and throbbing against her cheek, but she didnât recoil into herself like she wanted to. That would only fuel his anger more, and it seemed like in the years since sheâd run away, heâd lost any kind of handle on it at all.Â
âDad, what the hell!â Sam yelled, his eyes looking straight at Grace who only shrugged off his concern. Deanâs nostrils flared with anger, his jaw locked with a protectiveness Grace remembers being more controlled, but he didnât comment, didn't want to test the theory that John would still punish her further if they intervened in any way. They werenât children anymore, him especially, but somehow he thinks John will always treat them like they are.Â
âThey have it.â John didnât even bristle beneath the heated glares his sons were throwing at him, and realizing that harboring any ill feelings wasnât going to get them anywhere tonight, Dean drew in a deep breath, trying to push the protective anger out from his rough exterior.Â
âYou mean whatever killed Elkins?â He asked calmly, but his eyes stayed on Grace, not unaware of how she was falling into a panic attack the longer John sat beside her. Her eyes that had once been so clear and green were glazed over with a dark fear that sent a chill down his spine. He still needed his father, still needed advice and direction, but heâd spend the rest of his life lingering in feelings of uncertainty if it meant keeping her safe and unharmed.Â
âWe got to pick up their trail.â Johnâs eyes flashed with urgency, and before any of the siblings could unpack the use of âweâ in his sentence, he was climbing out of the backseat and into the cold Colorado air. The youngest Winchester let out a sigh of relief she hadnât even realized was collecting in her chest, deflating into the passenger side door as she finally brought her hand up to hold where her father had struck her. The skin throbbed and burned beneath her touch, and without even seeing the damage that had been done, she knew her eye would bruise from how his fingers brushed right beneath her waterline. Her lip quivers in an automatic response, but she refuses to cry in front of him â refuses to give him the satisfaction of knowing heâd just broken yet another piece of her slowly dying heart.Â
âWait.â Sam called through the open window, both him and Dean leaning toward it. âYou want us to come with you?âÂ
âIf Elkins is telling the truth, weâve got to find this gun.â John sighed, leaning into the window so that he could see both of his sons; the only two people he even cared about just slightly. Grace was just another box to check, or at least, thatâs how she felt a majority of the time as she sat in her brother's shadows. It was hardly fair. John expected perfection from her, and yet he never gave her an ounce of what he did her brothers. The odds were always stacked against her, but somehow sheâd survived this long. That had to count for something.Â
âThe gun? Why?â Sam continued to press for information, for a reason to put his life on this line for just another weapon, but John refused to give into the valid questioning.Â
âBecause itâs important, thatâs why.â John argued, but for once, Sam wasnât backing down to his bullshit excuses. If Grace wasnât terrified of being dragged out of the car and beaten into a bloody pulp on the gravel road, maybe she wouldâve said something too, but the sting against her cheek kept her firmly where she already was.Â
âDad, we donât even know what these things are yet.â Sam tried to make their hesitancy known, but John was never the kind of man to take excuses of any kind. Heâd give them just enough information to assure they werenât going in completely blind, but nothing entirely helpful. Grace thought it must be some kind of sick game to him. There was no other explanation for his secrecy.Â
âThey were what Danny Elkins killed best⌠vampires.â All three siblings visibly recoiled at their fathers words, a combination of shock and fear filling their eyes as they craned their heads to look at their father.Â
Deanâs eyes widened considerably, his gaze set on John firmly. âVampires? I thought there was no such thing.âÂ
âYou never even mentioned them, Dad.âÂ
âI thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and others had wiped them out.â John hangs his head for a second, accepting his son's disbelief and concern. Grace doesnât even want to consider what Johnâs reaction wouldâve been if sheâd been the one to question him on this. âI was wrong.â
Grace sighed quietly to herself as she sank deeper into the backseat of the Impala, itching to grab the blanket that was crumpled into a ball on the floor, but fighting against it. Instead, she listened to John prattle on about everything that he knew about vampires, her brothers giving him the same attention. âMost vampire lore is crap. A cross wonât repel them. Sunlight wonât kill them and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust â that partâs true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you wonât know itâs a vampire until itâs too late.âÂ
He didnât say anything else other than that heâd tail them to the motel theyâd scouted out a few miles West. The thought of him spending the night with them in a cramped motel room made her skin crawl, but there was no getting out of this. This is what Dean pulled them away from Stanford to do â find John â but Grace hadnât realized just how much sheâd begin to sacrifice just to see through these endless hunts. When he was far enough away to no longer hear the way that rocks and leaves crunched beneath his boots, Dean rolled the window up, starting the car with evident irritation in his posture.Â
He didnât pull away from the post office immediately, instead he turned toward the backseat, ushering Grace to come into view where the lights shone brightly over the center console. âCome here, Gracie. Let me see you.âÂ
âIâm fine, D.â The youngest of the trio whispered, tears still prickling her eyes as she cradled her cheek protectively. She sounded small, scared, and Dean hated that this was his fault. He dragged her back into this, he brought her into the search for John. Even if he hadnât been the one to strike her, it felt like he did as he sat with the guilt of being the reason sheâs here at all.Â
âGracie, let me see.â He insisted, reaching out for her. He hates that she flinches, hates that her eyes that arenât so soft anymore pinch together in fear of another strike, but eventually she caves, leaning closer until her face is illuminated by the glow of the lights inside of the car. âHe got you good, huh?â His thumb strokes across the visible mark of where his fathers palm had clapped against her soft skin, and Grace sucks in a breath between clenched teeth at the sting that comes forward with the continuous prodding and poking.Â
âWhen doesnât he.â Grace hummed humorlessly, and both of her brothers seem to deflate at the reminder that sheâs used to this. They know that she is, know that she can handle constant pain and soreness, but that doesnât make it any easier to swallow when theyâre essentially helpless in the situation. âIâm fine, Dean. Nothing that hasnât happened before.âÂ
Dean, for once in his life, doesnât see John as being his entire world, and softly he tries to make that known to both of his siblings, but more so Grace who seems to only be holding on by a thread. âI can tell him to get lostââÂ
âDonât be an idiot.â Grace huffs, pulling away from his touch to slouch against the backseat. Dean wants to say that sheâs handling this well, that sheâs coming back out of her shell now that Johnâs no longer in sight, but he knows that it's only the adrenaline of having to be on her a-game thatâs fueling this conversation right now. He knows that the second they pull away from this gravel road, sheâll become nothing more than a shadow of herself as she tries to keep everything that wants to come falling out inside. âJust⌠donât try to get between us if something happens, okay? Itâs not worth it.â Â
âI sat there and did nothing for nineteen yearsââÂ
âYeah, because the one time you did say something, he held a machete to my throat and said heâd kill me!â Grace snapped, tears falling down her face as she finally broke. âThis is not about you, Dean! This isnât about either of you! Itâs about me! About how he hates me so much that heâd rather threaten to kill me than apologize for hitting me so hard he fractured my ribs! You wanted him back, well guess what, here he is. Now can we please stop acting like this isnât normal. Like you didnât know this is exactly what would happen when you showed up at Stanford asking for help finding him!âÂ
âGracie, I didnâtââ
âYes, you did. Donât even try to say you didnât think this would happen again. Itâs fine, Dean. Can you just drive, please? Before he comes out here again.â Grace melted into the leather seats beneath her weight, her arms crossed over her chest as she let her tears fall silently, not possessing the energy it would take to shut out her overwhelming emotions entirely. Sam sank into the passenger seat with a sigh, his eyes trailing to Dean who held the wheel tightly, tears glimmering in his own green eyes. Truth is, he did know this would happen, at least some buried part of him did. Heâd been hopeful that things wouldnât end up like this though; been hopeful that for once he could just have his family together without violence. He was stupid to think that grudges and anger would be so easily overcome, and he hates that he pulled Grace away from something good just for her to end up where sheâd started.Â
The engine revs as he pulls away from the post office, tension thick in the car as neither of the siblings say anything else, nobody knowing what to say.Â
-
Despite the motel that theyâd rented a room at, Grace hadnât gotten so much as a wink of sleep in the hours that had elapsed from night to early morning. She couldnât rest knowing that her father sat only a few inches away from the end of the bed that she shared with Sam, and she knows that he knows that despite doing her best to act like she wasnât wide awake with her eyes closed. She shifts slightly beneath the heavy blankets, curling her hands into fists beneath the pillow as she hears the faint static of the police scanner hum to life and him grab his jacket that had been thrown against the chair he pulled away from the table. She barely keeps her body from flinching when his hand bats at her ankle that's beneath the covers, apparently mistaking her body for Samâs as he calls for her brothers to get up.Â
âSam, Dean, letâs go.â He demands, but all her brothers do is groan in response as they try to cling onto sleep. Grace doesnât have the same privilege, and quickly she slips out of bed, putting her sock-covered feet into the tennis shoes sheâs had for nearly two years. Her heart hammers in her chest when she remembers how Jessica had skipped an entire day of classes near finals just to drag her to the mall and take advantage of all the year-end sales that were going on. It had been so long ago now that the laces that were once a shade of pink, were now muddied and twinged brown. Grace would do anything to go back to a time when she could tell that they were pink. âPicked up a police call.âÂ
