#and the match cut with sam and dean younger and older in the impala

[samwinchestersgf]

guardian angel

requested by: anonymous

request: Could you write something with Gabriel being the guardian angel of Sam and Dean's little sister?

summary: sam and dean’s younger sister is a klutz. after cracking under the pressure of living up to her brothers’ reputation, gabriel, her guardian archangel, makes her feel better.

warnings: mild language. angst. gabriel being a turd bucket, and then being a sweetheart. fluff.

i sit around the big map table in the bunker with sam and dean. with my arms crossed, i lean back in my chair. damn, they’re insufferable at times, but, this time is worse than ever before.

“what do you mean i can’t come on the hunt with you?” i ask, outraged.

“i mean exactly what i said, y/n.” dean’s voice raises, daring me to top it.

i match his volume. “why can’t i come?!”

“because i said so, okay?” he gets up to his feet. he’s louder than me, and bigger than me. he always has been.

“this is some misogynistic bullshit.” i bring my tone up the slightest.

this really pisses him off. “i am not a misogynist for wanting to keep my little sister safe. sorry, that’s not how it works.”

“i’d be safe on the hunt!” i look over at sam for back up. he’s always been the more reasonable one.

he shrugs his shoulders and mouths the word, ‘sorry.’

“when have i ever not been safe on a hunt?!” i retry my approach.

“just about every damn time!” his voice booms through the bunker, ricocheting off the walls.

“i’ve never gotten hurt!” i look back over to sam, my eyes begging him to stand up for me.

“maybe you’ve never gotten that hurt... but you are super clumsy.” his voice is low and quiet compared to mine and dean’s.

“see, i’ve never gotten that hurt, just like, scratches and stuff.” i give him a smug look.

“you fall around so much, there’s a chance that this time could be the time that you get seriously hurt.” sam’s sympathetic with me, trying to get me to calm down.

sam has always been the level-headed sibling. he’s always the mediator. even when we were younger, the only person he’d argue with was dad, and he didn’t get the balls to do that until he was older. still, he’s 6 years older than me and has made it his personal duty to protect me. he enjoys playing the role that dean always got to play when we were little.

dean and i, though, are always at each other’s throats. it not that we don’t get along, because we do, but we both inherited our father’s stubbornness, whereas sam was blessed with mary’s mediating abilities. dean’s a whole decade older than me, so he thinks he’s all tough.

“i can take care of myself,” i reroute the conversation. i find myself saying that line a lot.

“when dad died, he made it my responsibility to take care of you and i’m not gonna let you go out and get hurt.” dean spits.

when dean brings up dad, out of respect, he knows that i’ll do what he says. that’s why he doesn’t bring him up very often. i lean backwards in my chair quickly, but too harshly. the chair goes flying down to the ground.

i close my eyes and prepare for impact, but it never comes. i feel myself being pushed up and back to the chair’s neutral position. my brothers look confused, and so do i.

“did you...?” my voice trails off, looking at dean.

“my reflexes are quick, but not that quick.” he shakes his head. “but, see? you’re clumsy.”

“dean, can i at least pr-“

“you’re not coming. i’m serious.” he says sternly.

“sam?” i turn to him, pleading with my eyes.

“sorry, y/n.”

i huff and push my hair away from the table, standing up. “fine. i’ll go to my room and be useless.”

as i whip around, my elbow bumps into the chair, which goes tumbling to the ground, charting course to land right on my feet. but, i’m yanked backwards, away from the chair.

“ow!” i yelp at the grip on my waist. “dean!”

“that’s wasn’t me.” he throws his hands up.

“seriously? i’m not stupid.” i gripe.

“it really wasn’t him.” sam confirms.

irked, i shrug it off. “whatever.”

i walk to my room and flop on the bed. what a lousy day. apparently i’m too clumsy for anything. frustration bubbles up in me. when are they gonna stop treating me like a little kid? i’m 25 years old.

i grip my pillow in my hands. stupid brothers. stupid hunting monsters. stupid clumsy feet. stupid everything. it’s not fun being the weakest link.

i groan and chuck my pillow across the room, but it stops midair. i blink, “what the fuck.”

i grab the gun from my bed side table, and when i turn back around, the pillow is gone. i stand up at the foot of my bed, holding the gun ready. something weird is going on.

something that feels a lot like my pillow smacks me in the back of the head. i turn around and point the gun at the wall. there’s nothing there. i let out a deep, shaky breath.

suddenly, my pillow is being held to my face from someone behind me. i let out a scream, and the pillow immediately falls to the ground. i turn around and with a sweep of my feet, knock the intruder to the ground. i stomp on their leg and cock my gun, pointing it at their head.

“who the hell- gabriel?”

footsteps pound down the hallway. it’s no doubt sam and dean, alerted by my scream. i look at him, absolutely confused.

“call off your attack dogs and then we’ll talk.” he says before disappearing again.

sam and dean burst through the door. dean is the first to speak, “what happened?!”

“there was a snake!” i lie. “he slithered back into the wall.”

“you scared us, y/n.” sam relaxed.

“well, the snake scared me.” i half-apologize.

they roll their eyes and leave. i shut the door behind them and cross my arms at gabriel, who has reappeared, but this time on his feet.

“why did you try to suffocate me with my pillow?” i whisper.

“just having some fun, darlin.” he smiles.

i’m not amused. “why are you here?”

“well, if you haven’t noticed, you’re a little clumsy.” he teases.

“if you’re just gonna bash me for it, you can leave.” i warn, aggravated.

“that’s not why i’m here. although, it is super funny.” he smirks.

“i will scream.”

“fine, fine. i’m your guardian angel, or whatever.” gabriel admits.

“my what?” i raise an eyebrow.

“all those times you should’ve gotten hurt out there, but didn’t? that was me.” he comes clean.

“so, you’re the prick that bruised my waist from grabbing me so hard.” i roll my eyes.

“i’m the prick that stopped you from breaking your toe.” he sasses. “let see the bruises.”

“gabriel, no-“

“seriously, let me see. i’m not supposed to let you get hurt.” he demands.

“it’s just some bruises.” i counter.

“that’s still an injury.” he points out.

i reluctantly lift my shirt up to my ribcage and hold it there, allowing him to look at the purple bruises he left. it’s an awkward moment, for sure. his eyes linger there for what seems like forever. i clear my throat, and he snaps out of it and walks toward me.

i let my shirt drop to it’s neutral position and back up, “what are you doing?”

“healing you.” he states.

“gabriel, it’s literally just a few bruises.” i screw up my face.

“it’s bruised down to the bone.” he informs me.

“what the hell?!” i lift my shirt up slightly and look at the bruises again. “all you did was grab me!”

“i’m an archangel, sweetie. we’re rough.” he winks.

“ew.” i throw my pillow at him.

“seriously, c’mere.” he beckons me toward him.

i roll my eyes and walk toward him, holding my shirt up. his large hands grip my waist, sending jolts of butterflies through my stomach. light radiates from his fingertips, and when he pulls away, the bruises are gone.

i gingerly press on my side, and there’s no pain at all. i look back up at gabriel, who is inches away from me. my face flushes red and i clear my throat, taking a step back.

“thank you.” i swallow.

“you’re welcome.” he nods.

dean’s shouts echo through the bunker. “we’re leaving now! remember to stay inside and call jody is you need anything.”

“gabriel?” i smirk.

“what?”

“you might have to protect me from my brother’s fists.” i grin.

“what? kid, don’t make my job harder. y/n-“

i take off towards the garage, taking a short cut, and hop in one of our spare cars. it’s a pickup truck. i sink low into the seat so the boys won’t see me. i hear them as they walk into the garage.

“i kind of feel bad, dean.” i hear sam say as they approach their car. “she really wanted to come.”

