#Zoë Sullivan | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katehuntington · 3 years ago

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Title: Black Dog - part nine Word count: 6275± words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part nine summary: Zoë owes Dean an explanation, but will she be able to keep it together when she opens up about the reason she is being hunted by hellhounds? Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Welcome back, everyone! Beta’d by @winchest09 & @deanwanddamons. Also, @teresa-67, thank you for your imput on this chapter!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

Darrington, Washington December 3rd, 2005 - Present Day

Floor - wall - repeat. Floor - wall - repeat. It’s the way a baseball bounces through the small hunter’s cabin, the repetitive thuds the only soundtrack to the bleak scene. The sun refuses to shine through the square windows, hiding behind the dark clouds above. Evergreens that surround the little house whisper nervously in the stern Northern wind. The mountain seems anxious for what’s coming.

Inside, the flames in the fireplace rustle, trying to distract the two troubled souls. Dean - who has taken a seat on the hard-wooden floor next to their heat source - throws the ball again. It jumps up from the ground and hits the wall, before it comes back to the guy who found the old thing in a drawer. With excellent reflexes, he catches it, without drawing his eyes away from Zoë. The huntress hasn’t moved from her position opposite of him, still leaning against the turned-over table in the middle of the room while absently watching ambers twirl up into the chimney. Not a word has passed her lips since the conversation with Sam, which was well over eight hours ago. Dean shot a few questions at her, but the stubborn woman apparently decided to pretend he’s nothing but air, because she refused to answer any of them.

Several thoughts cross Dean’s mind as he observes the mysterious woman, all of them orbiting around the reason why they are stuck here in the first place. So Zoë Sullivan made a deal. A silent scoff escapes his chest, shaking his head slightly as he throws the baseball again, the sound of the round object colliding with the timber a little louder when he uses more force. What the fuck was she thinking? What the hell would have driven her to make a pact with the Devil? And what did she get in return?

Then there’s her powers. Finding out that his little brother has visions still keeps him up at night, but after this new revelation, the plot thickens. Apparently Sam is not alone. The three of them meeting seems too much of a coincidence all of a sudden. What could this all mean?

Contemplating, he catches the leather ball one-handedly and continues the motion over and over. Not just to keep busy; he also hopes to trigger a response from Zoë. It’s starting to work, because the huntress rests her head back against the wooden surface with an annoyed sigh as her eyes start to follow the ball. “Are you gonna stop doing that?” she more demands than asks, firmly requesting him to knock it off. “Are you gonna start talking?” Dean returns, clever.

Zoë narrows her eyes at him and sets her jaw before she redirects her gaze to the window; she clearly doesn’t plan on it. As the man who she’s stuck in this little hut with continues his therapeutic occupation, she tries to tune out the sounds inside. She knows the hellhounds are still on the threshold, determined to claim her. She can hear them sneaking around the cabin, sniffing the snow and testing their boundaries. They have been doing so since Dean snuck out on his mission to get the satellite phone. The smart creatures seem to be waiting for another slip up, ready to finish the job they are trained to do.

The pounding of the baseball against the timber drags her from her thoughts. Although having flesh-eating, demonic pitbulls right outside the door is enough to have her on edge, Dean is beginning to add to her exasperation. Brown eyes observe the fast moving object, tracing the motion. Right after the toy bounces off the opposite wall from where Dean is sitting, it makes a sharp turn. The hunter is ready for the catch, but his brows hit his hairline when he witnesses the change of course. Zoë snatches the ball out of the air and places it on the floorboards next to her, letting out a relieved sigh as she closes her eyes, enjoying the silence. She can’t see how her companion is doing a double-take with his jaw agape, wide eyes glancing from the huntress to his empty hand and back. The sheer thought of catching the cocky Winchester off guard has her fighting the smile that is tugging at the corners of her mouth, though. “Seriously, Zo, this is freaking me out!” he exclaims.

She giggles and opens her eyes again, taking in the baseball by her side. Strangely enough, she knows where he’s coming from. The first time she got angry and broke a mirror about six weeks ago, she thought it might have been a spirit or an almost insensible tremor of the earth, considering she was in San Francisco at the time. But when a full pint of beer broke in the hands of the guy who cheated during poker, she started to get suspicious. The third time another mirror fell victim. She remembers that moment precisely. Zoë rented a hotel room near Cherry Hill in New Jersey and stared at her reflection in the bathroom. If this were true, she figured that anger was the trigger, so she got angry. It didn’t take much, watching herself was quite enough to get disgusted and furious. Then, just like that, it shattered. For a good minute she kept staring at the broken being in the distorted image. Once, she considered herself normal, but the person looking back at her was so far from it, that the huntress would investigate a case like herself. The shards on the wall were the confirmation she was looking for and yet hoped not to be true. She couldn’t make up excuses anymore. There wasn’t an earthquake in San Francisco and the cheater didn’t squeeze his pint too tight. She had done it with her mind.

Panic hit soon after. She hid, curtains closed, door shut, crying under the covers like a child. After days of not looking at anything made out of glass, Zoë came to the conclusion that she should either deal with this or go live in a cave. So she embraced it and as it turns out, it’s actually quite a cool trait, especially when she figured out she could control it. With a lot of practice, she didn’t need anger anymore, just focus. Her experience with the Johnny Walker bottle in Beetle’s Bar down in Rochester, Minnesota was a new one, though. She wanted that whiskey so badly, that it actually shifted towards her, until it fell off the sill and broke into a million pieces. She didn’t blow it up, she moved it. There is a big difference between nudging a small object only a few inches, or slamming the door into the faces of a pack of hellhounds, but apparently she’s able to do much more than she thought she would be capable of.

Zoë picks up the baseball, holding it in the palm of her hand and concentrates on the white leather and red stitching, until it begins to float. Content, Zoë smiles; she’s getting better.

Dean watches the huntress work the small object in complete awe. If he wasn’t seeing this with his own two eyes, he wouldn’t believe it to be possible. For a moment her ability doesn’t intimidate him, on the contrary. The hunter is impressed with how she handles the toy, allowing it to levitate and slowly spin around its axle graciously. It’s amazing how she’s able to have complete control over the ball, making it do whatever she wants. It’s a supernatural phenomenon, yet beautiful at the same time.

With a gentle gesture, Zoë sends the baseball back to its previous owner. Slowly, it crosses the room and dances in the air before Dean’s face. Stunned, he observes, green eyes fixed on the object. Wanting to rule out that this isn’t indeed a smart magician’s magic trick, he moves his hand above the ball to test if there are any strings attached. When that theory is proven wrong, the hunter carefully takes the toy between his thumb and index finger, examining the little thing from every direction. With no other explanation left than that this is in fact real, he peers at the woman who possesses the power of telekinesis.

“How the fuck are you pulling this Yoda stunt?” he asks, fascinated. Zoë shrugs. “I just concentrate on it and tell it what to do.” “You ‘just’ concentrate? I can concentrate the hell I want, it ain’t movin’,” Dean brings to mind, nodding at the ball. “That’s because I am a Jedi and you’re not,” she nags. He chuckles. “Well, may the force be with you. I’d rather be Batman.”

Zoë grins, but she gets why he’s apprehensive. At first, so was she, but now that she has accepted this to be a part of her, she has grown accustomed to it, not fearing her abilities anymore. Where they might come from, now that’s a whole other story. Face it; these things she’s able to do, it’s not human. She’s too afraid to say it out loud, but these powers are edging towards the demonic. No wonder Dean thought she was possessed.

She glances at the hunter, but his thoughts seem to have wandered off. The baseball sits on the floor next to Dean’s outstretched right leg, his left pulled up and serving as an armrest. A frown is edging lines between his brows while he gazes through the window, the evergreens outside sharing the color of the man’s distinctive eyes.

Although she can think of more than a few reasons why the Winchester is pondering, she knows who is on his mind. “Worried about Sam?” Dean snaps out of it and looks at her, puzzled. Is it that obvious? The fact that she’s right doesn’t mean he’s going to admit to it, so he shrugs it off. “Why would I be?” “I just figured, with him having those visions and all,” Zoë replies. “Having weird dreams is something entirely different than moving things with your damn mind,” he states, judgemental.

But his female companion doesn’t agree. “I train my abilities. Sam pretends he doesn’t have any. That’s the only difference,” she responds rationally. “Besides, it started with me just like it did with him, and around the same time as well.” “Wait, what?” Dean stammers, not sure what question to ask first. “You had visions too? And this all kicked off like two months back?” Zoë nods confirmingly. “The first dream hit me about six weeks ago. I don’t have visions, though. More like flashbacks; I see the past,” she corrects. The hunter stares at her, staggered. He can’t tell what is more disturbing, that her abilities started out just like Sam’s or that she just used the present simple, meaning that she still has them. “You still do?” “Yep, together with migraines and the feeling like I’ve been run over by a train,” she scoffs.

Processing all this new information, Dean rubs his eyes. This all sounds way too familiar, yet there is a difference between Zoë and his younger sibling, and it’s not just the different levels of expertise.

“So you see what has happened? How is that helpful? How can you change something if it took place already?” he comments. “You don’t get it, do you?” she chuckles, amused by his narrow mindedness. “History is the key to the future.” “Alright, we’ve already established that you’re Yoda, but cut the fucking words of wisdom, okay?” Dean says, not impressed. “What’s done is done; the past doesn’t give you jack shit.”