âWhat happened?â Sam questioned, his voice filled with exhaustion as he peered up at John. Instinctively his hand reached out to feel Grace beside her, and when he came up with only warm sheets, he sat up fully, searching for her until he found her beside the nightstand separating the two beds, reaching for one of Deanâs jackets that sheâd stolen weeks ago.Â
âA couple called 911. They found a body in the street. Cops got there. Everyone was missing. Itâs the vampires.â John explained gruffly, his gaze trailing to Grace when her realized that she was the only one ready to go. His posture stiffened, his eyes hardened and every last piece of Graceâs heart nearly broke as she watched him throw daggers at her. She would never be able to please him, but a small part of her still tries to show up her brothers hoping for scraps of his validation. Â
âHow do you know?â Sam questioned, finally throwing his feet over the side of the bed, meanwhile Dean still hadnât moved an inch, his sleep-filled eyes riddled with conflicting emotions.Â
âJust follow me, okay?â John huffed, already heading towards the door. Dean groaned, swinging his legs off of the bed and standing up finally. Grace didnât avoid his quick glance intentionally, but it still cuts Dean as he sighs to himself.Â
âVampires.â He tries to downplay his obvious hurt, chuckling beneath his breath as he stuffed his bag full without any rhyme or reason. âItâs funnier every time I hear it.â
Grace and Sam rolled their eyes, both throwing their duffles over their shoulder and heading toward the door. Graceâs cheek wasnât as inflamed as it had been the night prior, but beneath her eyes was a purplish bruise that ached deep in her bones. Sam grimaced as the light caught on the undertone of yellow in the wounded flesh, and comfortingly he slung as arm over her shoulder once they passed through the threshold of the motel room.Â
âGet any sleep last night?â He asked her softly, aiming his words for her alone to hear and take in.Â
Grace sighed, shrugging his arm off of her and stepping the slightest inch ahead of him, creating distance that only isolated her breaking heart further. Regardless, she looked over her shoulder, a smirk of indifference resting against her bitten lips. âNope.â She threw her ponytail over her shoulder as she continued toward Baby, not willing to let her father read any kind of emotion in her appearance.Â
Sam sighed, craning his head to look at Dean when he finally emerged from the hotel room. âSheâs gonna be fine, right?â It felt like a cheap question, one that undermined the severity of Graceâs experience with John, but Sam was desperate to hold out hope for his little sister bouncing back the second they could cut ties with John⌠if they ever cut ties with John.Â
âThis time Sammy⌠I donât know.â Dean admitted with a reluctant sigh, hanging his head as he stepped forward, leaving Sam to follow after both of his siblings who were beginning to lose themselves into the roles that John Winchester had demanded they play over a decade ago. The soldier and the shadow. Sam knew exactly where he fit into that, and nausea pooled in his stomach at the thought of ever falling into the mold that John Winchester had crafted for him.Â
-
âI donât see why we couldnât have gone over with him.â Sam rolled his eyes as he leaned his weight against the Impala, watching their father stalk back across the dirt road after what looked like a hostile chat with the town's local officers. Grace wasnât all that bothered by essentially being benched from the game, but she stood at full attention beside the hood regardless of her personal feelings. It didnât matter what she wanted, only that she was perfect and quiet.Â
âOh, donât tell me itâs already starting.â Dean rolled his eyes in the same exasperation that Sam felt, turning his back to the crime scene as he addressed his little brother and willed his gaze not to trail to Grace who still hadnât uttered as much as a word to him; not that sheâd even said more than five words since climbing into the backseat of the Impala.Â
Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, both hands stuffed into his pockets as he looked at Dean. âWhatâs starting?âÂ
Grace rolled her eyes with a silent huff of annoyance, knowing exactly what Dean was referencing even if Sam was otherwise clueless. Neither sibling had time to fill their brother in though, stiffening their shoulders as John approached with his hands shoved into his pockets despite how heâd always reprimanded Grace when she was trying to seek warmth in the biting cold. She can still remember how heâd sliced at the seams of her coat pockets with an army knife when she was eight, rambling on about how heâd cut her hands off if she was just going to waste their usefulness to him. Heâd shoved a shotgun at her seconds later, and she could grimace at the memory of being forced to shoot her first spirit with frozen and trembling fingers.Â
âWhat do you got?â Dean questioned, stepping just slightly in front of Grace when he turned back around to face John. It wouldnât do much if he tried to step toward her, but it was something at the very least.Â
âIt was them all right. It looks like theyâre heading west. We have to double back to get around that detour.â John didnât beat around the bush, but like always, didnât give his children anything of value to hold onto and make their own conclusions about. Grace dug her toe into the dirt, not taking her eyes off of John as she listened to more of his bullshit with an expression of neutrality.Â
Sam frowned, tilting his head to the side as he tried to unmake Johnâs reserve. âHow can you be so sure?â He pushed, not willing to back down on getting the specifics. Grace was glad at least one of them had the gall to question him, because it certainly wasnât going to be her, but she couldnât help but think this was only making the situation worse for them as his questions started to chip away at Johnâs willingness to be civil.Â
âSamââ Dean sighed, trying to stop a fight from brewing so soon, but before he could try and disarm his younger brotherâs irritation, Sam was raising his voice to be heard over the interruption. It seemed that both of their brothers didnât know how to act around their father, but she didnât either, so the insult that was forming at the tip of her tongue stayed unmoving and half-formed and she kept herself a silent observer to the chaos. âI just want to know weâre going in the right direction.â He clapped back at Dean and not so subtly made a dig at John, something that definitely wouldâve gotten Grace into hot water with their old man. Sheâs surprised he hasnât called her out for something already, but she doesnât think heâs stupid enough to get on her case with the police just a few feet away. For now, sheâs safe.Â
John, surprisingly, didnât bristle beneath Samâs weak interrogation, but a quirk in the corners of his lips told Grace all that she needed to know. He thought this was funny; though dragging them around in the dark was some kind of power move. Over a year later and he really hadnât changed all that much, if he did at all. âWe are.â He assured in an unreasonably condescending tone, and thankfully, Sam wasnât quick to take the bait of his reassurances. Grace couldnât stand the slowly rising tempers, or more specifically feared the consequences of rising tempers, but a small part of her was glad that somebody was finally trying to stand their ground to John Winchester.
âHow do you know?â Sam fired back, his eyes hard and slitted into thin lines that didnât hold as much malice as he thought they did.Â
âI found this.â John sighed, pulling his hands out of his pockets to hand Dean what looked to be a fang. Even though she still stood behind Dean, the glimmery of something white caught in the corner of her eye, and she knew enough about the case to make an educated assumption of what had her father so certain of where their next destination should be.Â
âItâs a vampire fang.â Dean frowned, looking down at the tooth that was pinched between his thumb and forefinger.Â
âNo fangs â teeth. The second set descends when they attack.â Grace took the words in carefully, slightly disturbed by the mental image of an entire set of teeth emerging from what was once a human's gums that second they attacked their chosen victim. Sheâd been in this life a long time, had grown a thick stomach to a lot of things, but that mental image was beyond what she could stomach so early in the day. âAny more questions?â He directed his gaze to Sam, who looked to the ground in defeated annoyance but didnât say anything else, letting his silence speak for itself.Â
âLetâs get out of here. Weâre losing daylight.â John took control like he always did, and Grace was the first to follow that order. She shuffled to the car door quickly, placing her hand on the silver handle as John walked back toward his truck. âAnd, Dean, why donât you touch up your car before you get rust? I wouldnât have given you the damn thing if I thought you were gonna ruin it.âÂ
Grace couldnât help but roll her eyes, wondering where her father got the nerve to think so highly of himself and so horribly of them. She didnât say anything in Deanâs defence, but when John had his back to them, still stalking toward his truck without even inquiring to gauge Deanâs reaction to his criticism, she looked toward her eldest brother with a grimace of sympathetic understanding, silently clearing the air that had grown tense and cold between them. Dean hadnât done a lot of things right leading up to this moment, but at the end of the day he was still beneath their fathers thumb just like she was.Â
Sam, however, smirked in amusement, not quite realizing the true sentiment of Johnâs words and what they were armed with. He never had understood how the petty digs cut the deepest for his overlooked siblings, but Grace was simply glad that heâd never learned to question his worth based on materialistic accomplishments. Sheâd deal with his crooked smirk if it meant sparing him the pain of coming to terms with how you're not good enough for the one person who is supposed to love you unconditionally without something to show for it.Â
John pulled out around them, his engine revving as he pulled off onto the road. Sam was on his tail within seconds, one hand resting on the wheel as the other fell beside him. This wasnât like old times, that much rang true, but Grace couldnât decide if it was any better than their childhood had been when they werenât even talking to each other like they used to. She wanted to talk to them, wanted to just be with them, but the paralyzing fear of it somehow getting back to John kept her silent and anxious in the backseat â the perfect little shadow.Â
The car was silent for a while before Dean piped up from the passenger seat. âVampires nest in groups of eight to ten. Smaller packs are sent out to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest, where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks. I wonder if thatâs what happened to that 911 couple.âÂ
âThatâs probably what Dadâs thinking.â Sam hummed critically. âOf course, it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks.âÂ
âSo it is starting.â Dean craned his head to look at Sam, his eyebrows raised in recognition.Â
âWhat?â Sam looked back at him, his jaw clenched as he flickered his gaze between the road and Deanâs exasperated expression.