“so? she’ll be fine.” he shrugs.

“she’s upset.” sam reasons.

“and she’ll get over it. should we take the truck?” he asks. my body tenses up. oh god, please don’t take the truck.

“it’s too cramped in there.” sam shakes his head.

“you’re right.”

the door to the impala closes and i watch as they drive off. gabriel pops into the passenger’s seat beside me.

“this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. they’re gonna kill you.” he tells me.

“good thing i have a guardian angel.” i smile cheesily.

i speed off after them and follow them through the twisting roads. i wonder if they’re suspicious of me. they probably are. they’ve probably already recognized the car.

my phone rings, making me jump. i pick up. “hello?”

“is everything okay at home?” sam’s voice asks through the phone.

“yep. hey, where you guys even going?” i ask.

he sighs, “a vampire hunt. it’s not too far, but stay home. we should be back soon.”

“fine. bye, sam.” i hang up the phone. “ready to watch me kill some bloodsuckers, gabe?”

“y/n, you should go home.” he leans back in the seat.

“if you say that again i’ll make your job even harder by crashing the car.” i joke.

he scoffs. “seriously, go home.”

“listen, i don’t even need a guardian angel in the first place, much less another person bossing me around.” my tone becomes serious.

“you do need a guardian angel.” he rolls his eyes. “you’d be dead by now without me.”

“bullshit. i don’t need- or want a guardian angel. so, go away.” i huff.

“y/n, c’mon-“

“go away and stop guarding me, gabriel.” i demand.

he sighs. “fine.”

he disappears and i slam on my steering wheel. i watch as sam and dean pull into a warehouse. i wait until they walk into the building to park and get out. i walk up behind them and tap them on the shoulder with a shit-eating grin on my face.

“y/n, what the hell?” dean whisper shouts. “get out!”

“i’m here to help, there’s no reason in sending me home now.” i smile.

“i’m killing you when we get home.” he groans as vampires come running towards us.

i take my machete and start slinging, one by one demolishing the nest by cutting their heads off. i get carried away. i’m doing really good!

a pair of fangs plunge into my neck and start sucking. a sharp pain coarses through my body. i scream and writhe under their touch. i feel the blood flowing out of my neck and into their mouth, but i’m utterly helpless.

i’m pushed to the ground, away from the vampire. i look up and watch as gabriel decapitates him. he looks down at me, his face saying all i need to know. if he were to speak right now, he would say- “i told you so.”

he quickly leans down and presses two fingers to my neck, healing my injury, and then vanishes into thin air. sam and dean come running over to my side.

“are you okay?” sam asks.

“did it hurt you?” his voice is threatening.

“no, i killed him.” i lie. “i just fell.”

dean is furious with me, so he drives home alone, while sam accompanies me in the truck. after a few minutes of driving, he turns to me with a smile on his face.

“you faired pretty well.” he’s full of pride.

i know i really didn’t, and i’d probably be dead if it weren’t for gabriel. “i know.”

back at the bunker, i sit on my bed, hugging mh pillow. i was raised by one of the best hunters ever, and i suck at hunting. i’ve had every resource i could imagine to get better, and all the experience i could have, and i still suck.

i cry. the hot tears stream down my face. i’m really not good at anything, am i? i’m the worst winchester. i can’t do anything. i need a guardian angel to save my life because i can’t even handle myself with a dumb vampires nest. sam and dean were right; gabriel was right; everyone was right about me.

the bed dips a little in the corner. i look up and see gabriel sitting there, watching me. i sniff and wipe the tears away, trying (and failing) to cover up the fact that i’m upset.

“you’ve gotten stop surprising me like that.” i force a laugh.

“i’m always watching, y/n. i know you’re crying.” he’s sympathetic, but i don’t want him to be.

i deflect. “always watching? that’s creepy.”

“a little, but enjoy the show.” he laughs.

“ew, gabe.” i crinkle up my nose.

“why are you crying?” he asks, getting back on topic.

“do we really have to talk about this?” i groan.

“well, i am your guardian angel.” he shrugs.

“i’m not hurt.”

he adds, “physically.”

“it’s a story for another time,” i sniff.

“no, no. now.” he corrects.

i roll my eyes and hesitate. “i’m the worst winchester.”

“you’re all pretty insufferable, and stubborn.” he waves a dismissive hand.

“gee, thanks, but, thats not what i mean.” i press my lips into a grimace. “i can’t hunt. i need a stupid guardian angel to watch over me so i don’t die. i’m not good at anything.”

“i bet you’re good at something.” he reasons.

“nope.” i shake my head.

“hm...” his eyes flicker down to my mouth. my breath hitches.

he leans in, before i could even protest (if i wanted to), and kisses me. gabriel, the archangel, kisses me. my hands work through his hair momentarily before he pulls away.

he breaths, “you’re good at that.”

my face flushes red. maybe i do need a guardian angel.

[a-winchester-fairytale]

Someone You Loved

Summary: Loving someone isn’t always enough, but feeling loved is everything

Warnings: lots of angst, Angry/Hurt Dean 

A/N: Written for @atc74​​ Collaboration Contest.  Based on the song Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi.  This song made me think of Dean instantly, but hearing the title line hurt deep and I knew right then I had to write it.  I hope you like how it turned out.

Thank you for reading, and please feel free to let me know what you think.  I love the feedback <3

“You’re telling me, in the entire country, there isn’t one single monster or demon to hunt?”  Dean practically shouted in disbelief.  Sam looked up at him with his patented bitch face before rolling his eyes.  “Come on Sammy.  I need a case.”

“No, Dean.  You need to rest.  You have been going nonstop for a week and if you keep going like this, you are going to burn yourself out.”  Sam reminded him.  Dean scoffed.

“I’m fine.”  He replied dismissively.

“Dean…”

“I said I’m fine.” Dean repeated with more force.

“Fine.”  Sam muttered, throwing up his hands in surrender.  Dean glared at him, shaking his head as he turned and walked toward the liquor cabinet.

Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw you, leaning against the doorway to the hall with your arms crossed and a look of heartbreak on your face.  You had hoped that spending a few days on a hunt and releasing some of his anger would mellow things between the two of you.

“What’s gotten into you?” You challenged, stepping out into the room with them.  His eyes squinted and he shook his head, turning away from you instead of answering. Angrily, you reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, spinning him back around to face you.  “Hey! Talk to me damn it.” You insisted.

Sam raised an eyebrow at the scene unfolding in front of him.  It was intensely quiet for a moment, neither of you ready to budge and Sam couldn’t help but remember all the times Dean had stared at him and John in the same type of staring death match.  How helpless he must have felt at the time.

Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek, mulling over his choices.  He wanted to stay angry, to fight with you or storm out of the room, but instead his shoulders sank and he leaned back against the edge of the table behind him.

“I’m going to go get that…um” Sam stumbled, rising from his chair as soon as he saw that no one was going to come to blows.  “that … other book from my room.”  He threw the words out, and with a quick glance between the two of you, made his exit down the hallway.

You released Dean’s jacket, shifting your weight impatiently.

“I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”  He admitted.

“Dean….I will always love you.”  you told him, reaching out for him, but he flinched and you let your hand fall back to your side.  “It was never about not being able to love you.”

“Then what is it about?” 

“It’s about…”  You paused, sighing and looking for the right words to explain it to him.  “For years, I watched as you lost yourself in alcohol, hunting, and any girl that was cute enough to catch your eye.  It was hard, and it hurt, but we were only friends and I thought I could live with it. Then, for a few months, I got to know what it was like to turn to you when I needed someone.  I thought it would be enough, but….”

“What do you want from me? You want a house with 2 kids and a golden retriever in the backyard?  A white picket fence maybe?  Two people sitting on the front porch together on Sunday afternoons?”  He waved his hand in the air at the visual he created, his frustration returning.  He scoffed, adding, “That ain’t me.  It was never meant to be my life.”