“I see history unfolding and can prevent it from happening again, like Paragould,” the huntress elaborates. “I knew all about how the father abused that little girl, and my bet was on a revenge-seeking spirit from the jump. Usually, I can get to town in time before the first kill, but when Laura got to her daddy first, I wasn’t even shaken up about it.” Dean understands now. “That’s how you cracked that case so fast.” “Yeah, well…” she admits, after which her gaze drops to her hands. “I wish I could’ve saved the principal and the teacher, though.” “Hey, that damaged kid was on a rampage. A lot more people would’ve gotten killed if you hadn’t stepped in so fast,” the hunter offers, hoping it will give her some solace. Zoë half nods, pursing her lips. “I had a little help.” A small smirk pulls at the corner of Dean’s mouth, appreciating the hit of gratefulness in her words. “We make one hell of a dream team, the three of us,” he says.

For once, Zoë doesn’t reply with a snarky remark, the silence a symbol to her agreement. She dips her head and stays quiet, allowing her colleague’s conclusion to sink in. She cannot deny what he says is true. Yes, they butt heads. Yes, she would rather fly solo. Sometimes, though, accepting help is the only way out of a tough spot. It applied for the case in Arkansas, but will it also be the case here? She doubts it, but doesn’t voice her negative assumption.

Outside, the wind is picking up, cold air howling through the trees and breezing through the cracks of the cabin. The weather has steadily grown more restless, seemingly apprehensive of what’s to come. It’s as if the sun has never really risen at dawn, the skies remaining a dark tint of grey. The hellhounds are laying low, at least for now. The constant howling and barking earlier made their prey anxious. The silence between the hunters isn’t helping to put Zoë’s troubled mind to rest either.

“So…” she starts out of the blue. “Why did you come out here?” Wanting to prevent a rain of questions, she decides to turn tables. It works, although Dean doesn’t answer with words. He takes his phone out of his pocket and tosses it towards her. With one hand she catches the small Samsung and opens the lid to reveal the display. “Inbox. Latest text,” Dean says.

She does as told and opens the message which was sent to him by his father. It contains only the word ‘job’ and a bunch of numbers. “Coordinates,” she concludes. “No background info, no other leads, just coordinates.” “You’re starting to sound like Sam,” Dean scoffs. “But Dad has never been a man of many words.” She agrees with a nod, but then frowns as a subtle grin starts to show on her face. “You received a message from Erin. Who’s Erin?” Dean looks up and suddenly remembers the text conversation he had with the cute brunette from Waco. Shit! He didn’t empty his inbox yet. The things they discussed in those text messages after two nights together is not something he wants to share. “Give me that,” he demands, rushing over to retrieve his phone. “Hi Dean,” she starts reading the text message with an exaggerated feminine voice. “Are you still in town? If so, my place tonight? I want to lick your--”

Bug-eyed, she reads the end of that sentence, but then the person who it was meant for snatches the phone from her hand. Annoyed, Dean shoves the device in his pocket and strolls to his side of the room where he settles on the floor again. He continues to throw the ball across the small space, letting the same ‘thud-thud-pause’ fill the silence. Amused, Zoë monitors his actions.

“Still a womanizer as ever, I see,” she comments with a grin. Dean shrugs, a cocky smile on his lips while he perks one eyebrow.“I can’t help it that all the girls like me.” “Not all the girls,” she corrects. “Oh, don’t go breakin’ my heart now,” he says jokingly, throwing the ball again.

The huntress smiles at that and allows a pause to interrupt their banter for a moment, only to give Dean the impression that she’s letting him off the hook, of course. “So, was Erin any good?”

She pops the question shamelessly, not a sign of sight uneasiness to detect. Perplexed, Dean looks sideways at the huntress, who is curiously waiting for an answer. He huffs, shaking his head. Did she just ask him if the sex was alright? “I’m not gonna tell you that,” he chuckles, somewhat flustered. “Oh, come on, don’t be such a baby. I thought that was a guy thing, bragging about how mind blowing the sex was?” Zoë eyes him, amused, sparkles bringing out the amber shades in her brown eyes. She’s cornering him and she’s loving it. “Yeah, it’s a guy thing,” he claims, attempting to remain confident. “Meaning we brag amongst guys.” “Or,” she rephrases victoriously, “- is it that you don’t wanna open up about your sex life with other women to one you hit on?”

She slams the nail right on the head, because the staggered look on Dean’s face says more than a thousand words. And men think they are so mysterious. “I do not hit on you!” he exclaims, his voice hitting higher than anticipated. “Oh, you were so into me back then,” she says knowingly, narrowing her eyes.

Dean is aware that she’s talking about the time that he and his father were working her case. He has to admit - although he doesn’t want to right now - that he was hoping for a little fun that week at the Californian coast. When he first saw the twenty-one year old, she blew him off his feet, but he was disappointed soon after when he learned she had a boyfriend, who she was disgustingly in love with. Funny enough he was attracted to her when she was still this normal sweet surf chick scoring A’s in med school, but now that she’s a kick ass huntress infiltrated into the supernatural world, bossing him around like she’s God Almighty, that feeling disappeared. Although he must admit, she looks even sexier than she did back then, riding a Harley and dressed in leather. She matured beautifully. If he didn’t know her, he’d hook up with her anytime.

He sighs reluctantly while he catches the baseball and throws it again. “Maybe so. But I hope you’re not presuming I still am.” “You’re not?” Zoë pouts, pretending to be surprised and disappointed. “Cute,” Dean comments. “And why this change of heart?” she asks, daring and amused. “Face it: You’re an arrogant stuck-up bitch these days,” he returns, saying it as it is. “Thank you,” she chirps proudly and not even a bit insulted. “But you have to admit, you’re not really Mr. Nice Guy either.” But Dean doesn’t agree. “I’m actually quite charming when it comes to the ladies.” Zoë chuckles and clears her throat sarcastically. “Yeah, I've noticed.” “I said with the ladies, not with arrogant stuck-up bitches,” he corrects smartly.

The white leather ball, which just came bouncing off the wall again, suddenly gains speed, adjusts course and hits Dean in the head. He lets out a startled ‘ow!’ and stares at the round object hopping away from him on the wooden floorboard and then eyes Zoë, who is having trouble breathing while laughing. Despite her injury, she can’t help it but to roll on her side and wheeze. She wouldn’t give a damn if she turns demon because of these abilities, she loves them. Tears run down her cheeks as she does her best to get a decent sentence out.

“That was - that was priceless!” she hiccups. “So not funny,” Dean mutters, rubbing the spot on his forehead where he got hit. His glare is answered with another burst of laughter, but she quickly gets herself together. “Oh, c’mon, Dean,” she chuckles. “Can’t I have a little fun before I die?” “You’re not gonna die,” he says determinedly.

Zoë scoffs and looks away, not convinced by his positive view on the world. “I hate to break it to you, but we are locked in a cabin on a mountain in the middle of nowhere and - oh, right! There are a bunch of hellhounds waiting on our doorstep ready to shred us to pieces,” she notifies cynically. “Aren’t you a bucket full of sunshine,” he sneers. “I was a moment ago,” she grins darkly, aiming for the prank she just pulled on him. “I’m not a pessimist, Dean. I’m a realist.” “I don’t care what you are. Sam is on his way and he will get us out,” he ensures, trusting his brother. “And then what? He can’t keep us safe from these creatures. I checked everything, there’s just no way,” she counters.

Dean keeps looking at her, but doesn’t respond. Her emotional state is spiking up and down and he can’t really blame her. He’s trying to keep faith, but when Zoë brings it like that, it’s beginning to sink in that getting these hellhounds off her back might be an impossible task. She’s a smart girl, she got a full ride for UCLA. If she says she looked under every stone, she did.

Even though the huntress seems careless when it comes to danger, he’s sure she doesn’t want to go to Hell. He saw her response when she faced those pit bulls; they terrify her. Zoë Sullivan is scared to death. Dean takes a breath and allows the air to flow from his lungs again. Fuck, so am I, he realizes.

When he saw those red eyes glowing up from the dark, he didn’t see eyes, he saw the flames of Hell. Right then and there, he understood that the road that leads to death is only one path, but there’s a different exit to take for those who make a deal with the devil. The weak ones, the people who are not willing to work in order to achieve their dreams. The people who take the easy way out, in exchange for a shorter lifespan.

For a moment he observes the young woman, who stares at the door with a thousand yard stare. Zoë Sullivan, who fights everyone’s worst nightmares and faces death on daily bases, made a deal. She is the last person on earth he could imagine doing something like that; trading her soul without reading between the lines. Then there’s the other question; what did she get in return? Money? Her powers?

“Why did you do it?” he wonders, unable to keep his curiosity at bay anymore.

Zoë turns her head to look over, for a moment not sure how to act, let alone reply to that question. He doesn’t need to be specific, she knows what he’s talking about. Not intending to answer him, the huntress retreats back into her shell like she has done when he started his interrogation earlier today, but then it hits her. This might be her last chance to have a good conversation, to speak up or pass something on before it’s too late. Maybe even find redemption.