âSam, weâve been looking for Dad all year. Now weâre not with him for more than a couple of hours and thereâs static already.â Dean didnât comment on the silence falling off of their sister, but nobody was going to breach that conversation when this was how it had always been. Sam considers himself lucky to have gotten to know who Grace is without Johnâs influence in any capacity.Â
âNo.â Sam denied, âLook, Iâm happy heâs okay, all right, and Iâm happy that weâre all working together.â He admits, his words hanging heavily in the air before Dean ruins the stretched thin silence with a petulant mumble of âgoodâ beneath his breath. Grace shifts uncomfortably in the backseat, knowing that Samâs words are only true to an extent, but sheâs still unable to shake the uncomfortable weight of knowing that her brothers are enjoying this time spent with John in any capacity no matter how small. She hates that she canât enjoy it too, hates that sheâs so filled with fear she never fully leaves fight-or-flight mode. Sheâd love to sit here and say that in moments where things are good, or at least tolerable, sheâs happy to be a family again, but thatâs not the truth for her, and it never has been. Sheâd be perfectly fine never seeing John Winchester again and the weight of that breaks her heart for the little girl inside of her that worshiped the ground he walked. âItâs just the way he treats us like weâre children. He barks orders at us, Dean. He expects us to follow him without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal.âÂ
âHe does what he does for a reason.â Dean defends their father like he always does because at the end of the day, itâs the only way he knows how to keep them all safe. Graceâs heart hurts for herself, but it hurts for her older brother who has always had to carry the responsibility of making sure they all come out the other side alive and relatively unscathed. She knows how much heâs sacrificed for them, but that doesnât mean she doesnât want to inflict the most unimaginable pain on him when he gets into the mode of âDaddyâs Soldierâ. Two things can be true at once, Grace knows that, but it doesnât make it any easier to swallow.Â
âWhat reason?â Sam scoffs.Â
âOur job! Thereâs no time to argue. Thereâs no margin for error, alright? Itâs just the way the old man runs things.â Deanâs correct to an extent, but so is Sam, and Grace can see both sides of the battlefield as she lingers on the sidelines. She hates these fights, hates when neither of her brothers' sides are the right one to pick. Deanâs an extremist, but Samâs too eager to find defiance. John Winchester is a horrible person, but at the end of the day he taught them everything they know, and he does know a thing or two that they havenât ever needed to consider.Â
âYeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids, but not anymore, alright?â Sam shook his head, his voice softening as he kept his gaze bouncing between Dean and the road ahead of them. âNot after everything weâve been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me youâre cool with just falling into line and letting him run the whole show?âÂ
âIf thatâs what it takes.â He admits, and even if Grace knew that heâd say that, it still hurts her to think that he considers her being slapped for something out of her control as âwhat it takesâ to complete a hunt.Â
-
There hadnât been much discussed between the siblings in the hours that had elapsed since the sun was positioned in the sky to when it had fallen beneath the trees to touch down on another piece of land somewhere far and hopefully less haunted by evil. But the silence that was becoming normal was abruptly dismantled by Deanâs phone ringing in his jacket pocket. Grace didnât have to crane her neck to look at the caller ID to know that it was John, and with evident disinterest she sank further down in the backseat, listening to Deanâs end of the conversation.Â
It was short, but her head perked up as he nodded in the passenger seat. âYeah, Dad. Alright, got it.â He pulled the phone away from his ear, flipping it closed before he turned his head to Sam. âPull off the next exit.âÂ
âWhy?â Sam questioned, and this time Grace couldnât help but sigh out loud as she let her head hit the window.Â
âCause Dad thinks we got the vampires trail.â Dean filled in the blanks, but there wasnât really much information in the explanation. Grace understood the frustration Sam felt, but she was getting real tired of his sour attitude toward them both.Â
âHow?â There was a venom in Samâs tone that Grace didnât think Dean was blind to, but rather didnât feel the need to play into anymore.Â
âI donât know. He didnât say.â Dean shrugged, and Samâs jaws locked as he revved the engine, speeding around the truck and jerking the wheel until both cars were stopped in the dead center of the road. Grace sighed, sinking further down into the seat as Sam charged out of the car seething with frustration that he couldnât suffer through anymore. âOh, crap. Here we go.âÂ
The car jerked with the force of her brothers slamming the door seconds after one another, and despite every instinct telling her to stay in the car, to let them hash this out on their own, she couldnât just leave them to face their father without her, so she stepped out of the car seconds later, ensuring that distance was kept between her and John.Â
âWhat the hell was that?!â John came storming out of the truck, his nostrils flared and chin raised as he stomped his way toward Sam who didnât back down at the show of confidence.Â
âWe need to talk.â The middle-child seethed, his chin raised all the same as Johns.Â
âAbout what?â John spit, his eyes filled with a fire that was usually directed toward Grace. The youngest Winchester took a step back instinctively, stumbling into the Impala with a near soundless thud. Dean reached out tentatively, pulling her closer by her elbow if only to offer the smallest semblance of comfort. It didnât do much to settle Graceâs nerves, but she appreciated the sentiment of it regardless.Â
âAbout everything.â Samâs voice was filled with fury, and Grace canât think of a time when sheâd heard him so beyond mad. Sheâs always hated conflict, but thereâs something about seeing her calm, always level-headed brother so worked up that has her reeling for something to ground herself to. âWhere are we going, Dad? Whatâs the big deal about this gun?âÂ
âSammy come on, we can Q&A after we kill all the vampires.â Dean stepped forward, his breath fanning across the air as it dawned on Grace how truly cold it was. The mountains didnât care about seasons, and the near frozen temperatures only showed that fact.Â
âYour brotherâs right. We donât have time for this.âÂ
âLast time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous to be together. Now, out of the blue, you need our help. Now obviously something bigâs going down, and we want to know what!â Sam was seething with anger, his jaw clenched and every muscle in his body rigid as he refused to back down. Grace shifted on her feet, inching closer to the chaos despite every instinct in her body telling her to stay away and keep distance between herself and her fathers fists.Â
âGet back in the car.â John demanded, nodding toward the Impala.Â
âNo.âÂ
âI said get back in the damn car.â John stepped closer to Sam. Maybe it was seeing her brother in the position that sheâd always been in, or maybe it was just finally her breaking point. Whatever the reason, Grace found herself pushing past Dean, pulling at Samâs arm until she could position herself between her father and her brother.Â
âHe said no.â She growled, adrenaline rushing through her body as her fingertips buzzed with a sudden energy she hadnât possessed before, or ever. âYou cannot keep doing this! You cannot keep treating us like children and expecting us to act like soldiers! Weâre not soldiers, Dad! Weâre grown adults! Adults that are only here to help you! So why donât you get your head out of your ass for one fucking minute to tell us what the hell is going on?!â Grace flinched when Johnâs hand came hurtling toward her already bruised face, but in a moment of confidence, or maybe stupidity, she caught his wrist between her ice cold finger tips, her hard eyes narrowed into thin daggers that looked a lot like his. âI am not a child that you can manipulate and abuse. Not anymore.âÂ
Grace doesnât know when his wrist slipped from between her fingers, but she recognizes the sting of pain before she even realizes heâs reeled back to hit her again. Her nose pulses with every beat of her racing heart in her chest, and a trail of something warm and thick dirties her upper lips. She doesnât have to wipe at her nose to know that itâs blood, and even though every part of her wants to fall to her knees and cry about how sheâs back in this position when sheâd promised herself the night she ran away that sheâd never come back to this, she doesnât so much as bristle as the breeze trails past her damp face.Â