It had taken him years to let go of that picture, of the apple pie life he wanted so much when he was younger.  Even now, the words still stung and you could see it in his eyes.

“I know that you believe that.”  You answered, biting back the tears.

“You know what?  I’m sorry this life isn’t good enough for you – that I’m not good enough for you.”  He snapped.

And there it was, the reflection of what he heard when you told him you wanted more.  He never thought he could do better, or that he deserved it.  What he thought was that he wasn’t enough.  You felt a pain in your chest as he shook his head and started to walk away from you.

“Dean, I…”  You started, but a swift wave of his hand behind him cut you off.

“Where are you going now?” Sam called out after him from the bottom of the stairs as he walked back into the war room.

“The bar.”  Dean replied, not looking back.  

Sam sighed as the bunker door closed behind his older brother.  He watched as you rolled your eyes and spun around, heading back down the hall without saying a word.

By the time Dean reached the bar, he felt even more restless and he cursed under his breath that there didn’t seem to be anything to hunt.  

“This may be the first time I’ve actually wanted to find a vamp at the bar.”  He muttered under his breath.  Instead, he swallowed down his anger with a few glasses of whiskey, momentarily forgetting that there was only pain at the bottom of that bottle until it was too late.

The drunker he became, the more he simply wanted a distraction.  He wanted a way to forget about all of the ways he had failed.  More than that, he wanted to prove that he was okay without you.  

His eyes followed the dark haired waitress as she wandered around the room, serving patrons.  Before long she noticed and found herself gravitating toward him as the night slowed down.  She was mesmerized by his green eyes and full lips.

She was cute and funny and Dean enjoyed making her laugh with lame jokes.  He liked the way she threw her whole body into it.  When she made a move to kiss him, he kissed her back, his hands sliding around her waist.  His held her in his arms like he was trying to hold himself together.  

She was exactly the kind of woman he gone to the bar to find.  But no matter what she did, she wasn’t you. So, he spent most of the night pouring another shot of whiskey and throwing it down his throat to try and drown the ache that filled his chest.  

You woke up from a nightmare, reaching out next to you instinctively, but when your hand touched only an empty pillow you remembered that you were laying there alone.  The silence in the bunker felt deafening and you couldn’t escape the thoughts that ran through your mind, preventing you from returning to sleep.  Frustrated, you climbed out of bed and made you way toward the kitchen.  

“Everything okay?” Sam’s voice came from behind you and you jumped, turning to see him in the library with a table full of books in front of him.  “Sorry.” He added when he realized he had startled you.

“I didn’t see you there. I, uh, just woke up and wanted some water.”  You lied, gesturing to the kitchen.  “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”  He replied.  Hearing him say that made you feel less vulnerable in admitting it yourself.

“Me either.”  You quietly corrected.

“I kind of figured.” He said, sympathetically.  “Does that have anything to do with my brother?”

“You knew?  Did Dean tell you?”

“Not exactly.  He hasn’t really been in a chatty mood, but it’s hard not to notice what’s been going on between you two.”  Sam admitted.  You nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

“Do you remember that hunt in Mississippi a few months ago?”  You asked.  Sam pressed his lips tightly together and nodded, waiting for you to continue.  “I think the fact that we couldn’t save all of those families kind of got to me.  I started having nightmares again, like I did when my parents died.  I ended up walking out for some fresh air and Dean was sitting in the impala outside of the motel.”

“I knew that case bothered him more than he was letting on.”  Sam muttered, shaking his head.

“He let me sit in the car with him and we talked about everything.  When I admitted to him that I was dreaming about what happened to my parents again, and that’s why I had gone out there, he told me about how he used to dream about your mom, and that he sometimes still does.”  You explained.

“He let his guard down with you.”  Sam observed.

“I guess we both did.” You replied with a shrug.  “Anyway, it changed things between us and ever since then….well, you get the idea.” You looked away from his sympathetic eyes as your words faded, failing to hide the hurt in your own.

“Come here.”  Sam said, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet.  He wrapped his arms tightly around you and held you tenderly.  “I’m not my brother, but if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here.”

“Thank you, Sam.”  You whispered against his chest as you closed your eyes for a moment.  “I guess I just spent so long wanting to know what it felt like to have someone really care about me, and now….”

“I care about you, and no matter what happened between you and Dean, I can promise you that he does too.” Sam added, stepping back so he could look you in the eyes for emphasis.

“I wish I could believe that.”  You replied, sadly.  “Truth is, I was getting really used to that feeling.”

You could see his shoulders sink a little at your words, and he squeezed your hand gently.  You took a deep breath and smiled, determined not to break.

“I just feel like I had the rug pulled out from under me right now, but I’ll be okay.”  You promised, although in your heart you weren’t completely sure if you would be.  

You forced a smile and stepped backwards before turning to head back to your room.  Sam’s words stopped you as soon as you reached the hall.

“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

“I think I should.” You answered, without turning to look at him.  “It just doesn’t feel right to stay here, so I’ll pack up and head out tomorrow.”

Two Years Later:

Sam tried everything to direct Dean anywhere other than the small burger joint in downtown.  They had almost made it, checking in with the family one last time before heading home from a hunt.  Then the victim’s husband said they had the best apple pie in the state and Sam head fell down to his chest.  He knew Dean wouldn’t be able to resist.

“Dean, Sam.  I didn’t know you were here.”  You said, your husband standing at your side and holding your daughter in his arms.  

Sam looked at his brother, but Dean didn’t say a word.  After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, Sam stepped toward you.

“It’s good to see you Y/N.” He said, pulling you into a welcome hug. He shook hands with your husband who seemed oblivious to the tension lingering in the air.

“Sorry, this is Sam and his brother Dean.  They were friends of mine when I lived in Kansas.”  You explained, never taking your eyes off Dean who remained stoically silent, unmoved from where he stood when he saw you.  You tried to read his expression as Sam explained simply that they were passing through town on business and heading back home.

“We just stopped to grab some dinner for the road.”  Dean finally added, confirming that he had heard every word.  

With that, he turned and walked to the counter as Sam continued to chat with you both.  You never took your eyes away from Dean.  He moved different, not as light as he used to. Even as he paid the cashier and pocketed his change, his shoulders were tense and the smile was forced.  

“I’ll just give you guys a bit to catch up.  I’ll see you inside.”  Your husband said, shaking Sam’s hand once more.

“I’m guessing you didn’t tell them we owned the place?”  You asked, scrunching up your nose as you did.  Sam looked down at the ground and shook his head.

“I guess I should have.” He admitted and you chuckled lightly.

“Sammy!  We got to roll.”  Dean called out, heading straight for the impala with the food bags in his arms.

You heard Sam’s sympathetic sigh as he gave you a tight-lipped smile and let his hand trace lightly down your shoulder.  “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“It’s ok.”  You replied, shaking your head.  As you watched them get into the impala, you could faintly hear the bitter sweet sounds of bickering between them as they shut the doors.  With a brief wave from Sam out the passenger window, they were gone.

“You didn’t have to be like that, Dean.”  Sam scolded. “You could have at least talked to her.”

“There’s nothing to say.” He replied, shrugging but keeping his eyes on the road. 

“You really think I don’t know you keep a picture of the two of you in this car.  I see you sneak it out after a bad hunt or when you don’t think anyone will notice.”  Sam told him.

The sun had almost set and he reached over to flip on the headlights.  As he did, he pulled a small photo from the compartment next to the steering wheel.

“What?  You mean this old thing?  I forgot it was even in here.”  He lied.  Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes and turning to look out of the window.