Besides, Dean got dragged into this mess too, thanks to her and a little ‘help’ from John. She has to clear up a few things, she owes him that much. Before she starts talking, though, she reaches inside her jacket and pulls a Marlboro pack from her inner pocket.

Dean watches how she opens it, takes one out together with her zippo, and tamps it in order to condense the loose tobacco. “Didn’t know you smoke.” “Only when I’m stressed and out of comfort food,” she replies.

Casually allowing the cigarette to hang from her mouth, she protects the lighter’s flame by cupping her hand around it as she sets fire to the end. She closes her eyes and inhales, the air being pulled through the filter flaring up the burning tip. Dean can see she really needed one, because she lets out a satisfied sigh while absorbing the nicotine. Without using words, she holds out the small box, proposing him one.

“Apparently those cancersticks will kill you,” Dean comments. Zoë chuckles. “And the job won’t?” “Touché,” he admits.

He takes her up on the offer and gets up, crossing the distance between them and settling down on the ground next to Zoë. The hunter pulls a cigarette out of the gold and white pack, the blend that Zoë preferes. He holds the filter between his surprisingly full lips while she ignites her zippo, holding the tiny flare in front of the man next to her, the yellow glow complimenting his handsome features. Dean hollows his cheeks as he sucks the air through the tightly rolled paper, the end of the cigarette catching fire. Only then does she lower the lighter, putting it back in her pocket.

Intrigued, Zoë watches him. This isn’t the first time he smokes, the way he has the cigarette between the scarred knuckles of his index and middle finger and allowing the toxins to cool in his mouth before he inhales. He lays back his head against the wooden table surface and allows the toxins to flow from his nose, enjoying the flavor of the nicotine. There’s something incredibly seductive about it.

“Didn’t know you smoke,” she returns, copying his previous words. “I used to when I was sixteen or seventeen, until Dad found out,” Dean tells. “He made it very clear that if we’d ever get chased down and wouldn’t be able to keep up because of my ‘charcoaled lungs’, he’d leave me there, so I quit.” Zoë scoffs, not surprised that John would say such a thing. “Yet here you are.” “Yeah, here I am,” he sighs.

The young woman by his side puts her pack away and stares ahead as the two share a moment in silence, only moving when she has to flick the ash. The question that had her dying for a cigarette in the first place is raging through her mind as she tries to figure out how to answer it best. Why did you do it? It’s a solid question, of which she has never shared the truth before. After a silence that feels like it takes ages, Zoë finally begins to speak.

“Because I was desperate.”

Her voice is so much more fragile than she ever wanted it to sound. The troubled huntress doesn’t look at him, she simply can’t. She’s ashamed of the fact that she has to explain herself to him, and yet she doesn’t regret what she did.

Her only company follows with another question. “What did you make a deal for, Zo? What on this God awful earth is possibly worth your soul?” he asks, unable to understand how she could give up something like that. She swallows apprehensively; this is gonna be a shocker. “My father’s life.”

Speechless, he stares at her, his green eyes growing large and his mouth hanging slightly agape. The unexpected revelation has him turning his head away from the huntress slightly, his gaze focusing on nothing in particular. She made a deal for her father?

He goes back to the dreadful day in June, 2001. Dean remembers well what happened to Mr. Sullivan, the unpleasant sight carved into his memories. Four and a half years ago, after a day of shopping on Rodeo Drive in Los Angeles California, Zoë returned home and found her father alone. Somewhere in the big city she got ambushed without even knowing it, by something called a Diligo Vesco demon. A nasty son of a bitch, which feeds on the loved ones of the person possessed. It only manifests when the victim truly loves someone, and Zo sure loved her Dad. In a flick of a switch the creature from Hell took over and viciously killed Mr. Sullivan, after which it returned to its hideout, leaving Zoë in distress over the corpse of her father.

She saw the killing with her own eyes and lived through the horror show as if she was the one committing the murder, but she wasn’t able to control her body until the job was done. But Zoë didn’t understand what was happening. She had never heard of demons before, she didn’t even believe in ghosts. Petrified and confused, the poor girl called her sister.

Abigail knew exactly what to do, though. The family had been successful at keeping the youngest safe from all that is supernatural until that dreadful moment, but the first born Sullivan was well aware of what really hides in the shadows. Back then, she didn’t hunt full time, only occasionally picking up a case here and there. Nonetheless, Abi is a familiar face in the business, and the name ‘Sullivan’ sent shivers down creatures’ spines long before Zoë ever drew her first salt circle.

The huntress knew people who could help her terrorized sister and rang the very best for help; John Winchester. Dean was sitting next to him in the front seat of the Impala when his father got the call. He remembers, because he had only seen him so frustrated and upset whenever the memories of Mary were too painfully vivid to comprehend. The second he heard about Robert Sullivan’s death, he dropped everything and raced to Huntington Beach. It was clear that he knew the man.

There was no saving John’s old friend, though; he was dead as can be. But now Zoë is actually telling him that he is alive and kicking? Completely stunned, he turns to his colleague again. “How did you figure out about dealing with demons?”

“Dad left me a locker which I was only allowed to open if something bad happened. I thought this would be the appropriate time to do so,” Zoë explains. “It contained just about everything I needed to know about the supernatural. Books, pendants, all kinds of weeds and spices, a key to the armory, locations of the storage units, everything. I began reading his journal. At first I thought he was a part of some kind of cult, that he was crazy, and Abi too. But after what I experienced…” Her gaze goes blank for a moment, the images she wished she could erase from her memory pushing themselves to the surface. “I knew it was true. So after you and your father left, I started studying.”

He listens intently without interrupting her. It’s strange how calm she remains, her voice monotone and her body barely moving. She must be casting out her emotions in an attempt to protect herself. The only sign of her feeling anything at all is a stray tear, clinging to her eyelashes as she refuses to blink, the smallest flutter probably enough for the drop to fall. She sits up a little straighter and continues her confession.

“I learned about crossroad demons after a few years of hunting. A deal was the first thing that popped up in my head. All I had to do was bury a tin box containing a bit of graveyard dirt, a black cat bone, a picture of myself and some other shady shit in the center of an intersection and I could get Dad back”, she tells, smiling slightly for a brief moment.

“I reckon the demon showed up,” Dean presumes, considering the current situation that they are in. “He did, but instead of the usual ten years, I got one. The demon claimed he couldn’t bring the soul of a former hunter back for the average price. Especially since Dad had quite an impressive track record on smiting demons.” She begins to struggle now, her voice losing strength. She clears her throat in the hope it will return. “I didn’t care about the steep price, I just wanted him home so bad. Abi, she, uh - she left, soon after you did, and - and I wanted my family back together. I thought…” She takes a shaky breath, fighting the surfacing sorrow. “I thought that if I could bring him back, everything would be alright again.”

Tears drag a shimmering path in their wake, but she keeps fighting those she hasn’t shed yet. Her cigarette, which she’s almost finished with, trembles because of her unsteady hands. “But it didn’t,” Dean assumes. “No.” She shakes her head. “Abi disappeared along with Dad. Everything changed and it won’t ever be the same. When you know--” “- you can never go back,” he finishes.

Dean barely remembers the moment that everything changed for him. No wonder, he was only four years old at the time. But he recalls how devastated he was, having lost so much, his life altered forever. Even at that very young age, he realized very well what was happening. Four or twenty-one; it doesn’t really matter. Knowledge like that is destructive at any age.

He finishes his cigarette and stubs it out on the floor, glancing at her sideways. “I’m sorry, Zo,” he acknowledges, hoping that him being here will help her feel less alone in the dark world they live in. “I know it’s tough.” She bites her lip, unable to accept his kindness. “I don’t want your sympathy, Dean.” “Give yourself a break here. You’ve been through hell,” he returns, seeing right through the mask. “No, I haven’t. I’m going to, though,” Zoë comments, forcing a cynical smile.

Dean keeps watching her, though, witnessing how the tough armor of the warrior beside him crumbles. Normally, he isn’t good at this. Sam is the one who comforts the grieving, but right now he feels so sorry for her that his hand seeks hers on the timber floor. She closes her eyes when they touch, and remains unmoved when the man who she can resonate with traces her soft skin with his thumb. Zoë allows it, but doesn’t want him to go any further. If he pulls her into an embrace now, her fragile, glass heart will shatter into pieces so small, she will never be able to glue herself back together.

“Don’t,” she warns, quivering. “I can’t break. I never did and I will not now.”

Her brown irises have lost their sparkle, the desperation in them scaring Dean. He sees so much pain and sorrow inside the gloom of her pupils, so much he recognizes yet doesn’t understand. He thought he had it bad, his mother perished, his Dad gone. But Zoë, she’s on a whole other level. She actually experienced her father's death, felt his bones break, saw the life leave his body. Like she said; she has his blood on her hands, and that’s something she will never be able to wash off. Her sister Abigail disappeared from the face of the earth for God knows what reason, and he doesn’t even know the story of her mother. Zoë Sullivan is completely alone and has been for more than four years. He himself is going nuts after three days without his brother. How could he impossibly go through life without anyone by his side?

“You see, Dean? Do you understand why I’m careless?” She half shrugs, so much agony in her piercing gaze, that Dean is afraid that the vision might haunt him. “Why I don’t give a fuck if I live or die?”