âIâve had enough of your damn mouth.â John seethed, stepping forward to strike her again as Grace becomes increasingly aware of Deanâs raised voice beside her; the ringing between her ears finally dwindled down to silence as the shock of his previous blow ebbs away.Â
âThatâs enough! Thatâs enough, Gracie.â He pulls her back by the loose fabric of his jacket around her torso, but before she can shrug his hands off of her and step up to John again, the satisfaction of finally standing up for herself an addictive sensation, Dean is slotting his body between them, his shoulders squared and rigid. âThat goes for you too. And I swear, if you ever put your fucking hands on her again, it wonât be her that fights back. You hear me? Do you hear me!â He raises his voice, but John doesnât answer. All he does is scoff and shake his head, already making his way back to the truck.Â
Grace huffs, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. She barely flinches at the blood that smears across her palm and the sleeve of Deanâs jacket, retreating back to the car with pent up anger weighing her down. She slams the door behind her, grumbling beneath her breath as she leans between the seats and sets her eyes on Sam.Â
âSet my nose.â She demands gruffly, her eyes glazed over with residual anger and stinging pain. Sheâs not fully here with them, that much Sam can tell as he searches for glimpses of sweet green in her dark eyes. He doesnât know how to handle the situation when heâs never seen her so⌠Sam doesnât even have a word to describe Graceâs attitude at the moment, but it scares him to no end to consider how after an entire lifetime of abuse, tonight was her breaking point. Pride ripples off of his shoulders â pride in her, pride in himself â but heâs otherwise frozen as he looks at the young woman who bears no resemblance to his little sister at this moment. âSam, set my fucking nose!âÂ
âCome here.â Deanâs voice is gruff as it washes across his two younger siblings, and Grace snaps her gaze toward him instantaneously out of learned instinct. She hadnât heard him get in the car, hadnât registered the door slamming shut or his presence in the slightest, but as the seconds pass her by and the engine in the truck revs beside them, sheâs beginning to fall away from the front of disassociation that had tried to save her active mind from the trauma of confronting the man who scares her more than any monster or spirit ever could. She leans her head into Deanâs hands, already knowing what lies ahead of her as she pinches her eyes shut and nods her head in acceptance of the pain thatâs to come. Dean doesnât give her a countdown, but he feels around her nose for a couple of seconds before heâs gripping both sides of it and straightening it out. She groans, recoiling backward instinctively as another stream of blood falls above her lip. âYou okay?âÂ
âPeachy.â Grace huffs, but as Sam straightens out the car and lets John pull out in front of them on the road again, she deflates entirely, suddenly feeling the weight of her exhaustion as she rubs at her swollen eyes. âYou stuck up for me.â She muses softly, pulling at the tips of her fingers with anxious uncertainty, the invincibility that had washed over her when adrenaline was coursing through her veins slowly dissipating the longer she sat with the memory of recent events playing like a highlight reel in her head.Â
Dean scoffed out a breath, but he nodded his head regardless after a handful of seconds passed by. âYeah, yeah.â He shrugs her comment off, but her eyes are burning holes into his shoulder, and he canât avoid the conversation despite how he wants to. Dean Winchester had never been good at emotional displays, but Grace very rarely gave him the choice of backing away from them. âI meant what I said Gracie, I did think this time would be different. The way he talked about the both of you when you were at Stanford â I just thought heâd at least try to turn a new leaf. Can we cut the chick-flick shit?âÂ
âNo, because I am a chick. That rule only applies to Sammy and you know it.â The youngest Winchester huffed, uncrossing her arms only to drop them at her sides like they weighed too much for her to carry. âYou know that wasnât the first time he broke my nose?âÂ
For once, Dean didnât try to shut down the conversation. For once, all he did was try his best to actually listen to Grace as she opened up her heart to him. He craned his head to peer into the backseat, comforted by the sight of her sprawled against the leather seats. She hadnât sat like that in weeks, sheâd been keeping herself closed off and small, but a piece of Deanâs heart heals as he keeps his eyes on her now.Â
âI donât remember him ever breaking your nose before.â Sam frowned, evidently paying more attention to the conversation than either Grace or Dean had first thought. Frustration and anger was still rolling off of his shoulder in waves, but heâd always been good at keeping his feelings away from Grace. Even if she wasnât aware, she had been both of her brother's soft spots for as long as they could remember.Â
âBecause you werenât there.â Grace says softly, her eyes saddened and brimming with tears. âWhenever Dad took me on hunts⌠they were never as long as he told you they were. Sometimes weâd be gone a week, but the hunt itself would only take two or three days. One timeââ Grace looks down, her hands beginning to tremble at the memory that plays at the forefront of her mind like it had been burned there by someone sadistic and cruel. âOne time, when I had the flu, he took me out to South Dakota to kill some pissed off spirit. Shit went wrong, and he justâ he just flipped; finished the hunt himself and dragged me back to Bobbyâs. He mustâve hit me a few hundred times. That was when he was the worst. When he didnât have to worry about you asking questions, when he didnât have anyone there to stop him. At, uh, at one point he punched me so hard that I fell over, and then he just kept kicking me. I donât remember much honestly. Itâs like⌠glimpses, flashes. All I really remember is that he kept throwing rocks at me, telling me to get up, yelling at me to get up. I tried, but I couldnât and I puked all over myself. That pissed him off even more, he grabbed me by my shirt, pulled me up to my feet. He, uh, he had his hand around my neck. It was one of the first times he said heâd kill me and I actually believed him. If Bobby hadnât gotten back from his own hunt, I really think he wouldâve killed me that night.â Grace, despite herself, smiles sadly at the memory. She canât look up at her brothers. She doesnât want to know what they look like. But, sheâs not done. Somehow, thereâs more to the story that isnât really a story at all. Itâs her life. The tragic and twisted existence of Grace Campbell Winchester. âBobby brought me inside. I didnât think anything was broken, I tried to tell him that, but he wouldnât leave it alone. Iâve never seen Bobby so scared, so terrified for anyone. The way he looked at me⌠I donât think Iâll ever forget it. He looked at me like one wrong move would be enough to finish what Dad didnât. He set my nose back in place, but I canât even remember how Dad broke it. If it was his fist or his foot or one of the rocks he threw, Iâ I donât know. I just know that I stayed with Bobby for a couple of days after that. Dad went off to do another hunt, or I donât know, maybe he just got wasted at a bar and got a motel room somewhere. I justâ all I remember is that four days later he showed up, told me to get in the car, and we drove back to that crappy ass motel he left you at. Before we got inside he told me not to tell you, that if I said anything, heâd have no problem killing me for real and making sure it hurt.âÂ
âGracie, look at me.â Dean pleaded tenderly, his voice thick with tears as he searched for the only pair of eyes that could make him question doing something stupid and reckless but she refused to look at anything besides her blood stained hands in her lap. She doesnât know what had changed her mind about sharing that specific encounter, but she doesnât think she feels any lighter in the aftermath of its exposure. âLook at me, sweetheart. Please.âÂ
Graceâs bloodshot eyes trail up to meet Deanâs after a beat of thick silence, and her bottom lip trembles as she sets her gaze on his crestfallen green gaze. The green gaze that they share. The green gaze that is so entirely Mary it almost hurts Dean to even look at his sister and see someone so broken down they're hardly even recognizable. Mary would hate what theyâve become. Hate what John simultaneously made of them and unmade of them. Sometimes, he doesnât even feel like a person. Heâs got such a misconstrued sense of his own autonomy that life or death doesnât feel like such a weighted gamble of cards. What Dean Winchester hates the most is that the two kids he gave his own childhood up for â to raise and nurture when nobody else was around to do it â, have the same troubles embedded deeply in their instincts. âYou donât have to say anything, Dean.â Grace deflated sadly, wanting to just move on, to focus on the hunt and maintaining pleasantries with their father who is undoubtedly stewing in his wild anger only a car ahead of them.