Dean glanced at the photo in his hand, slightly running his thumb along the edge of it.  Sam was right.  There had been many nights over the last two years that felt longer than others and he would retreat to the solace of his precious impala, take out that photograph, maybe drink a little too much, and close his eyes to remember what it felt like to be in your arms.

“It doesn’t matter anymore anyway.”  He muttered, surprising Sam.  “It was all or nothing, and it looks like she ended up getting it all – everything she wanted that I couldn’t give her.”

“You could have that too, Dean.”  Sam insisted, his brow furrowed.  Dean huffed and rolled his eyes, glaring over at his little brother.  

“What world are you living in, Sam?”  He asked sarcastically.  

“A world where my brother knows exactly who and what he wants, and for the past two years has been too stubborn to admit it.  She loved you, Dean.”  

“Yeah, and for a moment, I got real used to being someone she loved, but I can’t stand by and watch him be that person now.  It’s over Sam.  It was over a long time ago.”

Dean looked down once more at the picture he held in his hand and slowly let it go out the window, the wind catching it.  Even though the impala’s taillights illuminated it’s way as it floated down to the road behind them, Dean never looked back to see it land.

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[mishamccarthy]

Who Wants To Live Forever

What do you get when Dean decides to stay at the ripe age of 14 to avoid dealing with the Mark? Sam’s brotherly care, patience, and lots and lots of bickering. Set just after 10x12. One-shot.

Sam is still shocked sometimes when he glances to the right, and remembers there's a reason Dean's not driving. It was pitch black on an empty dirt road when he did it again. The only sound was the radio turned low enough to match the purr of the Impala, and Sam realized he'd gotten used to a more quiet vehicle. Less random radio blasts. Less jokes. Less glances. It used to be that Dean would pointedly ignore a bitchface from Sam, or meet it with his own grin. But now when Sam found himself looking over for a reassuring gaze, his heart shrank a tad. Dean wasn't just an inch or two downward—when he made the mistake of looking that high, it was just the window. Dean was more like a foot down. Leaning against the door, eyes drawn to the passing brush.

He felt inclined to say something. Anything. They'd left the last abandoned house an hour ago, and the older of the Winchesters���the younger?—had hardly said a word since. It wasn't like him. Dean kept insisting he was fine, and Sam knew better. There hadn't really been a difference attitude-wise at the start, however, so he said little on the subject. It was weird for him. It was definitely weird for Dean. Usually, ignoring these kinds of things let them both get past it. They’d had plenty of time to adjust, and neither of them had done anything to each other. There shouldn't have been such a distance between them.

An inquiry about why Dean seemed so solemn was on the tip of his tongue when he noticed Dean was cradling his right arm, and almost nonchalantly hiding it from view. "Dean," he said, turning the music off subconsciously.

"Yeah?" came the high pitched voice, still directed towards the window. It wasn't incredibly high pitched, but it was too high for Sam's liking. It wasn't Dean.

"What the hell happened to your arm?"

"You saw me thrown into that wall," he answered defensively. What little Sam could see of his brother's face made it seem like Dean had caught himself acting defensively. Abnormal. Normal, now. "It's nothing. I'll pop a Tylenol and be good for tomorrow."

He sighed. That could be a lie, but he really didn't know. It might be better for Dean if he ignored it, or there may truly be a problem Dean wanted to keep hidden—which would inevitably backfire at some point.

-------

When Dean heard a second sigh within the minute, he knew Sam wasn't impressed. Since when had that changed? His younger brother was always griping about something. The question had merit this time, though. His wrist hurt like hell to move and he was pretty sure it was swelling, neither of which could be any good. The funny thing was that Sam managed to complain less than before. Or at least, he seemed to be letting a lot more things go. Dean knew why. He didn't like the rationale, but it would be pretty unreasonable to get angry that someone was agreeing with you all the time, even if they were doing so out of pity.

"Dude, what's up with the arm?" Sam repeated three songs and an ad break later. The fidgeting to his right was almost distracting.

"If you're using this as a break-in to mullet rock discussion, I ain't interested."

"No, Dean—really. Do you want me to pull over?"

"Hell no. Why?"

Sam felt himself sighing again before he could prevent it. He didn't feel like getting into an argument, so his reply took a moment. "You know, bones don't stop growing until you're out of puberty—"

"Sam. C'mon, man, can't I not hear about stunted growth for one day?"

The brothers' eyes met for the first time in a while. Neither said anything for a minute. "... Is it broken?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean directed his gaze back to the outside world, which was moving by slightly slower. "I don't think so. I'm fine."

"You're fourteen, and y—"

"No, I'm not." The words came out decisively, as if a lot of time had been reserved for thinking about it. Yet Sam heard it no differently from a typical it's-not-a-faze tone.

"Yes, you are, Dean. You chose to stay young so that you'd lose the Mark of Cain. Your memory might be perfect, but you're more like a two-thousands' kid than an eighties. And you know what? Sometimes, you might not notice, but people think I'm your dad. They give me a hassle about why you're not in school, and all women in a hundred miles ask if I'm single. You—you see waitresses giving you free scoops of ice cream, and all I see is the vamp we're supposed to be tracking eyeing you like candy. I don't know how the hell you think this is a solution, but you're not you. Everything's not just—"

"Rainbows." Dean shifted in his seat so that he was faced towards the front of the Impala. "I know that, but now I'm not half demonic. I'm not about to cause some new apocalypse if I destroy the Mark. It wouldn't be perfect, but everything would be fine if you could just accept that."

"Accept that my brother is too young to go on hunts, drink, or hell, even drive? Accept that if anything—and I mean anything—gets its hands on you, you could be toast in an instant? I can't. I can't do that, Dean."

"I'm not a porcelain doll, Sammy."

"You're damn close. Hell, I know you know this. I… I see you grab beers every other minute. I held off telling you about this case because I didn't want you throwing up the booze before we were out the door. I can't even bring myself to remind you of how bad that is for your health because I need twice as many myself. It's… this will never work."

Dean refused to meet his eye. "I know you don't like it. You didn't like going to hell either, right?"

Hell. The Cage. "What about it?"

"You went there to stop Lucifer. Granted, my reason was far less noble, but I went to Hell so you’d be safe. And this…"

"They're all sacrifices. Always sacrifices." His knuckles on the steering wheel had turned white.

-------

Dusting off and bandaging up was still more awkward than before. Dean had cut his hands many a time, requiring his younger—older, at this point—brother's stitching, but now his hands were fresh and soft. They were also smaller and harder to work with. "Can't you hold still?" he mumbled.

When he looked up from where he knelt, Sam noticed tears on the edge of escape. Dean gave him a glare of confusion and then figured it out and turned his head away.

"You okay?" Scissors, snap, wrap. Everything was piled into a kit on the floor and thrown into a heap with Sam's other stuff.

" 'Course." His tear-filled voice claimed otherwise.

"Dean…"

He snatched his hand away and jumped onto the bed, his back to Sam. The less hormonal Winchester was feeling like an idiot more and more in recent weeks. On one hand, Dean didn't want, nor would he accept, being treated as anything less than the most capable man you've ever seen. On the other hand... all of his knowledge was basically useless if he couldn't put it to use. And he certainly could NOT make use of it in the body of a slim 14-year-old. But Dean didn't see things that way, and Sam was scared he never would. Almost every time they came back from a quick hunt he was hurt, and each time he noticed Dean mentally kicking himself. He didn't want to see that. He didn't want to piss off his brother either—not with the power he could hold over Dean now, physically. It didn’t feel right to get into a fight anymore. But despite his best efforts to make the most reasonable calls, Dean grew more distant every day.

OOOOO

Sam looked up from his laptop the next morning, only to see Dean taking more pills with his coffee. His eyes were slow to move away, and his older—younger?—brother finally caught him staring.