His jaw clenches, muscles flexing underneath his scruff. Then he swallows down hard and can’t look at her anymore.

“There’s no one to stay for, there’s... there’s no one left,” she whimpers. “Honestly, I wish I’d just get killed during a hunt, or get hit by a bus. I’d rather be dead. I already am inside anyway.”

She wipes at her face with her free hand and forks her fingers through her tangled hair. Tears mixed with mascara inflict dark lines on her cheeks, reminding Dean that there’s nothing he can do to help heal these deep wounds. “I just - I don’t wanna go to Hell, not after what I did. Can you imagine what they will do to me down there?” she croaks out. “I - I just want this to be over, I wanna lay down and never wake up. I need a break from this constant pain in my chest.” She places her hand over her heart, her fingers clenching into a fist as breaths pass her lips hitching, struggling. “I just want to die,” she cries.

This entire time, all Dean can do is sit by her side and listen. So this is her, this is Zoë. All the smartass comments, the sarcastic remarks and clever answers; it’s just a facade. Underneath that costume, she’s still the girl from California who got caught in a web of tragedies. The torment he is witnessing is unlike any he has ever seen before, the embodiment of pure sorrow and self-hatred. He didn’t know a human being could feel like this, and that says something coming from him.

He glances at her again, noticing her blank expression as the huntress stares at the fire. Despite that his conscience tells him to do so, he doesn’t lay his arm around her shoulder, nor does he pull her into his chest, simply because she asked him not to. He doesn’t want to break her, so he just continues to hold her hand, hoping the connection can offer her some solace. Hoping that she will come to understand that she’s not alone, not anymore.

Absent, the huntress stairs at the flames, wishing the ones that once set her heart alight wouldn’t have been extinguished by all the horror that has tainted her life. She can’t speak anymore, neither can she cry, a numbness slowly taking over her mind and enveloping her in darkness. It baffles her that she’s able to shed a tear every time she feels like this, because honestly, she thought she ran out of those a long time ago.

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee. Link in bio at the top of the page.

#Supernatural series #Dean Winchester fanfic #Sam Winchester fanfic #Dean angst #Sam angst #SPN #Supernatural #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Supernatural OFC series #Dean x OFC #Sam x OFC #Dean x OC #Sam x OC #Zoë Sullivan #STSS #Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Kate Huntington

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ao3feed-love · 2 years ago

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[VID] My 37 OTPs

by UltraVids1 (Ultra)

A simple tribute to my 37 OTPs.

Words: 0, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Firefly (TV 2002), Agent Carter (TV), How I Met Your Mother, Hart of Dixie, Once Upon a Time (TV), Gilmore Girls, 10th Kingdom (TV), Leverage, Necessary Roughness (TV 2011), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), X-Men (Movieverse), Veronica Mars (TV), Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Lethal Weapon (TV), My Boys (TV), Caroline in the City, That '70s Show, Chuck (TV), Angel: the Series, Press Gang, The Librarians (TV 2014), Alice (TV 2009), Smallville, White Collar (TV 2009), Timeless (TV 2016), The Big Bang Theory (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Malcolm Reynolds/Inara Serra, Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa, Robin Scherbatsky/Barney Stinson, Zoe Hart/Wade Kinsella, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Luke Danes/Lorelai Gilmore, Virginia Lewis/Wolf, Sophie Devereaux/Nathan Ford, Nico Careles/Danielle "Dani" Santino, Spike/Buffy Summers, Logan/Rogue (X-Men), Lemon Breeland/Lavon Hayes, Rory Gilmore/Jess Mariano, Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth Swann, Maureen Cahill/Martin Riggs, Brendan Dorff/P. J. Franklin, Caroline Duffy/Richard Karinsky, Jackie Burkhart/Steven Hyde, Chuck Bartowski/Sarah Walker, Cordelia Chase/Allen Francis Doyle, Parker/Eliot Spencer (Leverage), Lynda Day/Spike Thomson, Eve Baird/Flynn Carsen, Jayne Cobb/River Tam, Alice Hamilton/Hatter (Alice TV 2009), Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan, Hoban "Wash" Washburne/Zoë Washburne, Lex Luthor/Chloe Sullivan, Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston, Tansy Truitt/George Tucker, Cassandra Cillian/Jacob "Jake" Stone, Dick Casablancas/Cindy "Mac" Mackenzie, Sheldon Cooper/Penny, Kaylee Frye/Simon Tam, Neal Caffrey/Sara Ellis

Additional Tags: Love, Kissing, One True Pairing, Video, Embedded Video, Song: Can't Help Falling in Love (Elvis Presley)

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/41913813

#ao3feed #ao3feed-love #LoVe #Logan Echols #Veronica Mars #Logan x Veronica #Veronica x Logan

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ao3feed-that70sshow · 2 years ago

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[VID] My 37 OTPs

by UltraVids1 (Ultra)

A simple tribute to my 37 OTPs.

Words: 0, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Additional Tags: Love, Kissing, One True Pairing, Video, Embedded Video, Song: Can't Help Falling in Love (Elvis Presley)

from AO3 works tagged 'That '70s Show' https://ift.tt/ZYLG8kv via IFTTT

#IFTTT #AO3 works tagged 'That '70s Show'#that 70s show #that '70s show #ao3 feed #fan fiction

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ao3feed-spuffy · 2 years ago

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[VID] My 37 OTPs

by UltraVids1 (Ultra)

A simple tribute to my 37 OTPs.

Words: 0, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Additional Tags: Love, Kissing, One True Pairing, Video, Embedded Video, Song: Can't Help Falling in Love (Elvis Presley)

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/41913813

#ao3feed #ao3feed-spuffy #spuffy #buffy x spike

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ao3feed-peggysous · 2 years ago

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[VID] My 37 OTPs

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/HxmVTI5

by UltraVids1 (Ultra)

A simple tribute to my 37 OTPs.

Words: 0, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Additional Tags: Love, Kissing, One True Pairing, Video, Embedded Video, Song: Can't Help Falling in Love (Elvis Presley)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/HxmVTI5

#ao3feed #fanfic #agent carter #peggysous #peggy carter

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teresa-67 · 4 years ago

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Fanfiction Recommendations

Hi there! My name is Teri/Tessa and I’m an addicted reader. I would like to share stories written by some heck talented writers!

Please consider sharing this “masterlist” of amazing work. People writing those stories spent a lot of time on it and gave it their heart, sweat and tears. Writers share a piece of themselves with every story they post and the least we can do is give them some much needed love ❤

You’ll find mostly series here, but if you squint you may come across some one shots.

Let’s read!

This post will be updated every once in a while and first I would like to share stories, that I think deserve more love and receive much less attention than they should.

OFC stories

Supernatural: the Sullivan Series - written by @katehuntington - on hiatus

Dean Winchester x OFC Zoë Sullivan

Huntress Zoë Sullivan has a tainted past and buried secrets, which have molded her into a survivor with nothing left to lose; confident, reckless and borderline insane. Her life is about to take another turn when she runs into the Winchester brothers. Their lives and destinies are threaded together, all three of them a part of a much bigger picture.

- this is my all time favorite OFC story! Zoë is absolute spitfire and you never know what’s coming your way with this girl. I could talk about this series forever and when I tell you that Kate’s writting is so vivid that you’ll be feeling like you took the bullet, I ain’t kidding.

Series

Call of the Ocean - collaboration of @flamencodiva and @anathewierdo - WIP

CEO!Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

CEO of Winchester Auto Dean Winchester has had enough of the office life. With his father keeping him from what he wants to do, which is work on the plant floor, Dean decides to leave for a quiet life. In Matagorda, Texas, he finds something he never thought he would, a chance encounter with a mythical creature.

- definitely my favorite Mermaid!reader x Dean, I mean... come on, you know you need some mermaid in your life and these ladies right here will give you one salty story!

Crimson Leaves - written by @waywardrose13 - WIP

Dean Winchester x Reader

The dead have risen. Amid a global pandemic that causes the dead to prowl the Earth, a leader of a small camp in North Carolina fights for survival. Y/N Y/l/n was certain of three things: One, only a bite would turn you. Two, the brain must be destroyed in order to completely kill the thing. Three, trust no one. When a stranger is brought to her camp half alive, Y/N must make the decision to throw him to the walkers, or let the mystery man heal within the gates. As Dean Winchester recovers from a zombie attack, he worms his way into the camp, and eventually into Y/N’s heart. Love is a dangerous game, especially when it’s played with the dead.

- so far the Best Apocalypse story I’ve read! It’s different, it’s unexpected and Jesus Christ just give me another chapter! This story is gorgeous and you should definitely check it out!

What He Lost, What He Found - written by @flamencodiva - WIP

Dean Winchester x LatinaFemale!Reader

Dean thought that he had found it, the light that could illuminate his path forward in life. Unspeakable events led to losing that very light that he had cherished. After 16 years, will he truly be able to find what he had lost?

- this story is a rollercoaster of feelings, so if you like a good cry, this is for you because God knows this made me a crying baby more than once.

Knight in shinning armor - written by @angelkurenai - complete

Knight!Dean Winchester x Princess!Reader

Imagine being a princess and falling in love with one of your father’s knights, Dean Winchester, although you are forbidden to.