âNo, I do. I do, Gracie. I shouldâve said something to both of you a long time ago.â Dean shakes his head, so often forgetting that he hadnât willfully been a silent observer of the abuse. Grace hates that he blames so much of her suffering on himself, but sheâs guilty of the same fate when thereâs nothing else to keep her mind busy. âIâm not going to let him lay another finger on you, and if does, if Iâm not there to stop it and shit happens, you come and find me, and Iâll deal with it. You hear me, sweetheart? He so much as grabs you too tight and Iâll handle it. Iâll finish him.âÂ
âYou know I donât blame you right? Either of you.â She asked softly, her voice wavering as she breathed through her mouth, her nose still throbbing at the center of her face. Sheâd need ice and Advil whenever they had a chance to dig through their duffles, but for now, she could live with the reminder that sheâd finally stood her ground in some capacity. âThe only one I blame is Dad, and it looks like weâre stuck with him for the foreseeable future, so can you stop trying to dig your own grave? And can you please stop looking like youâre going to tear his head off? This is what you wanted, and maybe it didnât turn out the way you hoped, but we still have a job to do and I cannot be the only one thinking straight. I mean, weâre up against fucking vampires, you should be bouncing off the walls and you should be stressed beyond belief because halloween came early.âÂ
âHalloween did not come early.â Sam huffs, a small smile cracking his stoic expression as he threw a glare at Grace over his shoulder, his grip on the wheel loosening just slightly as he let her words wash over him. He couldnât promise his best behavior, but he could certainly try if it meant keeping her happy.Â
âWeâre literally up against Dracula and his evil family, Sammy. Halloween basically came early.â Grace rolled her eyes, feeling more like herself as she taunted her brother and his eternal hatred for anything related to the tail-end of October.Â
âFreaking vampires, dude!â Dean bellowed, and that was all that it took for peace to be restored amongst the siblings, Johnâs presence no longer so daunting now that Grace knew they had each other's back in any circumstance.Â
-
Grace stood between her brothers in broad daylight, concealed by only a couple of overgrown and intertwined branches as they scooped out the vampire nest from a distance. John stood only a few inches away, his eyes memorizing the terrain that theyâd stumbled across intently. Dean grumbled at her side, shaking his head as he watched two vampires engage in a rushed conversation before slipping into the abandoned barn. One lingered by the doors, sweeping his gaze across the expanse of trees and shrubbery before he disappeared too.Â
âSon of a bitch.â He muttered beneath his breath, âSo theyâre really not afraid of the sun?â
âNo, direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill them is by beheading them.â Graceâs nose scrunched at the violent nature of their only true weakness, and subtly she was reminded of her reset nose when an ache ran deep through her bones. She stepped just slightly to the left, her forearm brushing against Deanâs as she created distance between her fathers body and her own. She could talk a big game about carrying on with the hunt and letting the past take up residence on a back burner, but instinct was something harder to control. Dean nudged her with his elbow, nodding just slightly to convey his watchful eye. He meant what heâd said. John Winchester would never lay another hand on her if he had any say in the matter; and heâd make sure he got a say this time around. âAnd, yeah, they sleep during the day. It doesnât mean they wonât wake up.âÂ
âSo I guess walking right inâs not our best option.â Dean assumed, and Grace was inclined to agree that walking right into a vampire's nest was a dumb play, but Johnâs reaction insinuated the very opposite.Â
âActually, thatâs the plan.â He mused, nodding toward their cars parked a few feet away in a clearing not visible to the barn doors. They followed him cautiously, stepping over twigs and branches that would give away their position if even one of the creatures heard something suspicious.Â
She pulled the trunk of the Impala open, her eyes training over the stuffed bear sheâd taken possession of all of those weeks ago in Kansas. A saddened warmth spread through her chest at the memory of Mary burning before her own two eyes, but she pushed it aside. Now was not the time nor place to unpack her boatload of parental traumas.Â
âDad, Iâve got an extra machete if you need one.â Dean called over his shoulder as he looked to John who had his own trunk open and was scrounging through his collection of weapons for something specific.Â
âThink Iâm okay. Thanks.â He replied drying, unsheathing a machete that glimmered beneath the overcast sky. Its blade was impressive, not something that Grace had seen before, and the irony that he suddenly had a weapon of that nature in a hunt like this didnât leave her entirely. For someone who said heâd never hunted a vampire and thought all they were all extinct, he certainly had the weapons and knowledge to disprove that.Â
âWow.â Dean hummed, turning back to the trunk. Graceâs fingers were curled together in a pattern that Dean hadnât seen since his teenage years, but a broad smile broke across his lips as he shook his head. Years ago, theyâd created a silent code for the times when their father was being nothing short of an arrogant dick. It was one of the only ways that they could get anything beneath his nose, and still Dean found humor in it, even if this time his smile was drawn from the stirrings of nostalgia that blossomed in his chest.Â
âSo⌠you boys really want to know about this colt?â Grace could only roll her eyes at the fact that her father refused to acknowledge her, but she didnât say anything. Truth was, they did want to know, and she was willing to sacrifice her pride if it meant gaining precious insight.Â
âYes sir.â Sam replied, his attention snapping to John instantaneously.Â
John sighed, and for a second his eyes lingered on Grace angled between his boys so perfectly that it looked like something natural. John couldnât remember a time when his kids had been so at ease around him, and even if their shoulders were still rigid with tension, there was something about their closeness that struck him deeply. âItâs just a story⌠A legend, really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Danielâs letter. Back in 1835, when Halleyâs comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun⌠a special gun. He made it for a hunter â a man like us, only on horseback. The story goes he made thirteen bullets. This hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. âTil somehow, Daniel got his hands on it. They sayâ they say this gun can kill anything.â
âKill anything like supernatural anything?â Dean questioned, astonishment laced within his tone. Grace stood straighter at the realization, her gaze falling upon that hidden corner of the trunk where sheâd tucked her precious bear in between a pocket knife and the first aid kit Dean kept.Â
âLike the thing that killed Mom.â Grace whispered as she trailed her gaze back to John, looking at him with so much confidence he almost didnât have a clapback for her direct mentioning of Mary. Almost. He opened his mouth, probably to threaten her into silence, but she stepped up closer, her voice even and calm as she raised her chin. âYou do not have the right to take her away from me. Maybe I donât remember her, but she is still my Mom. The only one Iâll ever have. So why donât you just get on with it instead of wasting any more time that we donât have.âÂ
John, for once in his life, listened. âYeah, the demon.â He licked at his lips, shifting his gaze to Sam who stood in the same state of shock as Dean. âEver since I picked up its trail, Iâve been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun⌠we may have it.âÂ
Grace nodded, looking directly at her father, no longer afraid to so much as meet his eye without explicit permission. âWell letâs go then. Iâd say it's about twenty years overdue.âÂ
-
Grace climbed through a window after Sam, standing on piles of hay that sank beneath her weight. Dean was right behind her, and softly he closed the boards up after heâd climbed through, drowning them in near complete darkness before their eyes adjusted to the change in light. John was ahead of them, but what else lay ahead of them was incredibly daunting. At least four vampires laid asleep in makeshift hammocks, their arms folded over their stomachs as they assumed the same near identical positions.Â
She kept close to Sam, and Dean kept close to her. They had each other's backs, and that was as much comfort as Grace was going to get before they managed to secure the gun. As they stalked through the barn, it became evident that it wasnât just four vampires that surrounded them, but over a dozen, and chills crawled up her spine as she grimaced internally. She snapped ehr gaze to Dean when teh toe of his shoe clashed against an abandoned bottle of beer, his shoulder jostling the hammock that a vampire rested in soundly. Their eyes widened, and both siblings froze to gauge the reaction that was to come, but when nothing happened and the vampire settled back into sleep, Grace breathed a silent sigh of relief.Â
âDean, Gracie.â Sam whispered for their attention, crouched beside a woman that Grace could only see half off. She crept closer, blood stains coming into view. Sam was already busy trying to untie the ropes that bound the woman, but Grace and Dean snapped their gaze to the far corner of the room when they heard a muffled sound.Â
âThereâs more.â Dean whispered, and Grace nodded, already back on her feet and heading in the direction that theyâd heard the slightest commotion from. Dean grabbed onto a metal lever, putting both of his hands around the cold material to dampen the noise, but a clanking squeak still echoed around the barn and Grace kept careful watch of the vampires surrounding them. One of the guys shifted in his sleep, but thankfully he remained that way.Â
The quiet didnât last long, and Grace flinched into Dean when a near demonic sounding scream came from the woman bound to the pole in the center of the barn. All at once the other vampires woke, bouncing to their feet as they took in the sight of intruders around them.Â
John smashed a window in the corner of the barn, his eyes wild as he looked over his shoulders to locate his children; all three of them. âKids, run!â He threw out the order, and they listened, but Grace faltered when her eyes caught something silver in the distance. She stumbled on her feet, but didnât go back for the gun that caught her attention. There would be another opportunity, their had to be.