He wondered if Dean would start screaming or something. He had no idea at this point.

Boom. There he was in the opposing chair, at the other end of the cheap wooden table. Dean looked way more worn and sleep-deprived than even a stressed high schooler, but Sam kept his eyes locked on a police report. Anything he said at this point served to make things worse.

"Everything hurts so much more."

Alright, police report be damned. Dean doesn't whine. He certainly doesn't sit down to the table and softly explain what's bothering him.

"I know, I know." His younger—older? Sam's brother raised a hand. "But you're giving me weird looks. I do notice when I'm drawing the chicks' attention for you, dude. Just thought I'd tell you about... this, so you know I'm not trying to overdose or something stupid."

Sam couldn't stop a small chuckle. "Are you sure it's just badly bruised?"

"Yeah. Guess I just felt less pain as I got older."

He flipped his long hair back a bit in relief. "Honestly, I was worried you were going to go emo-teen on me."

"Give it two more years."

[huntertales]

Part Four: Ding Dong The Wicked Witch Is Dead. (Slumber Party S09E04)

Episode Summary: The reader and the boys call in I.T. expert Charlie Bradbury to help track fallen angels with technology found in the Men of Letters bunker. However, they soon discover something more in the form of the one and only Dorothy from Wizard of Oz. Everyone joins forces to take down the Wicked Witch and her evil plans. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader  Word Count: 3,116.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

There were two things you were absolutely certain of; your head was killing you from the second time of being thrown around tonight against your will. And there was no way in hell you were letting some wicked witch control the boys like they were her flying monkeys. You stumbled back up to your feet and grabbed your gun for a precautionary measure if things went south faster than you could handle. You took pride in yourself being a good hunter. But even you knew this fight was rigged against your favor. The brothers had a significant amount of strength and height compared to you if you were to go up against both of them at the same time.

Charlie was still pinned against the broken window with Dean keeping her in place and Dorothy was on the ground, Sam looming over her after he punched the woman when she was distracted and unable to dodge the attack. It was three against two. The odds made it an unfair fight—for the boys, that was. Neither one of the boys knew what was about to hit them. 

“Don’t worry,” Dean reassured the red head about the similar demise that was waiting for the both of you. “You and your friend will join Dorothy right after you watch her die.”

“Sorry. I really don’t think that’s gonna happen.” You grew a smirk when you caught the attention of Sam and Dean, distracting them momentarily from the two women in their grasp. “I’ve dealt with enough crazy for a lifetime, but I draw the line at a wicked witch possessing my boyfriend. Flying monkeys are a bit of an overkill, don’t you think?”

Charlie took the opportunity to do the unthinkable to her best friend in order to get away from him while under the spell of the witch before she could get hurt. She swung her leg up and kicked him in the privates, hard enough to make you wince from how painful it looked. Dean went sinking down to the ground as Charlie escaped and distanced herself from the man. Dorothy took her chance as Sam was focused on the both of you managing to escape from them. She grabbed a long pipe that was leaning against the wall and whacked the younger Winchester right in the face, causing him to stumble to the ground as well, letting her push herself up to her feet.

Dorothy didn’t think for a second when she threw the other ruby red slipper she had been holding over to Charlie, who caught it with ease. “Go! We’ll buy you some time.”

“Be careful!” Charlie shouted before she went running for the staircase before either one of the boys could try and go after her. Right now they were more concerned about the two other women who were about to kick their asses. Your smirk widened as you placed your fists up, egging them on even further to make the first move.

You had been in your fair share of physical fights during your time of hunting, too many to keep track of. You were taught by the very people you were going up against. And went up against monsters with equal or more strength than you had. It didn’t stop you from giving it your all, letting you come out as the victor most of the time. You didn’t think you had personally gone up against one of the boys in a fit of rage that turned physical. Most of the time it was you who had to break up the brawl that broke up between the boys. Now it was your turn to have a little fun.

You had to admit you’d been off your game ever since you stopped doing the trials. Dean had been doing his best to sideline you. It was your chance to redeem yourself and prove that you weren’t weak anymore. You could handle this all on your own.

You managed to shake off every punch Dean landed your way when you couldn’t dodge them. He wasn’t going down without a proper fight. And so were you. You threw a few punches here and there, taking him down from doing anything stupid. You showed no signs of stopping anytime soon when you laughed. “Oh, buddy. I can do—”

You found yourself regretting the words you were about to mock the witch with when Dean roughly grabbed you by the throat and shoved you into the nearest wall. You clawed at his skin in some kind of attempt to break free, but he proved himself more powerful under the woman’s spell. “My body might not be able to kill, Dorothy. But theirs can. And you will be next.” The witch taunted you back, chuckling darkly as you struggled to try and shake off Dean’s tight grip. “You’re weak. No match for me.” 

You found yourself suddenly seeing red at her words. It was a trigger of some sort you didn’t realize you had buried deep inside of you until this very moment when they were spoken out loud. You swing your fist straight up into Dean’s stomach, knocking the air right out of his lungs and making him drop his grip from your neck. You kicked your leg and shoved him backwards with your foot, giving yourself some distance between the both of you. You felt your breathing turning into heavier pants from the anger that was coming over you and planning on lashing out at him. 

“I am not weak.” You seethed at the witch. You found her words cutting you deeper when they were coming from the man you loved. “You have no idea who the hell you’re going up against, you bitch. If it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you’re gonna get!”

Without thinking, you drew back your arm and got ready to give it your all this time, not caring about the physical pain Dean would deal with later on. You’d help ice his wounds and apologize when the time came. You were dead set on letting out your frustrations, not not taking into consideration Charlie broke the spell. You didn’t see the flash of emerald in the boys’ eyes and their deathly expressions change into confused ones. You only realized when you were left with a throbbing fist and hearing Dean’s infamous three words you knew could only come from him. 

“Son of a bitch!” You heard him grunt out. 

You furrowed your brow in absolute confusion from the reaction you weren’t expecting to come out of his mouth. “Dean?”

“What the hell just happened?” Sam asked. He looked between you and Dorothy, inspecting the bruises and bloodied up faces, wondering how you managed to get those wounds. The younger man was quick to figure out the answer when he realized he was holding the demon knife. 

If the spell was broken and the boys were back to their normal selves, it meant Charlie had killed the witch. You and Dorothy shared a glance, mumbling the young woman’s name, half out of happiness at how she managed to save the day. And in fear if she was all right. The four of you headed to the front area of the bunker, cautiously making sure there were no flying monkeys or the wicked witch to stop you if she was somehow still alive by chance. Only you shouldn’t have doubted the red head. You stopped in your tracks when you caught sight of her leaning over the balcony that overlooked the ground floor. She waved the key and smirked at her victory. The woman managed to do it all by herself. 

“Ding dong, bitches.” 

+ + +

Everything was back to the way it rightfully was. The wicked witch was dead. You didn’t need to drop a house on her or throw a bucket of water to kill the bitch. A pair of ruby red slippers was the key to ending it all. Dorothy had the key back to Oz and Charlie got another chance to live out her fantasy of a hunt filled with magic and quests, even if it only lasted for the night. Not to mention the discovery Dean made about the bunker he never knew that right was under his nose. A garage stocked with different sorts of tools at his disposal to fix up the Impala and several classic cars to gawk over. What he was most excited of all was to have Baby near him. You crossed your arms over your chest and smiled in delight at how she looked in here, she fit in perfectly. Like it was meant to be.

“Baby looks good in here, doesn’t she?” Dean marveled at the sight of the Impala. You chuckled at how he was acting and shook your head. “Hey, how come you never told Sam and me about this place?”

“I don’t know. It sort of slipped my mind.” You said, shrugging your shoulders at the proper answer. “And I wanted to keep it a little secret. Just in case you both try to put me in the corner again when it comes to a hunt. Gotta make sure I have a good escape.”