- you know, you just know you want a medieval story in your life. This story is so lovely (for the most part hehe) and one of my very firsts and very favorite. You can be sure there’ll be more recomendations coming for this talented girl;)

Life for Rent - written by @winchest09 - complete

Mobster!Dean Winchester x Escort!Reader

Y/N can be anyone for a price. Her life is ruled by contracts, men and money. It’s all she knows; countless identities, seedy clients, and strict regulations. She has to obey the rules, but her past is full of secrets and her future is resting in the wrong hands. But will her next client be the same as the rest?

- uh, I get chills only thinking about it. This story is a Masterpiece. Period. And if you have a problem like I had, and can’t find good mobster story and even better, can’t find legitimately good escort story, this is for you! No cheap lines, no cheap girls, no cheap motels, and when I tell you what happens in chapter 21 the... well, guess you’ll have to find out;)

Love me once, shame on you - written by @jay-and-dean - complete

Dean Winchester - Reader

2005. Dean and her are in love. He’s the first. Fist kiss, first friend, first love. And she’s everything he didn’t know he needed. Secrets are shared, promises are made… And broken.

2019. He doesn’t even remember she exists, like nothing was real, like he never told her she was the one. She spent her all life trying to deal with his betrayal. But this time she’s about to unravel the mystery of why Dean Winchester broke her heart.

- this series is special to me and Jay knows why... I think it can be special for you too.

Life Lesson’s - written by @deangirl93 - complete

Mechanic!Dean x Teacher!Reader - Neighbor AU

Y/N Y/L/N moves to Lawrence, Kansas to start her life afresh, where she’s hired as the English teacher at the junior high school. Things are going as they would on moving day in a new town, until she meets her neighbor, Dean Winchester. She wasn’t expecting him to be everything she could possibly want. She certainly wasn’t expecting to fall for him, as they get to know each other. He was in a relationship; he had a son, even if he wasn’t actually his. A son who’s in her 8th grade class.

- I want to move across the world and for my car to break so bad. This here is some pretty awesome neighbors story and first series ever of this wonderful babe, and I must say she took it by the balls and gave us some good stuff. I really hope to see more series (my inner series girl, I know) in the future.

ABO Series

With Wolves - written by @bamby0304 - complete

Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader x Alpha!Sam

Known as The Omen, your reputation puts fear in some of the most dangerous and deadly Alphas. So when you’re caught and sent to the worst maximum security facility unknown to man, no one expected an unclaimed Omega to walk through the gates in shackles and an orange jumpsuit. Word circulates, and before long there’s a price on your head. Who will claim the untamed Omega?

- This. This story made me fall in love with ABO. It’s such a steamy and hot and emotional, with events you won’t expect and story you never heard. It’s absolutely fabulous and I love the dynamics that’s such greatly written. I don’t think I can say I read better ABO series so far, and I’m so addicted to the threesome parts of this story that I should be ashamed, but I’m not! This will suck you in and I’ll be waiting for you in the ‘whore part’ of hell.

Made for You - written by @bamby0304 - complete

Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

Dean was yours. You were his. At least that’s what it felt like when you both presented. But then John sent you away, at the ripe age of fifteen. ‘For your own safety,’ that’s what he said. You go about your life, believing what John did was for the best… but all that changes when a certain bloody and wounded Alpha is dropped on your dining room table.

- I mean... does it really surprise you? Do I need to tell you the various reasons why you should give this a shot? No? Cool, ‘cause I’m already pissed I’m not an Omega living in woods.

But I gotta say, that I’m so sorry that this babe is not writting anymore or at least not in a long time. Because veen though I haven’t read all of your stories, these are pretty exceptional pieces and I really hope you’ll come back to it ❤

Coming Home - written by @ficpantry - complete

Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

(Period AU). War is hard. It changes people. After 6 years in what can only be described as Purgatory, the Winchester’s return to Sioux Falls as protecters of the realm. Only, Dean wasn’t expecting to find his childhood best friend gone when he came back. Two years after the war passes, however, the young Omega decides it’s time to come home.

- Could you believe that this is this babe’s first work ever?! I was in shock when I found out because I wouldn’t guess it at all. It’s again something completely different. It’s a ABO period series and my heart is craving more of those. You can feel the atmosfere she was going for and the emotions behind strong faces and I’m so proud of this girl for what she accomplished on her own.

Can’t Fight Fate - written by @acreativelydifferentlove - complete

Alpha!Jensen x Omega!reader

You’re working in a small bakery to make ends meet when an Alpha walks through the door and turns your world upside down.

-Who wants to work in bakery and have a God of an Alpha come in and make you his? I gotta warn you that there is angst and our absolute sweetheart Jensen. This is a story of real life (if it was ABO) and I like that there are real struggles that comes with living. And of course sexy times;)

Thank you for reading! For tonight I think it’s enough, seeing as I’ll be recommending much more with time.

Have a wonderful read, Tessa

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fuckyeahhansonfamily · 4 years ago

Note

Thank you for the birthday post. For the weddings I've found Walker-Diana august 11 1972, Isaac-Nikki september 30 2006, Taylor-Natalie june 8 2002, Zac-Kate june 3 2006, Jessica-Joe ? ? 2011, Avery-Tyler september 9 2017, Mackenzie-Nicole august 20 2020 and Zoë-Sullivan september 16 2018.

Those are all correct I think. the missing info for Joe/Jessica is September 21, 2011

#answered #hanson #hanson family

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kwebtv · 1 month ago

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Lucy Sullivan is Getting Married - ITV - November 8, 1999 - December 26, 2000

Romantic Comedy (16 episodes)

Running Time: 30 minutes

Stars:

Sam Loggin as Lucy Sullivan

Letitia Dean as Charlotte

Zoë Eeles as Karen

Gwyneth Strong as Hetty

Debbie Chazen as Meredia

Sara Stockbridge as Megan

Gerard Butler as Gus

Cameron Jack as George

Niall Buggy as Mr. Sullivan

Frances Tomelty as Mrs. Sullivan

Simon Greenall as Richard

James Hillier as Steve

Pascal Langdale as Daniel

David Simeon as Ken

Michael Troughton as Ivor

Shirley Stelfox as Mrs. Nolan

#Lucy Sullivan is Getting Married #TV #Romantic Comedy #ITV #1990's #Sam Loggin #Letitia Dean #Zoe Eeles #Gwyneth Strong #Debbie Chazen #Sara Stockbridge #Gerald Butler

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katehuntington · 4 years ago

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Title: In Bad Waters - part fifteen Word count: ±6250 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part fifteen summary: The hunt is over, and Zoë and the brothers go separate ways. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons. Also a deep bow to @fangirl-and-medstudent-help who was very patient with me when I asked about a hundred medical questions. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

The lights of the suite switch on when Zoë slips the keycard in its holder by the door. After the assault she suffered earlier today, the Hampton Inn hotel management provided her with a bigger and better accommodation. Although she doesn’t plan to spend another night in Paragould, she took the generous offer. Dean enters the spacious room as well, Sam following close behind, in case his brother needs assistance. It bugs the hell out of the older sibling, who has grumpily told him that he’s fine a couple of times already. Yet, he allows the hovering, because honestly; he doesn’t feel so fresh.

On the way over, Zoë told him to lose the soaked shirt, which contradicted Dean’s instincts, because he has never felt this cold in his entire life, despite the heaters blowing air into the Chevy at level inferno. Even now, he can’t stop himself from shivering, his teeth clattering every now and then, despite his favorite leather coat that he’s wearing, the only clothing item that didn’t get drenched.

Exhausted, he plops down on the kingsize bed, to out of it to comment on the luxurious suite. Closing his eyes for a second, he rubs his forehead, trying to rid himself from the throbbing inside his skull. He coughs again, the involuntary action burning his lungs. It’s a painful yet ironic sensation, because he didn’t expect to feel like his airway is on fire after drowning in a fucking lake.

“Get out of those wet clothes, Dean,” Zoë tells him sternly, nodding at his jeans while slipping her Harley Davidson jacket on a coat hanger. “We need to warm you up.”

Normally, he would have had at least three sly remarks ready, but not this time. Instead, he nods with a sniff, bending down to untie his shoelaces with shaky fingers. Sam drops one of their duffel bags on the other side of the bed, pulling out a clean pair of jeans, one of Dean’s henley’s, a hoodie, socks and underwear. “I’m gonna take a shower first,” Dean says, pulling off his soaked boots.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Zoë intervenes, setting up her extensive medical kit on the nightstand. “I made quite an effort to bring you back to life, so it would be an awful waste of my time if you go into shock and die on the bathroom floor.” Sam raises his eyebrows at that, much like Dean, who lets his hand slip from his face. “How else am I gonna get warm, ‘cause I’m fucking freezing,” he returns, his voice still hoarse. “By raising your temperature slowly. Sam, can you grab a towel and fill that hot water bottle we got from the front desk? And get the extra comforters from the other bed.”