When sunlight broke across her face, she squinted at the intrusion of bright light, running through the wooded area where the calls of her brother's voices created an audible path. âGracie! Dad!âÂ
âIâm right here. God, Iâm right here, stop fucking yelling you idiot!â She groaned, batting her hand against Deanâs shoulder when she got close enough to reach them. Dean rolled his eyes at her attitude, but stopped calling for John, realizing that he was essentially giving their covered position away. âThey have the colt.â She told her brothers, confirming that they were chasing the right lead for more than just a police scanner call.Â
âThey wonât follow. Theyâll wait till tonight. Once a vampire gets your scent, itâs for life.â John panted as he came running up to them, and Grace could only roll her eyes at the fact that he was only thinking to tell them that small detail now.Â
âWhat the hell do we do now?â Dean threw back at their father, evidently less than impressed with that simple answer.Â
âYou got to find the nearest funeral home, thatâs what.â Dean reared back at the cheap solution, his eyes widening for a brief moment before he schooled his features.Â
-
Grace stood beneath the cover of nightfall only a few feet away from where Dean had parked the Impala. Thereâs a crossbow at her side, arrows from John already loaded into the weapon. She doesnât know what they are, but she doesnât really care. All she knows is that heâd sent her and Dean out as bait, but not without shoving the weapons into her empty hands, demanding that she prove she hasnât lost her worth in the years that it had been since theyâd seen each other. She doesnât want to think about how his eyes had flashed with something genuine as she nodded to the instruction, but she can't help but consider that maybe she doesnât know him as well as sheâd thought. Regardless, his sudden care for her wellbeing doesnât change her opinion of him. If anything, it only pisses her off more. She doesnât need him anymore; doesnât want him. Sheâs long since abandoned the desire to win his affection and praise. All that she cares about is doing her part in keeping her brothers alive.Â
She waits for the perfect moment before she reaches for the weapon, letting the arrows cut through the darkness of night only when sheâs certain that she has the perfect shot. Both arrows pierce through the hearts of the vampires, and they crane their necks to face the expanse of trees behind them. Her heart is hammering, unable to recall the last time sheâd even held a crossbow, but the knowledge that after all the time that had elapsed and she was still a perfect shot had her jogging toward her brother without concern. Sam and John were right behind her, and Grace couldnât pinpoint when theyâd arrived, but she smiled cheekily at Sam over her shoulder, wiggling her eyebrows tauntingly. For a second, she was just the girl heâd started to know at Stanford, and Sam had never been so glad to see that stupid smile in his life.Â
âBarely even stings.â The woman calls over her shoulder, looking straight at Grace who still holds onto the weapon of choice for the night. She can only shrug, but John has more to say.
âGive it time, sweetheart. That arrows soaked in dead man's blood. Itâs like poison to you, isnât it?â Graceâs gaze trailed down to her fingers, suddenly aware of the fact that sheâd touched both arrows to lace them into the weapon. She could roll her eyes at Johnâs inability to ever be truly transparent, but she pockets the complaint for a later date. The womanâs eyes began to grow heavy, and in second both vampires dropped to the ground. âLoad her up. Iâll take care of this one.âÂ
The last thing Grace saw before she turned to help her brothers was John slicing the head of the vampire off with one clean blow.Â
-
âToss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk, cabbage, and trillium â itâll block our scent and hers until weâre ready.â John hummed, a fire burning bright beside Grace as she stood in the middle of the woods beside her brothers.Â
Dean coughed, pacing the rough terrain with understandable restlessness. âStuff stinks.â He commented, and Grace could only shake her head at his reflection.Â
âWell, thatâs the idea. Dust your clothes with the ashes and youâll stand a chance of not being detected.â Grace didnât have to be told twice, mostly because it wasnât her jacket she was ruining by spreading ash across her chest and sleeves. She shot Dean a cheeky smile, flaunting his ash covered jacket in a silly spin that had him chuckling and shaking his head. Sheâd never been so light in the presence of John, had never been so light in the presence of Dean, but new leaves had been turned since heâd punched her, and fear was something she muddled through so intensely. She could only hope it lasted, but if this was all that she ever got of âpeaceâ, sheâd take it as a win.Â
âYou sure theyâll come after her?â Sam questioned, looking back at John.Â
âYeah. Vampires mate for life. She means more to the leader than the gun. But the blood sickness is gonna wear off soon, so you donât have a lot of time.âÂ
âHalf-hour outta do it.â Dean hummed, stepping up to the conversation with Grace on his heels.Â
âAnd then I want you out of the area as fast as you can.â Grace frowned at the ultimatum, or, direct order. Sheâd been thrown enough orders in her life to know when something was optional, and Johnâs direction to leave town was definitely not that.Â
âWoah, Dad. You canât take care of them all yourself.â Dean fought back, but John shook his head.Â
âIâll have her and the colt.â He tried to reason, but all Grace heard was bullshit masculinity and its inability to let anyone else help. She hadnât thought for a second that things with him would be any different, but somehow she didnât expect this.Â
âBut after, weâre gonna meet up, right? Use the gun together, right?â Sam questioned, his voice laced with something that Grace couldnât determine. His words were pointed, level and directed, but there was still something else lingering in his civil tone. âYouâre leaving again, arenât you? You still want to go after the demon alone? You know, I donât get you. You canât treat us like this.âÂ
John looked toward the fire before his gaze swept back to Sam, whoâd thrown his promise to the wind, but for once, Grace was right behind him, not bristling at the conflict that was beginning to rise between them. âLike what?âÂ
âLike children.â Sam snaps, the same argument eating away at him each time it slips away from focus unsolved and unaddressed.
âYou are my children. Iâm trying to keep you safe. All of you.â John looked right at Grace, and there was that genuinity again. She stepped back instinctively, her body partially concealed by Dean as she tried to make sense of his sudden care. She hated this. Hated that sheâd finally been ready to cut her ties with him and this is how he acts; like the father sheâd wanted when she was seven.
âDad, all due respect, but thatâs a bunch of crap.â Dean sighed, not willing to stand out in the cold and let their father lie to their faces to save his own ass another time. Heâd endured this treatment for years, but heâd finally reached his limit. Â
âExcuse me?â John recoiled, and both Grace and Sam turned their gaze to him, jaws hanging slack as they watched Dean make good on his promise that wasnât solely aimed at the youngest Winchester. Heâd meant what he said about sticking his neck out; not letting history repeat itself. But, he hadnât meant it only for Grace. Heâd meant it for Sam too, but more importantly, he meant it for himself. He didnât want to be a soldier anymore; he couldnât be. Not when heâd finally seen what could become of him if he just acted on his own impulses every once in a while.Â
âYou know what Gracie and Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You canât be that worried about keeping us safe. I mean, fuck Dad, youâve never been worried about keeping Gracie safe at all. That was my job. My responsibility. So why donât you let it stay that way.â He prattled on, and Grace could only dip her head down at the mention of her name. She knows what he gave up for her, but she desperately wished he hadnât had to. Itâs not her fault that it happened, but that doesnât lessen the guilt she carries.Â
âItâs not the same thing, Dean.â John shook his head, but that only further frustrated his children who were damn near fed up with being kept in what seemed like eternal darkness.Â
âThen what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?âÂ
âThis demon⌠It's a bad son of a bitch. I canât make the same moves if Iâm worried about keeping you alive.â He relented, but even with his spoken word, little was actually revealed to the siblings. John Winchester just had a way of being elusive without even batting an eye.Â
âYou mean you canât be as reckless.â Dean snapped back, going toe-to-toe with their father, tired of just being the little boy that listened and obeyed blindly. Heâd played that role for twenty-six years, he couldnât stand to fill the shoes for another second.Â
âLook, I donât expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mothers death⌠it almost killed me.â Dean looked away at the mention of Mary, and John shook his head, growing teary. âI canât watch my children die, too. I wonât.âÂ
âWhat happens if you die?â Deanâs voice wavered with the slightest indication of vulnerability before it grew cold and detached, his jaw clenching as he spoke. âDad, what happens if you die and we could have done something about it? You know, Iâve been thinking. I think maybe Sammyâs right about this one. I think we should do this together.â He was pleading at this point, begging with John to let them see this through with him. Grace couldnât admit it, but a piece of her yearned for the same thing as her brothers. She may hate the man, may despise his presence next to her, but she couldnât be an orphan. She still canât even begin to handle the fact that sheâs already down one parent. âWeâre stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it.â
âWeâre running out of time.â John nodded, entirely bypassing the point that Dean had been trying to drive home. Grace deflated behind her brother, taking a step away in wild defeat and discouragement. She hates the thought of being around John, but she wants to have a hand in righting her mothers death. Itâs not fair that even after all of this, John still dangles any kind of closure over her head. Every part of her knows that heâs incapable of change, but a piece of her heart breaks as she realizes that nothing about them will ever be enough to get him to stay. âYou do your time, and you get out of the area. Thatâs an order.âÂ