Dean rolled his eyes at your excuse making you laugh once again. You looked over to see Sam and Charlie making their way up the staircase to join the rest of you after she got everything packed up and Crowley was back in lockdown. The redhead nodded for the older Winchester to follow her to the other side of the garage to have a private conversation away from the group. Sam headed over with something in his hands, a book he figured Dorothy might want back.

“Dorothy. I found something in the archives. Pretty sure it belongs to you.” Sam held up a first edition novel of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the very first book her father had written about her. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips at the novel as she reached for it.

“You have no idea how odd it is having a series of books written about you.” Dorothy said. A quiet laugh escaped your mouth from her statement you could relate to a little too much to.

“Actually, we do know, and it is definitely weird.” You said. You and the younger man shared a small smile from the oddness of your life that almost no one could say the same for. You would be the first one to admit having a few dozen books written about you sucked. But you learned a thing or two along the way that made you cherish them. “But you know what? End of the day, it’s our story, so we get to write it.”

Charlie glanced over at the small crowd of three to see they were in a conversation of their own to wonder what her and Dean were discussing. She had been itching to get the man alone since the conversation she had with Dorothy back in Dean’s bedroom.

“So, thanks for the slumber party…” Charlie started off slow, easing her way into the topic she wanted answers. Dean smiled and nodded his head without much thought. He figured this was a conversation that was going to end with a goodbye. But she wasn’t leaving without a serious discussion. “…And bringing me back from the dead.”

Dean tried to give the young woman a confused expression from her accusation, pretending to wonder where she had gotten such an idea from. “Uh, I didn’t.”

“Don’t B.S. a B.S.er.” Charlie pushed for the truth. Dean knew his little white lie wasn’t going to cut it. She could tell from the way his expression changed in a heartbeat. She didn’t know if she should be relieved, or nervous at the consequences she was going to have to face with her new chance at life. “Am I a zombie now? Do I need to eat brains?”

“No, no, no. You’re you. You’re gonna be fine, all right?” Dean tried to reassure the woman that everything was the way it was before she got attacked. He glanced over at you and Sam to see the both of you were still oblivious to the conversation. And he wanted to make sure it stayed that way. “Just keep this between us, okay?”

Charlie rolled her eyes in annoyance from how secretive Dean was being with her. She didn’t know why he was acting like this. But she honored the man’s wishes from the things he had done for her. “All right, but only ‘cause you raised me from the dead, which you’re going to have to explain to me later.”

“All right.” Dean grumbled in defeat.

“Not bad for a bunch of librarians.” Dorothy approached the both of them just in time as the conversation was dropped once and for all. You and Sam followed behind to join the rest of them. “You mind keeping an eye on my bike for me?”

“Yeah. Totally.” You agreed with the woman’s only request. You glanced over your shoulder to take a peek at the motorcycle to see it in all of its glory where it had been collecting dust for almost eighty years. “As long as you don’t mind one of us taking it for a spin once in a while.”

“Deal.” Dorothy said. You smiled at the compromise and crossed your arms over your chest. It was a pleasure to meet the real Dorothy you had read about in the novels. She was strong and smart. Not to mention a Woman of Letters. A rare thing you discovered while poking your nose around the archives. You were happy to be not the only one to be able to hold the title anymore. “Thank you for everything. Now, if you excuse me, I have a rebellion to finish. So, you coming or what?”

The question was directed to Charlie, who suddenly looked like a deer in headlights at the opportunity she thought was too good to be true. “What? With you?” She asked. The grin that spread across her lips and the way her face lit up made you chuckle. “To Oz?”

“Yeah. You said you were looking for adventure. Well, here it is, Red.” Dorothy remembered the conversation she shared with the woman earlier. And she couldn’t have picked a better partner to share the adventure alongside with. “Come help find my damn dog.”

“You have no idea what’s in Oz. I mean, there’s flying monkeys, armies of witches.” Dean thought he was talking the young woman out of going to another world that wasn’t your own. Little did he realize he was pushing for her to take the opportunity. “There’s all kinds of danger.”

“Promise?” She asked, you felt your lips stretching into a smile at the sight of her happiness she couldn’t hide no matter how hard she tried.

“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe quests don’t suck after all. You just need to find the right one. And this is yours.” You found yourself taking back what you had said earlier. There was no denying this was tailor made for the redhead. And who were you to deny her the chance at doing some good? Your quest in life wasn’t what you thought it was. Yours was staying here, hunting and keeping the world safe from monsters. Hers was in Oz. “Go. Get your magic. Just make sure you kick some flying monkey ass for us, Red. You deserve it.”

Charlie quickly pulled you into a hug at your blessings. You wrapped your arms around her and pulled her into a tighter hug. A part of you was going to be always scared if she was safe, but Dorothy was going to make a great partner. And Charlie knew how to kick some ass. You pulled away to give the boys a chance at saying their goodbyes to the woman.

“If you need anything just tape your heels together three times, okay?” Sam gave the woman a hug of his own, making sure to keep the promise of always being here for when she decided to make her return back home.

“Me? What about you crazy kids?” She asked. “You gonna be alright without me?”

“I’ll make sure they don’t get into too much trouble.” You reassured the young woman.

“Take care of our boys, Y/N.” Charlie said. You nodded your head at her request. “And make sure you do the same for yourself.”

Charlie gave the three of you one final smile before looking over at Dorothy. She inhaled a deep breath and turned around with the woman to make their journey into Oz. Dorothy pulled the key out from the inside pocket of her jacket and placed it inside the lock of the doors. You watched as she pushed them open, revealing Oz in all of its glory. You felt your jaw parting open in amazement; you could see Emerald city in the distance and the yellow brick road to guide them. The scenery was gorgeous with its green mountains and miles of endless grass. It was straight out of the novel, better than you could ever imagine.

You felt a smile tug at your lips as Charlie made her first steps into the new world. She was the happiest you had ever seen her. The young woman stopped for a moment to give you and the boys one final smile. Dorothy saluted you as her final goodbye before the two women departed on their way. The doors slowly closed as they made their way down the yellow brick road. Deep down you knew they were going to be more than okay. Dorothy and Charlie made a great duo. They were going to have many adventures of their own. The boys opened up the double doors to make sure the entrance to Oz was closed. All you saw was the tunnel that led to the outside. Nothing else.

“Think she’ll be back?” You asked the boys.

“Of course.” Sam said. You turned your head to look up at the man from what he said next. A smile crept on your lips as Dean sneaked a hand around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. “There’s no place like home.”

In any other situation the words that came out of Sam's mouth would have felt cheesy. But in a way he was right. Home doesn't always have to be a place. Sam learned that from the lifestyle he led. Home can be a person. No matter where your quest took you, you knew you would always feel at home with the boys at your side.

[Next Part]

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[queen-of-deans-booty]

Swan Song: Part Three

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,256

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Dean’s not Dean if he doesn’t make an entrance. You know Michael and Lucifer are already at the cemetery, and to make sure they know you’re coming, he revs his engine and turns up his music. Both archangels are standing a few feet apart as Dean drives up to them. He stops about ten feet away from them and turns off the car.

“Are you ready?” you ask and look at him.

“No,” he sighs but gets out of the car anyways. You get out on your end, and Lucifer grows angry. However, neither angel attacks just yet. “Howdy, boys. Sorry. Are we interrupting something?”

“We need to talk,” you say as you look at Lucifer.

“Y/N, Dean, even for you two, this is a whole new mountain of stupid,” Lucifer smirks.

“We’re not talking to you,” Dean says and advances a few steps. You do the same. “We’re talking to Sam.”