While the younger Winchester goes to collect the required items, Zoë opens the lid and takes out an ear thermometer from the metal briefcase, placing a clean probe tip on the end while she sits down next to the battered hunter. Dean flinches away from her when she cups his face firmly to hold him in place, earning an annoyed glare from the former med student. “Would you like me to use the regular one? Because I’ll give you one guess where I’d have to stick that. Now, sit still,” she orders, pulling his ear back to insert the device into his ear canal. “Jesus, you’re not the one for bedside manners, are you?” Dean mutters, but cooperates either way.

Zoë doesn’t respond, waiting for the thermometer to beep. She retreats it when it does exactly that and reads the display. “You’re at 95.2.” “That low?” he says, unpleasantly surprised. She nods, placing the small device on the side table. “That’s what happens when your main generator loses power. The central heating shuts down real quick when your heart stops beating.”

Dean sniffles, very much aware of the fluid that is still creeping up his throat. He fights the urge to cough again and clears his throat uncomfortably, when Sam returns with the hot water bottle under his arm, white towels with the Hampton Inn logo on them in one hand and two thick duvets in the other. “Dry yourself off and put on something warm, then wrap yourself in these.” She takes the comforter and lays it on the bed next to the older Winchester, before folding the water bottle in one of the towels. “Here, keep this close to you. Don’t lay down and don’t fall asleep,” she warns. “I’m gonna freshen up.”

She gets up and muffles a grunt behind gritted teeth, her cracked ribs once again reminding the huntress of her current fragile state. Adrenaline pushed down the pain in the midst of action, but now that the dust has settled, it’s back at full force. Picking up her bag on the way, she heads to the spacious bathroom, locking the door behind her. Not really ready for the sight, she peels her wet top from her skin while she stands in front of the nine ft. wide mirror. Dark bruises greet her when she discards the tank top, her bra following suit. They match the colorful display on her right cheekbone and the black and blue fingerprints on her neck.

“Wonderful,” she muddles, continuing to strip down, the soaked through fabric smacking against the nature stone tiles. She has no idea how she’s gonna ride all the way up to the Canadian border with an injury like this, but she doesn’t have a choice. Time isn’t exactly on her side.

After a shower, Zoë runs a towel over her head and blow-dries her brown locks quickly. Usually, she allows her curls to dry naturally, but wearing a helmet on wet hair is anything but pleasant, not to mention that she will have to deal with a fogged up visor throughout most of the trip.

She puts on clean underwear and hoists her leather biker pants up her legs, cursing under her breath at the ache that sears through her side with even the slightest movement. Something needs to be done, because she won’t last an hour on the Harley. Before she steps outside the bathroom, she secures her bra clasps. Not bothered to put on her top just yet, she pops her head from behind the door. “Sam?” The tall young guy looks up and for a second she wonders if he can actually see her through the fringe of brown damp locks. “Can you grab me some KT tape from my med kit?” she asks, nodding at the briefcase next to Dean, who is huddled up in the exact spot where she left him, wrapped in the thick comforters. “Sure,” Sam obliges, getting up. After rummaging for a few seconds, he finds what he’s looking for and turns to the bathroom to hand it over, but apparently she has different ideas. “Get in,” she tells him.

Perplexed, but not brave enough to hesitate and give her a reason to scold at him, he enters the large room, which could easily be considered a mini spa. A large jacuzzi is situated in the corner, a walk-in shower next to it. There’s even a sauna, the wooden benches shielded off by a glass wall. It’s nothing like the shabby motel rooms he and Dean usually coop up in. His admiration for the luxury comes to a sudden stop when his absent gaze lands on Zoë. Like a virgin teenager who walked in on his friend’s older sister, he stares at her for a short second, eyes wide and blown away. Shit, she’s not wearing a shirt.

“Done gaping?” she responds, bored, placing her hand firmly in her unharmed side. “I need to tape my side and I can’t reach properly.” Feeling caught, he shifts his attention to the KT tape in his hand. “Uh… y-yeah, sure,” he stammers, fiddling to open the package. Rolling her eyes, she snatches the small box from his hands and opens it. “I swear to God, Sam, get yourself together. You’ve seen me in less.”

Uncomfortably, the younger Winchester runs his fingers through his hair. Why is he being so awkward? Or maybe the better question is; why can’t he keep his eyes off her? He tries his best not to stare, but when he does, he notices the dark bruises on her ribs. “Damn it, Zo. She got you good,” he huffs, worry replacing the uneasiness. “It’s not that bad. I just need to secure it before I hit the road,” the tough woman mutters, peeling the plastic away from the sticky coating. She turns her back to Sam, moving her brown wavy hair over her left shoulder and out of the way. “You need to place the first strip diagonally and downward, starting from just below the scapula. You might need to lift my bra a little.”

Somewhat nervous, the thoughtful guy rubs his hands together first, not wanting his touch to be cold. After handing him the medical tape, she lifts her right arm, hissing at the stretch. “Right here?” he asks, lifting the wing of her lace bra, before sticking one end of the strip right below her shoulder blade. She nods, breathing out a shuddering breath. “Yeah.”

Sam handles her gently, the pads of his fingers not as rough as she expected hunter’s hands to be. In silence he works, focussed on his task. Zoë watches him in the mirror, a small smile of amusement pulling at the corners of her mouth, despite the discomfort. His eyebrows are knitted together in concentration, hazel eyes tracing her bruised form. After a few more instructions, he secures the second strip with the same precision. Zoë can’t deny nor ignore the current that his touch sends through her body, and it has her intrigued.

“One more. Vertical along my side,” she says, her voice softer than she has spoken to him all evening. The younger Winchester tries not to gulp visibly, holding the enchanting woman still, while he smoothens the final strip down her bruised rib cage. He’s careful to prevent pressure on the sensitive area, not wanting to hurt her, but she shivers anyway. When he directs his gaze on her in their reflection, Sam notices it’s not pain that has her shuddering, because her challenging eyes tell a different story. They behold a hint of curiosity, interest... lust even.

Not sure how to cope with the tension that hangs in the air, he clears his throat and lets his finger slip from her beautifully toned and proportioned body, averting his eyes from the mirror. “I’m - uh - I’ll let you get dressed,” he stutters, awkwardly pointing his thumb over his shoulder before he heads to the door. “I’ll be right out,” she promises, picking a clean shirt from her bag.

Zoë watches him leave, smirking at his behavior. He really doesn’t know how to act around her, and it’s highly entertaining. There is a definite pull she experiences towards him, an attraction that she can’t quite place, but it’s not something she can dwell on. This case will be the last one they worked together and tonight will be the last time she ever sees him. But before they go separate ways, she needs to give his brother a thorough check up, even though she doesn’t like his company half as much as Sam’s. Suck it up, Zo. You’ve got work to do.

Refreshed and dressed, she enters the master suite again, Dean still on the side of the bed, wrapped up in comforters like a burrito. Zoë’s plump lips press together in a thin line, because now is not the moment to make fun of the hunter, who without a doubt feels miserable.

“Alright, let’s give you your physical exam so I can hit the road, huh?” she suggests, sitting down next to the older Winchester brother, taking her stethoscope from her briefcase and hanging it around her neck, after which she picks up a blood pressure gauge as well. “Stretch out your right arm.”

He shrugs the heavy comforter off his bare shoulders, silently obeying his physician’s orders. Again, Dean misses the perfect opportunity for a dirty comeback, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Although Zoë hasn’t known him for long, she did pick up on his usual demeanor, lightening the mood with a witty comment and some dark humor. Now, the joker is awfully quiet.

“Y’know, you guys can have the room for the night,” she offers. “It’s paid for anyway.” “Nah, I feel fine. Besides, if we don’t leave tonight, we’re gonna be late for our wolf hunt,” Dean replies, watching her strap the cuff around his upper arm. Sam leans against the wall, observing the skilled woman as well. He hates to admit it, but Dean has a point. “He’s right. Today was the first night of a full moon, we won’t have much time if we stay any longer.” “I’m just saying it might not be a bad idea to rest up,” Zoë points out, squeezing the rubber pump that’s attached to the cuff, filling it with air until circulation is cut off. “But you two kamikaze morons do what you gotta do.” Sam scoffs at that. “You’re one to talk.”

Her head cocks in his direction, staring him down intimidatingly, but Sam doesn’t budge and arches one eyebrow at her knowingly. His attitude annoys Zoë, and yet she doesn’t bite his head off. If circumstances were any different, she would have gladly spent at least the night in this luxurious suite and added several more, but she simply can’t. Wanting to avoid the reasoning behind her departure by all costs, she drops the matter.

Instead, she pulls the stethoscope from behind her neck, widens the headset and places the tips in her ears. She then continues to place the diaphragm just above the crease of the elbow, while allowing the cuff to deflate. Blood begins to flow through the brachial artery again, causing a beat to thud against Zoë’s eardrums, and she reads the systolic pressure on the meter. Once the blood vessels remain open and the pounding sound stops, the closest what the Winchesters have to a doctor reads the meter again.

“Your BP is 125 over 80. For a guy who lives off gas station food, pizza and burgers, that’s pretty damn healthy,” she comments, hooking the stethoscope around her neck again. “Great. So can I go now?” Dean is about to rise up from the bed, but Zoë grips him on the junction between his neck and his shoulder, pushing him down to sit on the bed again. “Did I say I was done?” she snaps back at him.