She scoffs as she shakes her head, turning her back to her brothers and her father as she made her way back to the Impala wordlessly. Sheâd fought for John to love her for years, she wouldnât let herself waste anymore time on someone that had never been what he shouldâve been for her.Â
The door slams behind her, and she sinks into the leather seats wearing a pout of frustration. When Sam and Dean sink into the seats up front, a beat of silence passes before the engine roars to life and Dean pulls out onto the road like a bat out of hell, the timer already running out of time.Â
-
Grace crawls through the window after her brothers, silently landing on the bails of hay that are stacked up against the boarded wall. She brushes her blood stained clothes off, grimacing at the hay that still sticks to her and sends prickly sensations down her spine whenever she moves. She creeps through the hallways wordlessly, grinning beside Dean as they sweep a coin off of the desk and listen to it clank as it hits the floor. She slips into the hallway, gripping tightly to a machete that conveniently is perched against the wall of the barn. She doesnât let herself think about the irony of this nest of vampires housing the very weapons that can kill them, focusing instead on the plan at hand.Â
She holds her breath as a vampire stalks through the barn searching for the cause of the sound, and when heâs just a few steps ahead of her, Dean pops out from the sideroom, a grin on his lips as he whispers, âBoo!â The vampire didnât even have a chance to spin on his heels and search for Grace before she was wielding the machete with practiced ease, slicing his head clean off in a second.Â
âThat is either the coolest thing Iâve ever done on a hunt or the most disgusting.â She grimaces as blood drips down her face and further stains her clothing. She canât tell whatâs her blood or his anymore, but the satisfaction in knowing sheâd killed the evil they stumbled across eased the disgust pooling in her belly as warm blood began to cool on her skin.Â
She wiped a palm down her face, wiping the blood into the fabric of her pants as she followed Dean. When he had what he was searching for, he nodded toward the window where Sam was waiting with a machete from the trunk, having taken the role of lookout reluctantly.Â
âWeâre going back for him, arenât we?â Grace questions as she lands on the ground, brushing off her clothes again as dirt and hay stick to her.Â
âObviously.â Dean retorted and Grace nodded promptly, not having it in her to argue about what their next move should be. Their father couldnât handle what was coming his way, even if he didnât know that, Grace did, and despite herself and every self-preservation tactic sheâd learned since childhood, she couldnât get herself to be the kind of person to walk away when showing up mattered most.Â
-
The headlights from Johnâs truck shone brightly in the expanse of darkness as Grace and her brothers rushed through the wooded area toward the gravel road. Grace wielded a crossbow with elegance, hardly bristling as she aimed for the chest of a woman and shot blankly, the poison coated arrow piercing directly through the vampire's sternum. Sam was only steps ahead of her, but before Grace could make a move to shoot the approaching vampire, heâd gained the upper hand and wrangled Sam into his grip.Â
âDonât! Iâll break his neck.â He warned dangerously, hooking his arm around Samâs neck with a threatening tightness that had Grace lowering the crossbow just slightly. Graceâs gaze trailed to Dean as leaves rustled beside her, and she found her brother gripping at the handle of a blood soaked machete with genuine fear shining brightly behind his green eyes. âPut the blade down.â He only tightened his grip when Dean looked to contemplate the ultimatum, and Sam began to gasp for air as his windpipe was crushed ruthlessly and slowly.Â
âDean!â Grace called, shaking her head as she dropped the crossbow fully, allowing it to dangle at her side as she looked back at Sam whose cheeks were beginning to redden with the lack of oxygen.Â
The vampire, a man that Grace had no interest learning the name of, stared straight at Dean as the machete clanked at the impact of thin metal meeting the rough ground. âYou people. Why canât you just leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do.âÂ
âI donât think so.â Grace hadnât even noticed her father pick himself up from the ground, but her gaze snapped to him at the sound of a gunshot firing. The colt glistened beneath the moonlight, one of its carefully crafted bullets slicing through the air before it embedded itself in the creature's head right between his deep eyes. Grace didnât take another moment to take in the sight of blood slowly slipping from the wound, instead, she rushed to Sam, the crossbow forgotten in the clearing of brittle grass as her sneakers padded against the ground bringing her closer to where Dean held Sam upright by his shoulders.Â
Sam shrugged Graceâs concerned hands off of him as he turned to fully watch the vampire succumb to his injury. Light flickered from the hole in his head before he dropped to his knees on the gravel, groaning in pain before everything became still.
âKate, donât!â Another vampire called when a girl cried out in distress, attempting to rush toward her fallen leader before she was held back protectively. It was only a handful of seconds later that car doors were slamming shut and the vampires that remained sped away, their headlights shining bright in the darkness before they ebbed away.Â
Grace Winchester took one look at her father before she shook her head, abandoning the fight and turning toward the direction of where the Impala was parked in the near distance but out of earshot. The leaves crunched beneath her feet, but she said nothing as she sought out escape.Â
-
Graceâs hair was damp as she sifted through clothing that her brothers had somehow strewn across the room in the few hours that theyâd actually occupied the motel room. Sheâd finally washed the blood off of her body and traded in her soiled clothes for new ones, but even with the seven minute shower she still felt heavy and out of sorts. She sighed as she threw a flannel at Dean, deciding against stealing it for herself when she noticed the grease stain smeared along the left side of the thin article. She stood in only pink pajama pants and a Stanford t-shirt when the motel door creaked open again, her father finally making his presence known.Â
âSo, boysâŚâ Grace could only shake her head in exasperation when her father entirely bypassed her existence, but she couldnât find it in herself to care that much as she continued to sift through the random garments within reach. She threw a t-shirt on top of Samâs duffle bag, wondering how theyâd created such a mess in the first place when all theyâd done was steal a handful of hours of rest.Â
âYes, sir.â Dean cleared his throat, turning around to face John fully. Sam stepped up beside him, unintentionally shielding Grace from Johnâs sight. The youngest Winchester didnât notice, but the eldest did, and John squared his shoulders at the realisation that he was being barred from looking at his own daughter.Â
âYou ignored a direct order back there.â John continued, deciding that now wasnât the time to breach any kind of conversation pertaining to Grace.Â
âYes, sir. But we saved your ass.â Dean made sure to highlight what mattered, and Grace could only manage a smirk as she settled into the realization that it wasnât just a one time promise. Even if it would take time to truly separate himself from everything that heâd been blindly following for years, Dean was putting the effort in where it mattered.Â
âYouâre right.â John relented, and Grace frowned at the simple resolution, turning around to witness the conversation as she pulled an old hoodie over her head. She canât even remember the last time sheâd seen Dean wear a hoodie, but now wasnât the time to question why he was still holding on to the tattered thing.Â
âI am?â Dean questioned skeptically, taking a step closer to Sam when he caught the slightest glimpse of Grace moving in his peripheral. All three Winchesters were on edge, knowing exactly what kind of treatment Grace would be subjected to taking had this occurred only two years ago. Dean wasnât going to let it happen now, but still he worried about not being able to prevent it.Â
âIt scares the hell out of me. YouâŚyou three are all Iâve got. But I guess we are stronger as a family.â Grace bristled at the words rolling off of Johnâs tongue, unable to picture a reality where her father ever admitted that she was worth bringing along. She hates that this is what sheâs wanted for her entire life, and now that it's falling at her feet laced with sincerity, it feels wrong and misplaced. She hates that John is willing to step up, be the man he shouldâve been albeit still with faults and ridged edges, but sheâs already moved on. Itâs too little too late. âSo⌠we go after this damn thingâŚtogether.âÂ
âYes, sir.â Dean and Sam nodded but Grace couldnât just let that be all that was said after years of torment and abuse; after heâd just broken her nose and backhanded her like she was just an insignificant child. Heâd burned the bridge to her heart a long time ago, and there was no way to restore scattered ashes.Â
âIâll help you, because she is my mom, and this is my fight as much as it is yours, but you are not my family. You will never be my family.â She spat uncaringly, slinging her dufflebag over her shoulder and heading for the door, stepping around her father and her brothers. The light from the lamps fell upon her face, catching on the swelling around her eyes and the bruising to her cheek bone.Â
John Winchester might be ready to finally accept his only daughter, but Grace Winchester has no obligation to forgive the years of anguish heâd inflicted on her.
#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x sister!reader#dean winchester x ofc#sam winchester#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x sister!reader#sam winchester x ofc#john winchester#john winchester x daughter#john winchester x ofc#supernatural#supernatural x reader#supernatural x sister!reader#supernatural x ofc#series: love was the law
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I loved the opportunity to narrate some of PrincessMiseryâs awesome story. A true labor of love and I enjoyed the entire read. A romance mystery with all the thrills and feels!
Samnesia - Master List
Summary: Brooke is a calming distraction from the chaotic mess of Sam's life. When a hunt keeps them separated for over a month, Sam returns to find she no longer remembers him. The need to find out what happened while he was gone sends Sam on a case that will change the course of his life. What he discovers along the way will change the way he looks at love.
Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, slow burn, language, stalking, mentions of cheating, kidnapping, shitty friend, canon level violence mentioned.Â
W/C: 54k (11 Chapters)
Rating: E (explicit - 18+)
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Rowena McLeod, brief - Mary Winchester, OFC, OCâs.Â
Pairing: Sam Winchester x OFC (Brooke)
Notes: set around season 14. Chapters 1-8 flick between âthenâ and ânowâ but all in timeline order and labelled.
A/N:Â This has been a labor of love since 2019. I wanted it to be perfect and finished before I started posting. Thanks to @slytherkins it's perfect to me and finally finished.
Betas: @slytherkins // @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own.
Special shoutout to: @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba // @manawhaat - who took a look, offered encouragement and helped at some point during the creation.
Graphics:Â all made by the wonderful and talented @talesmaniac89
Series Complete
Listen to the Prologue + Chapter 1 narrated by the wonderful @talltalesandbedtimestories for the @idlingintheimpalapodcast here.
Prologue - Questionable Decisions
Now: Sam has to explain to Brooke and Dean why he kidnapped her.
W/C:Â 1.9k Warnings: angst, language, kidnapping.
Chapter 1 - Photographs
Now: Sam has to convince Brooke that he kidnapped her for her safety.
Then: Sam wants a quiet night but ends up rescuing Brooke.
W/C: 4.2k Warnings: angst, fluff, kidnapping, shitty friend.
Chapter 2 - The Cheek
Now: Brooke decides to trust Sam.
Then: Brooke gets stood up, but Sam is there to save her night.
W/C: 5k Warnings: angst, fluff, slow burn, language, stood up.Â
Chapter 3 - Girls' Night
Now: Sam and Dean try to narrow down the cause of Brookeâs memory loss.
Then: Sam and Brooke share their first kiss and get to know each other a little better.
W/C: 5.4k Warnings: slow burn, fluff, angst.
Chapter 4 - Expectations
Then: Sam makes Brooke dinner, and they discuss what they want from their relationship. Dean invites himself to meet Brooke.
W/C: 7k Warnings: fluff, angst, slow burn, very mild smut.
Chapter 5 - Confessions
Now: Brooke hints at knowing thereâs something Sam isnât telling her but she doesnât want to deal with it right now, instead wanting to hear more about her and Sam. Sam tells Brooke the truth about the Supernatural, how will she take it?
Then: Free of all interruptions Sam and Brooke finally get to be intimate.
W/C: 7.6k Warnings: smut, slow burn, fluff, angst.
Chapter 6 - Calm The Chaos
Then: Settled into a sporadic routine Sam and Brooke spend as much time together as they can. Until Brooke realizes her stalker isnât who she suspected, and it all becomes too much.
W/C: 4.4k Warnings: angst, stalking, fluff.
Chapter 7 - Cold Shoulder
Now: The timing is off and Sam doesnât want to tell Brooke how he feels but actions speak louder than words.
Then: Drunk phone calls lead to a confession, but Brooke unexpectedly gives Sam the cold shoulder.
W/C: 4.8k Warnings: angst, fluff, argument, love confessions.
Chapter 8 - Poker Face
Now: Samâs frustrated that heâs no closer to figuring out the cause of Brookeâs amnesia. Could a friendly game of poker with Dean reveal the answer?
Then: Sam tracks down Brooke to find out why sheâs giving him the cold shoulder, and he doesnât like what he finds.
W/C: 4.6k Warnings: angst, confrontation, kidnapping.
Chapter 9 - Misplaced Intentions
Now: Brooke loses more than her memory, but finally, they have answers. How is Rowena connected? And more importantly, can she restore Brookeâs memory?
W/C: 5.5k Warnings: house fire, shitty friend, angst, fluff, Rowena being the badass she is, canon-type violence.
Chapter 10 - Magical
Now: Sam has to make the decision of how much he wants Brooke to remember. Is it too much of a risk to have her remember everything?Â
W/C: 4.3k Warnings: mostly fluff, bit of angst, happy ending.Â
Master Lists: Sam Winchester // All The Fandoms
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Shameless promotion of my new fic âDivergence from Fateâ on AO3
This is a Dean X OC fic. I know X reader fics are more popular, but I grew up on OC fics. I will forever champion them.
I am not abandoning my Devils in the Windy City story. I will post new chapter soon. I got many pages written.
If you readâthank you! â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸
#fanfiction#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural#dean winchester#dean winchester x ofc#dean winchester x original character#sam winchester#sam winchester x ofc#archive of our own#ao3 writer#ao3 author#ao3fic#ao3feed#ao3 link#supernatural gifs#spnfandom#spn fanfic#spn
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An angry love confession under rain with Dean Winchester!



tw: nothing idk but pure fluff, two idiots in love, sfw, she/her usage in text, reader is younger (he calls her little girl.)
"Stop following me! Stop doing this!" She glared at Dean in fury as he ran a hand through his wet, brown hair. "I'm not following you." He retorted, getting closer to her shaking body. His large build slowly blocked the way. "Get in. It's cold." He said through the rain, hoping to be heard. She shrugged in an attempt to stop him from coming closer. "I don't care! Stop telling me what to do!" She shouted, searching his dark green, captivating eyes. He got only closer, as if it was even possible, ignoring her tries to make some space between them. "Or what?" He asked cockily leaning his head aside. "What are you gonna do, little girl?"
He knew, she hated this nickname he gave and wanted to test the waters. "Don't -" she gritted through her teeth. " - call me that!" Dean's smirk only widened, seeing her furious state. "Stop treating me like a damn teenager!" It was so cute to see her get mad, and she didn't even know how she looked when she was mad. Her eyes would get bigger, her pupils blown wide. Her mouth would be slightly agape, showing her front two teeth. Wet lips would tremble vividly. There would be a pink little cast over her cheeks, and her breathing would get deeper, chest raising and falling wildly.
She swallowed deeply, feeling his intense gaze on her face. She muttered a quick "Whatever." and rolled her beautiful eyes at him. He was, however, quick to hold onto her arm, his grip unwavering yet not painful. Just possessive and borderline obsessed. "Are you afraid?" He whispered, quietly challenging her. She pulled her arm harshly, making him stumble, and their bodies hit each other softly. They were just so close, so close, yet none of them was brave enough to initiate something.
"I'm not afraid of you, Dean!" She murmured. His closeness, his warmth, his tall body, and his wet lashes were making her feel almost dizzy. "Get in the motel." He spoke, his dark greens not leaving her face, desperately trying to convince her. "I won't. " she breathed. They were so close, almost sharing the same air.
"Oh yeah?" He abruptly moved back, getting his jacket off his body. She furrowed her brows, looking at him in confusion. "What are you doing?" Dean was fast to take off his jacket and put over on her head, in an attempt to protect her from the pouring rain. This time, she didn't protest and let him do as he wished.
He held the jacket over her head. She watched his blown pupils, deep breaths, tiny freckles barely visible in the dark, short stubble of a beard and his tan skin. "Why are you doing this?" she asked. Dean's mouth was open, almost struggling to keep his words to himself. "Because -" he began, yet couldn't continue. She waited and waited, but he didn't continue. "I knew it." she said confidently. "You're a coward, Dean." She shouted and turned away from the jacket he was holding over her head, eventually leaving him behind.
As she was stomping hard on the ground and heading back to the motel, she was absolutely getting drenched from the rain. She heard Dean saying something behind her back and his heavy footsteps, yet she was determined not to look back. It was only then, that she got pulled back and felt a soft pair of lips on hers with a gentle whisper. "Because I love you." She found the peace she was looking for. Two stubborn hearts started beating in harmony, under the heavy rain one night.
#dean winchester#poetry#writing prompt#writeblr#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#supernatural fandom#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural#love#spn fandom#spn fanfic#fanfic#jensen x reader#jensen fucking ackles#dean winchester x female!reader#dean winchester x ofc#sam and dean#soldier boy x reader#writing
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POV: late night swim at the motel pool with the Winchesters













today's moodboard inspired by @southernimpala's fic midnight swim!!!
#supernatural#spn moodboard#fic moodboard#moodboard#spn x reader#spn fanfic#spn ocs#spnfandom#spn oc#supernatural oc#dean winchester#spn#sam winchester#x reader#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester fluff#sam winchester imagine#sam winchester one shot#sam winchester fanfiction#sam winchester x fem!reader#sam winchester x you#fluff#sam x reader#sam x you#dean x reader#dean winchester x female!reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x ofc#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester one shot
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