“You're no longer the vessel, Dean. Amara has no business with this fight. You two got no right to be here,” Michael announces.

“Adam, if you're in there somewhere, I am so sorry,” Dean sighs.

“Adam isn’t home right now.”

“Well, then you're next on our list, buttercup,” you give him a bittersweet smile. “But right now, we need five minutes with him.”

“You little maggot. You two are no longer a part of this story!” Michael shouts and starts to advance towards you two.

Your eyes start to glow blue in case you need to use your magic to defend yourself, but Castiel’s voice comes out of nowhere.

“Hey, ass-butt!”

Castiel is standing with your dad, and he has a Molotov in his hands. You assume that it’s doused with holy fire if he’s going to use it on Michael. Without giving his older brother a chance to speak, he throws the concoction at him. Michael bursts into flames, and he screams loudly to match his pain level. He burns up until he’s completely gone. You’re glad he did that, but Lucifer just looks pissed.

“Ass-butt?” Dean asks, and Castiel just shrugs.

“He'll be back—and upset—but you got your five minutes.”

“Castiel. Did you just Molotov my brother with holy fire?” Lucifer glares.

“Uh,” Castiel looks very nervous since Lucifer can do some real damage to him, “no.”

“No one dicks with Michael but me,” Lucifer growls.

Lucifer has no need for his much younger brother, and he raises his right hand and snaps. Castiel explodes in a rain of blood and chunks of meat. You scream, and your first instinct is to go to him, but Dean stops you. He’s already dead, and there isn’t anything you can do. Your dad just looks terrified, and there is no way he can go up against Lucifer alone.

“Sammy, can you hear me?” Dean asks hopefully.

“You know, I tried to be nice for Sammy's sake. But you two,” he walks closer to you and Dean, “are such pains,” he grips yours and Dean’s collars in his hands, “in my ass.”

He throws you two into the windshield of Dean’s car, and it cracks under your weight. Even though you’re not that far from it, the force Lucifer gave is enough to almost break it. He advances towards you two, but your dad does something incredibly stupid. He shoots Lucifer in the back. The archangel turns to look at him, and he shoots him again in the chest.

“No,” you whisper and sit up.

You look between Lucifer and your dad. If what he did to Castiel might happen to your dad, you don’t know what you’ll do. Your dad looks at you and just shrugs since he didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t going to just stand there and watch Lucifer beat you two up. The archangel doesn’t move except to raise his right hand.

“No!” you yell this time. He flicks his wrist, and your dad’s neck snaps. “NO!”

“Yes,” Lucifer grins, and turns back towards you.

Your dad drops to the ground, and seeing his dead weight gives you all the motivation you need. Your eyes shine brighter than they have before and loads of blue energy starts racing from your hands to the middle of your body. You’re shaking at this point, and Dean just watches to see what you will do.

When you got enough energy to blast Lucifer away, you expel the magic to knock Lucifer off his feet. He flies twenty feet away from you, and you slide off the hood of the Impala. Dean can’t get to you even if he tries. The only thing on your mind is the fact that Lucifer killed your dad. He groans and gets up, but there is a smile on his face.

“Is that the best you can do?” he asks, clearly taunting you.

Your magic come out of your hands like whips—long, thin, and very strong. You use both of your hands at the same time and raise them, only to slam them back to your body. The magic whips through the air and catches on his wrists. They circle his limbs tightly, and you yank on the magical whips, and he faceplants into the ground.

“You’re hurting Sam!” Dean yells as he slides off the car.

“No, keep going, Y/N!” Lucifer grins as he gets up.

The only thing on your mind is Lucifer, so you don’t hear Dean when he screams at you to stop. Lucifer gets up and rushes at you with the intent to take you down. Your magic shoots out of your body and creates a forcefield around your entire body to keep Lucifer away from you. He pounds on the forcefield, but it’s holding steady.

You’re using a lot of magic at this point, and Lucifer can see how much it’s affecting you. You’re trying so hard to kill Lucifer that you don’t feel blood dripping out of your nose. Your body can’t handle the amount of magic you're using, and Lucifer knows this. If he can get you to max out your magic, then he can hit two birds with one stone and kill both you and Dean.

He pushes against the forcefield, and his eyes shine bright red. His power, along with the demon blood that Sam drank, it’s enough to overpower you. He gives you one final shove, and you go flying into the side of the Impala. Your head smashes against the window causing it to shatter. Dean runs to help you, but Lucifer grabs at him.

“You know that Sam’s in here,” Lucifer taunts.

He punches Dean in the face as hard as he can, and the older Winchester goes flying next to you. Your vision is blurry, your head is pounding, and your body is just so weak and tired from using all that magic.

“And he’s going to feel the snap of your bones,” the devil continues. He grabs Dean’s collar since he knows you’re no threat to him and punches him with his right hand. “Every single one, and we’re going to take our time.”

Lucifer gives Dean one punch after another, giving Dean no time to react or fight back. You look up to see this happening, and you push away your own problems to help. You drag yourself to your feet and shoot one final blast of magic out of your hand and into Lucifer’s face. It doesn’t do much, but it catches his attention.

He drops Dean to the ground and grabs you, punching you in the face as hard as he can. Your jaw breaks, and blood squirts out of our mouth. You don’t see this ending well for either of you, but you’re not leaving Sam. You can muster up enough energy to cloak you and Dean to get away, but then Sam would be all alone. You know he can see what Lucifer is doing, so you have to stay for him.

Even if it means your death.

Lucifer grabs you and shoves you against the car, then uses his angelic powers to hold you steady. He then grabs Dean and shoves him right next to you. He wants to get you at the same time.

“Sam, it's okay. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you,” Dean mumbles.

His face is swollen and bloody, but he still won’t leave. His right eye is swollen shut, there are cuts all over his face, and his teeth must be broken. You, on the other hand, look better, but you feel like a train wreck due to your magic. Lucifer punches you and Dean at the same time so that your head is forced to the side where Dean is. You stare into his one good eye, but you don’t say anything.

“We’re here for you Sam. We’re not going anywhere,” you pant, and move your head to face Lucifer.

He raises his fist to finish you off, but there is something in his eyes that makes him stop. Something inside the car reflects in his eyes, and you can see his eyes dilating to their normal size. Something inside you tells you that Sam has finally taken over. He stares at the same sport for a long time, and when he’s apparently done, he unclenches his fist. He lets go of you and Dean, and both of you fall to the ground against the Impala.

“It's okay, Dean. It's gonna be okay. I've got him,” Sam pants.

He takes out the Horsemen’s rings from his pocket and throws it to the ground. He chants the same words you did that opens the cage. Much like what happened earlier, a big hole starts to form on the ground that leads straight into the pit. There is nothing left inside of you to stop him because he needs to do this if he wants Lucifer gone.

“Sam!” Michael yells from the sidelines. You and the brothers look at the archangel possessing their half-brother. “It's not gonna end this way! Step back!”

“You're gonna have to make me!” Sam shouts.

“I have to fight my brother, Sam! Here and now! It's my destiny!”

Sam doesn’t care what he’s saying, and he looks at you and Dean who look like hell. He has a choice to make, and it either to give Michael what he wants or to jump into the pit. The look in his eyes says it all, and he closes his eyes to accept his fate. He spreads his arms out wide since he’ll be diving backwards into the cage.

Michael knows what he is going to do, and he lunches forward to stop him. He grabs at Sam’s jacket, but that only throws him off balance. Both men fall into the pit so that there are four people trapped in the cage—Michael, Lucifer, Sam, and Adam. After a few moments, the hole closes in a blinding flash of light. The Horsemen’s rings burn bright in the grass where the hole was previously.

You groan and get up even if your body is telling you to rest. You don’t have enough energy to stand and walk, so you crawl over to where the rings are. Dean follows behind slowly since he can’t believe his brother actually did it. You pick up the rings and hold them in your hand, not sure what to do now. Sam is gone, and you failed.