Dean bites his tongue when he feels her nails dig into his shoulder. He wants to yelp and call her names, yet he doesn’t, because Sam shoots him a warning glare. He argues with his little brother in silence, the younger sibling’s wide eyes sending death threats when Dean’s upper lip twitches while hinting at the woman who currently has a tight hold on him. He then shakes his head and gives in, too tired to have this discussion.

Zoë ignores the tension all together. “Well, if you aren’t gonna stay, do you mind starting to load up the car, Sam? I wanna check out as soon as I’m done here,” Zoë states, giving him something else to do other than lurking over her shoulder. “Sure,” the tall hunter says, and begins to gather their things, including the wet clothes Dean discarded earlier.

When Sam has left, the tough Winchester drops his head, blinking a couple of times, clearly not feeling his best. Zoë monitors him closely; she had a hunch he was keeping up appearance in order not to worry his sibling. “So now that your brother is out of the room, how are you really feeling?” she asks, removing the cuff from Dean’s arm. “And cut the bullshit. No one expects you to feel fine after flatlining.”

The hunter looks up at her from under heavy eyelids, trying to figure out what her intentions are. He assumes she’s asking to determine further medical action, and so he drops the act. “I - uh… I feel off, man,” he admits, pinching the bridge of his nose again. “Headache?” she wonders, storing the sphygmomanometer away. He nods, swallowing hard. “Let me guess; you’re experiencing dizziness, decreased muscle strength, and feel like you could sleep for a week?” Zoë fills in for him. “Sounds about right,” Dean sighs.

Zoë puts in the ear tips of her stethoscope again in order to examine his heart, holding the bell between her second and third digit. She places the diaphragm on the right of the sternum, tracing his ribs under her fingertips to determine the right spot in order to hear the aortic valve. A stillness falls over the two, as Zoë concentrates to dissect the sound of Dean’s steady heartbeat, her other hand still holding him by the shoulder, her touch much more gentle this time around.

Not wanting to disturb her focus, the older Winchester brother allows his gaze to wander, spending this rare moment without them yelling at each other to admire her. Whenever the tough as nails huntress boils his blood, he tends to only see the ugly side of Zoë Sullivan, but right here in this peaceful serenity, her beauty stuns him. Her face is slightly turned away, the profile of her sharp jawline and slightly upward pointed nose brought out by the warm light on the nightstand. She’s close enough for him to smell the coconut shampoo lingering in her freshly washed hair. Only now does he realize that his shivering has stilled, but he’s not sure if it actually has to do with his body temperature steadily going up, or that her soft touch is what calms his tremors. He’s not used to kind contact, a hand on his shoulder, a sweet ruffle through his hair like his mother used to do, but deep down, he craves it.

When she shifts the bell of her stethoscope to the left side of his chest, Dean glances to her hand still gently gripping his tattooed arm, which is decorated with a short sleeve that fans out over his shoulder blade. Shades of black display what he stands for, symbols and sigils mixed with personal references to his life and the people who mean the world to him. He only now realizes she has been studying the piece of art forever edged in his skin, while she was listening to his heart.

When Zoë is sure the pulmonic valve of Dean’s heart sounds normal as well, she slides the bell of her stethoscope to listen for the heart sounds on the right, but when the hunter flinches under her touch, her eyes dart up at his. “That hurts?” “A bit. It’s fine,” he claims, shifting somewhat on the edge of the bed. “Sure I didn’t break a rib?” she ponders, feeling the tender area in the center of his chest, where the first stage of a bruise is surfacing. “I worked your chest pretty hard.”

Dean looks up at her, perplexed, as if it only now dawns on him what lengths Zoë went to save his life. She performed CPR on him, used all her capabilities to bring him back from the infinite darkness that was about to swallow him whole. Capabilities Sam doesn’t have, simply because he’s not trained to give medical aid. It hits Dean like lightning; if she hadn’t been there, he would have died.

“Zo?” The huntress shifts her attention from the sound of the mitral valve opening and closing, to her patient’s genuine eyes. The twenty-six year old tough guy seems that much younger all of a sudden, not sure how to get across what he wants to say. “You - uh... If it wasn’t for you, I… y’know--” “Don’t mention it.”

Dean carefully glances up at her, meeting a small smile. A silent huff leaves his lips when he realizes she just returned his own words to him. Words he spoke in response to the huntress, when she tried to express gratitude for his rescue, earlier this afternoon. “Well then, guess we’re square,” he comments. “Too bad I wasn’t conscious for the mouth-to-mouth action.” “Ah, there he is. I was wondering when you were gonna feel good enough to start behaving like a jackass,” Zoë sniggers. “Your heart sounds fine, I’m gonna check your lungs now. Take slow breaths, okay?”

With an amused smile on his lips, Dean does as told. Concentrating, the woman who would have aced med school listens to his respiration, using the stethoscope as an amplifier. Like she was taught, she starts at the left upper zone, then the right, comparing the two sides, before she moves down. “Can you inhale a little deeper for me?” she requests.

The hunter pulls in a big breath through his mouth, the action igniting a fire in his chest, similar to the time when he was a teenager, when he had a neglected cold that turned into something worse. He tries to fight another hacking fit, but loses the battle, quickly turning his head away from Zoë and coughs violently. When he settles, she continues the examination. “Pain?” she wonders, although she has an idea what the answer might be. “Burns,” he manages to say, his voice hoarse. “Try again, take it easy this time,” Zoë encourages.

After moving the diaphragm across her patient’s bare chest, she removes the medical instrument and takes a seat on the side of the bed as well, placing the bell on his back now. Staring at nothing in particular, she lets the sense of hearing take over completely. Brown eyes slightly shift from left to right, narrowing at a certain point. “What?” Dean wonders, noticing a hint of discontent in her expression. “Your lung sounds are a little faint; you still got some fluid in there,” the huntress explains, putting her stethoscope away. “It should clear by itself, your blood will absorb it, but if that cough gets worse, you're gonna need to see a real doctor.” “You seem like a real doc to me,” he shrugs, covering the compliment by clearing his throat. “Haven’t had a check up in years.”

Zoë casts her gaze down, appreciating the words, but unable to thank him for it. “Let’s keep it that way. Take these.” She takes a small plastic bottle from her briefcase, a prescription on the side. “With the swamp water you took in, you’re likely to develop pneumonia without antibiotics. Take two tonight. The coming days, one in the morning, one in the evening, never on an empty stomach, until the bottle is empty, alright? If it hurts, you can take Ibuprofen, but don’t go over the maximum dosage. You want me to pack you some?”

Somewhat stunned, Dean nods and takes the bottle between his index finger and his thumb. The doctor role Zoë is fulfilling right now, brings out an attentive and empathetic side of her, which he hasn’t seen yet to this extent. His injuries aren’t downgraded, he’s not told to man up and keep going, like his father so oftenly does when he suffered an injury on a hunt. He’s not used to this kind of care, but he values it.

“Thanks.”

The simple word that falls from his lips in a whisper has Zoë shift her eyes to him in surprise. She clearly wasn’t expecting a ‘thank you’, but doesn’t call him out on the sentiment. Her smile grows a little wider and for the first time since their reunion, Dean sees the innocent Californian surf girl he remembered from back in the days.

The huntress takes out the thermometer one last time, inserting it in his ear. He doesn’t move away this time, but slightly leans into her. The device beeps and she pulls it back. “96.8; you’re getting there. If you want you can take a shower now, just not too hot.” She removes the tip and gets up, throwing it in the trash can. “You’re all set.” “Alright,” he says, putting the water bottle aside and picking up a towel and his clothes.

He retreats to the bathroom and appreciates the spacious rain shower, and returns to the main suite, dressed in a warm hoody and dry jeans. His brother is back as well. “Ready to hit the road?” Dean nods, putting on his leather coat and straightening the collar. “Let’s go.”

The three hunters check out and walk out towards the parking lot five minutes later. The Impala is parked in front of the building across from Linwood Cemetery, the black paint job shimmering beautifully in the pale moonlight. Zoë approaches her bike, carrying a saddle bag over her shoulder and her helmet in the other hand, as the boys walk over to their car. Instinctively, Dean moves around to the left side of the car, but Zoë stops him. “You’re not driving,” she decides, as if it’s her call to make. “Unless you wanna be a road hazard.” “Oh, c’mon,” the owner of the car complains, redirecting a glare from the woman in their company to Sam, who is waiting for the keys with a smirk. After rolling his eyes, he tosses his brother the keys and drags his feet to the passenger side. “Sleep upright for a night or two,” the med student suggests. “Why the hell would I do that?” Dean returns, puzzled. “Because I reckon you don’t want to suffocate during the night.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s called secondary drowning, asshat.” Dean scoffs. “That’s a thing?” Zoë chuckles at his obliviousness. “That’s a thing.” “Noted,” Dean says, shoving down his warm jacket coat.

“You made your deadline,” Sam reminds her, leaning his arms on the hardtop while looking over as she checks the time. “Not yet, but at least I’ll make it in time for the big show,” she smiles faintly. “What about you two? Texas?” “Yep, Waco,” Sam specifies. Zoë nods. The Winchesters can tell from her reaction that she knows the place. “When you’re in town, stop by at Honeybee Ham & Deli. I tell ya, their ham and turkey is awesome,” Zoë recommends. Dean smiles happy as he pictures the plate full of juicy meat. “Will do.” “What about you?” the younger sibling wonders. Zoë climbs in the saddle of her Road King, which faces the two men. She doesn’t put her helmet on just yet, though. Her small smile disappears when she’s confronted with what’s coming. “I’m going up north,” she answers vaguely.

A silence follows and Dean glances at Sam over the top of his car. They can both sense that something’s up. “If you need a hand--” Sam starts carefully. “No, I don’t. Really guys, you need to stay out of this one. It’s not your fight,” Zoë says, stern. “Complicated case?” Dean comments. “It’s just something I need to take care of. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the help you gave me here, but this is personal business,” she answers, looking from one to the other. “Whatever you do, don’t follow me.” “We have our own personal business to take care of,” Sam assures. “Your Dad?” the huntress assumes. “We want to find him. He’s probably after that thing that killed Mom and Jess by himself,” Sam states, determined.

For a moment Dean observes his brother, aware of the strong mindedness in his voice. He could fight him. Hell, he can start an argument with him right now, but what would it matter? Sam isn’t easily convinced otherwise, not when it comes to this. He wants to find Dad and kill whatever brought so much misery upon them so desperately, that it’s becoming an obsession. When he returns his gaze Zoë, he’s caught off guard by her, who stares directly at him. She has been reading him all this time. “Seems like you do have your own personal business to take care off,” she states wisely, hanging her helmet on the handlebar.

“Sure you can ride?” Dean checks with her. Zoë glances at him, but he isn’t mocking her, the oldest Winchester son actually has a solid point. She doesn’t feel great at all. Her head is still throbbing from the blow she took during her physical fight with Laura; she probably suffered a mild concussion. A 520 mile bike ride isn’t going to improve the ache in her bones either. She would love to go back into the Hampton Inn and get some sleep, which she normally does after an exhausting hunt. This time things are different, there’s just too little time. “I don’t have much of a choice,” she sighs. “I should get going.” “Be careful,” Sam offers. Zoë only responds with a smile and looks down at her biker boots. It’s funny, all this time she has been fighting the Winchester boys, but now that she’s about to leave, she’s lingering.

“I hope you’ll find John,” she says out of the blue. Surprised, the brothers take her in. Where did that come from? The huntress notices the surprise on their faces, because she continues to explain herself. “He’s your father. I know he can be a pain, but he’s family. Treasure that as long as you can.”

Sam watches Dean nod agreeing, and he too realizes that she’s right. The last time he saw his father, they had a huge argument. Ever since, he has been afraid that he might never see his dad again, that he will never get the chance to say he’s sorry. That’s what he is, because he regrets yelling at him, he regrets picking a fight. He knows he’s not the only one to blame, but he bailed on both his brother and his father and chose his own path. He stands by that decision still, but he does realize how much his actions hurt them. The youngest Winchester is done fighting his Dad, he just wants to make sure he’s alright. Zoë knows loss. She lost her father in an unforgivable and certainly unforgettable manner. It’s that fact that makes both Dean and Sam understand that these wise words are coming straight from the heart.

The huntress looks at them with a calm expression on her face, a satisfied one, and yet a glint of sadness is noticeable in her eyes. She doesn’t expect to see them ever again. Not wanting to wait until the goodbye becomes sentimental, Zoë kicks the ignition, the characteristic Harley Davidson rumbling loud in the night. Before she can put on her helmet, Dean calls out for her. “See you around.”

As he watches her response, Zoë keeps quiet. Not likely, she realizes, not pronouncing the words out loud. She gives them a last nod, pulls the helmet over her head, turns the throttle, and with a loud roar her Harley hits the highway. The brothers watch the single red taillight get smaller, then she disappears out of sight. Silently, they stare at the road ahead, both thinking about what she just said. Sam is the first one to reply to it.

“Did she just… say goodbye?” he checks, making sure he didn’t just interpret her words wrong. Dean doesn’t respond and forks his fingers together while leaning his forearms on top of the car. Pondering, he stares down the street. “As in… for good?” Sam adds.

He glances at his older sibling, who opens his car door. Sam takes his example and settles in the driver’s seat. Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac sounds from the speakers as soon as the younger Winchester turns the key in the ignition. “Are we going after her?” Sam wants to know, before he drives off. “No,” Dean responds, annoyed by the fact that for a split second, he was thinking about it himself. “She’s a big girl, Sam. She can take care of herself.” “That’s what you said last time,” his sibling bounces back. “That was just bad luck. It’s not our job to protect fellow hunters, it’s our job to protect innocents,” Dean brings to mind. “If Zoë's in trouble, she's innocent.” “Believe me, Sam. I believe Zoë is everything but innocent,” the oldest of the two disagrees.

“I don't know, man. I think she’s after something big, or something big is after her,” Sam sighs, staring through the windshield in the direction where Zoë vanished just moments ago. “So she’s onto a big fish,” Dean returns nonchalantly. “If she needs our help, she’ll call.” The driver scoffs. “No, she won’t.” Dean glances aside and observes his brother for a moment, confused by his brother’s motives. “I thought you were so determined to find Dad?” “I am,” Same confirms. “Then why the fuck do you care so much for some girl? We have better things to do. There’s a werewolf on the loose last time we checked and I don’t see why we should be bothering ourselves tracking down a hunter who’s fine on her own and is not keen on our company,” Dean rambles annoyed, after which he quotes her. ‘Whatever you do, do not follow me’. Her words, dude.”

Sam gives in with a huff; maybe he’s right. Zoë made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want them on her tail. Maybe they should just let her be. But deep inside he feels it eating at him. His gut tells him that something bad is going to happen to her. Contemplating on the choice, he stares ahead. “Seriously, if you want me to believe that you don’t have a major crush on her, you’ll have to do better than this.” Dean’s brows are raised as he looks aside.

His younger brother glares at him, but decides not to respond. Dean is making fun of it, but he’s not sure himself how he feels about Zoë. She’s such a mysterious girl, with a dark sense of humor and a peculiar personality. She’s fierce, rapid on the counter, sarcastic, confident, smart. An amazing huntress with a big heart, even though she might act like she couldn’t care less. He can’t help but to be curious about her. Why? He can’t put his finger on it. There’s a connection between them, if they like it or not.

Sam decides to change the subject, determining their new destination. “So? Waco then?” “Waco it is,” Dean agrees. Sam turns the Impala around, when they hear a strange clunk coming from the back of the car as he drives over a speed bump while exiting the parking lot of the Hampton Inn. Uh-oh, he realizes, assuming his brother heard it too. “What is that?” Dean says out loud, looking over his shoulder. “Did you close the trunk? Stop the car.”

Sam does as told and in the middle of the exit, Dean gets out. Sam stares in his back mirror, waiting for the inevitable. He already noticed the damage when loading up the car, but didn’t have the courage to tell the person who loves the Impala so dearly. That, and he wanted to give Zoë a head start. When he rolls down the window and pokes his head out, he sees Dean, boiling in rage. “What’s going on?” Sam asks, pretending to be unaware. He gets out and joins his brother, beholding the back of the Impala. The paint of the trunk is scratched, leaving the Chevrolet damaged by the shovel that Zoë used as leverage to break open the trunk. For a moment, Sam just stares at the car without saying a word. Dean, on the other hand, grits his teeth so hard that his brother can hear them grinding. His face looks like a volcano that is about to erupt as he clenches his fists, trying to contain his anger.

“Insulting Baby is one thing, but this -” Dean hisses furiously, “this is unforgivable. I’m gonna kill her, I am so gonna fucking kill her!” “Calm down,” Sam tries to ease him. “Calm down?! She fucked up MY CAR!!!” he shouts as he turns red.

He slams the trunk and pushes it down hard, but it doesn’t lock as it should. Then he strides back to the front and gets in on the passenger side again. Quickly, Sam sits down behind the wheel, not wanting to piss him off even more. Dean is about to detonate; one wrong move, comment or facial expression and he will explode. “Get the fuck going,” the owner of the classic car growls, squeezing the blood out of his hands around his cellphone, tempted to call perpertrator. Sam gulps, surprised that the device doesn’t break in half, and uncomfortably leans back before he hits the gas. The day that Dean got this car from Dad, he learned a very important lesson; if you mess with the Impala, you mess with Dean.

“For the record,” the older Winchester starts off. “This isn’t the last time we will see Sullivan.” “It isn’t?” Sam carefully questions. “Oh, we’ll see her again,” he snaps. “And I’m gonna kick her fine little ass when that time comes.”

Poor Zoë, Sam can’t help but to think. She’s probably laughing that same fine little ass off right at this very moment, as Dean so poetically described it. A part of him hopes they will indeed never run into her again, because she is going to feel his brother’s wrath. What are the odds anyway? America is a big country; she is only one of over 320 million people in this nation. Sam glances ahead into the dark night and grins, because something tells him that their paths will collide again. Maybe even sooner than expected.

Well, that’s it! Episode 2 is wrapped up, now on to the next one.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Supernatural OFC #Supernatural #Dean x OFC #Sam x OFC #dean winchester x ofc #Sam Winchester x ofc #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Zoë Sullivan #STSS #In Bad Waters #1x02 In Bad Waters #Kate Huntington

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