A shadow falls over you, which means there is someone standing behind you. Who could be out here? Your dad and Castiel are dead, so who could it be? You crane your neck to see Castiel standing there good as new—as if Lucifer never laid a hand on him.

“Castiel, you’re alive?” you say weakly.

Dean can only muster up enough energy to sigh.

“I’m better than that,” he says and touches both yours and Dean’s foreheads.

Just like that, you’re good as new. No more aches and pains, no cuts and bruises, and all of your energy is restored. Dean seems to have the same outcome. You and Dean stand up slowly to make sure you’re okay before you book it to your dad who still lays in the grass.

“Cas, are you God?” Dean asks.

“Daddy?” you say with tears in your eyes.

Your fingers touch his cheek delicately as if you’ll hurt him if you press too hard. He’s ice cold, and you see no signs of life in him. You haven’t had enough time with him, and you curse at yourself for being so harsh with him when you found out he was your dad and not your uncle.

“Please come back to me,” you cry and lean down to sob into his chest.

“Y/N,” Castiel says, and places a hand on your shoulder.

You look up at the angel, and sniffle. He crouches down next to you, and places two fingers on your dad’s forehead. You hold your breath as you wait to see what will happen. Just like that, your dad takes in a large breath and opens his eyes.

“Dad!” you exclaim and trap him in a tight hug.

He winces in pain, and you allow him to sit up before resuming your hug. Castiel walks away to give you some time alone. You want to thank the angel, but he already knows how appreciative you are.

“I’m here,” your dad whispers, and hugs you right back.

Everything is okay now, except for the fact that Sam is gone… and you failed.

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[starr182]

@raspberrymama Here is is, chapter 1! 

Summary: You’ve been hunting with the boys for awhile and your birthday rolls around. Crowley gives you a special birthday gift. 

Pairing: Crowley x Reader.

Warning: Smut. Just 18+ please.

Word count this chapter 2066. 

Let’s be honest, your childhood sucked; both parents, correction adoptive parents, were very abusive. You had an inheritance from your birth parents, but your fake parents wouldn’t let you use it. Nor did they tolerate you to have an opinion or personality. They felt kids should be seen and hot heard. So from a young age you dove into books and drawing the quietest hobbies one could have. The pain of this existence drove you to the enjoy the darker things in life, the moon and stars, mythical creatures, demonology, witchcraft. You learned a few spells or charms to protect yourself, you found that it came naturally to you. As grew older you started having recurring dreams about a large suspended over a pit of nothingness, writing on the bars and a soft glow of red and blue light emanating from within. You tried searching but you could never find anything that matched the writing, but then again you could never really remember it clearly once you woke up. You collected many books on lost languages which lead you down the road of the supernatural. Of course, you never thought the creatures you often read about were actually real.

One night while having dinner with the fake parents when three people broke in. Not people, they couldn’t be. Their teeth were razor sharp and they had too many of them. You hid under the table as your parent were butchered, their screams faded to gurgles as they choked on their own blood. Your mother fell to the floor as you watch the last light fade from her eyes. Two of the monsters leave but not before telling the third to make sure you were taken care of. She pulls you out from under the table and pulls you up to her face. You notice she isn’t much other than you. She tells you she’ll let you live but you have to promise her something. You have to get her away from the monsters that killed your family, that she wasn’t like them, they liked hurting people but she didn’t. You agreed and she let you go. It took you awhile but you held up your end of the bargain. And that is how you became a hunter.

 ***Time jump***

Those vamps were long since gone, the younger female freed. Your in your 30’s now and haven’t run or hid from monsters in years. You’ve embraced the hunter lifestyle with ease. A couple years back you ran into the Winchesters and they pretty much adopted you. You first met them when you were both working the same case and staying at the same shady motel. You noticed an Impala in the parking lot with the hood up and offered to help. Dean looks at you from under the hood and says “Yeah doll you could jump me. Uh I mean the car, the battery.” You both laugh as you decide to help them out, you pull next to Baby in your 67 Shelby GT 500 and Dean is impressed. You two hit it off right away and decided to work the case decided to make the team up permanent.

Hanging with “your boys” as you call them, meet all sorts of interesting characters; Castiel an angel of the Lord, a witch named Rowena, Charlie a nerdy hacker and your favorite by far, Crowley the King of Hell. You were always attracted to the darker things in life and you couldn’t get much darker than a demon who reins over Hell. He was suave, smart, sarcastic and nice-ish to you at least.

The first time you met Crowley you were on a hunt for some rogue demons with the boys. You were hold up in an abandoned house in the woods. They boys sent you on a food run and you came back with a couple pizzas, an apple pie, a case beer and a bottle of Jamison. You barge in the door and say “I got pizza, pie and beer.” Dean replies its about time sweetheart. Crowley, who doesn’t even look up from the map that Sam is showing him stated “You’re redundant darling. You don’t need to say pizza pie, everyone knows it’s a bloody pie. “Not redundant. Pizza comma pie. Pizza and apple pie…dumbass.” You reply. Dean almost chokes on his beer. “Oh feisty, I like her.” He replies as he looks you over. Sam tells him to back off as you just roll your eyes. The was the first job you worked with him, the first of many. After a few cases with you two busting each other’s balls, you started to like the guy, demon, whatever. You weren’t supposed to like the King of Hell, but you did. The boys would kill you if they found out. Well not literally but they WOULD kill Crowley. Of course, you couldn’t tell Crowley you had feelings for him. How the hell could he ever like you, a human, a hunter, a Winchester.

Its your birthday and you and the boys are hunting a Wendigo in Nebraska. They needed Crowley for something unrelated and have him stuck in a Demon trap on the first floor of this abandoned house.  You come down the stairs and Dean informs you there was another death; that he and Sam have to run into town and that you would be babysitting the demon. After they leave you sit on the desk across the room from Crowley, legs crossed in your jean shorts, black tank top and purple plaid shirt. Crowley eyes you seemingly with boredom in his eyes. You decide to grab your duffle bag and drop it on the desk. “You wanna drink? Don’t worry, it’s not the swill my brothers drink.” “What’s the occasion?” He asks. “My birthday you reply.” He cocks an eyebrow as you pull a bottle and 2 crystal glasses from your bag. “hmm, what’s your poison?” You turn holding the bottle of Glencraig and you see a smirk grace his face. You pour a glass and hand it to him carefully so not to disturb the trap lines. You pour yourself one as he says “You can’t possibly be related to those two. You don’t have a bad bone in your body.” Ah fuck it you think as you down your glass, step over the trap line to face Crowley. You stand on your toes to whisper in his ear “If you play your cars right, you can be the bad bone in my body.” As you grab his crotch. Holy shit he’s huge. His eyes widen and jaw hangs open as you step back out of the circle. He’s speechless as he downs his drink too. He shakes the empty glass signaling a refill. You pour yours first then carry the bottle over to refill his. He backs up so you have to reach your arm over the trap line to pour. As you finish pouring, he grabs your wrist with his empty hand and pulls you to him. He plants his lips on yours as you bring your empty hand to his face to lightly touch his stubbled cheek. He pulls away from the kiss and looks down at you with those whiskey eyes “Let me out of this trap so I can give you your gift.” You shake your head “the boys would kill me” he replies, “No, they’d kill me. Later then Darling.” He smirks before leaning back down for another kiss. This one rougher than before; he bites your bottom lips, his tongue wrestles yours for dominance. His empty hand grabs your ass as he leans back towards the outline of the trap, its magic holding him up as would a wall.  Just then you hear Baby coming up the driveway and detach yourself from Crowley and head back to the desk to sit down as if nothing happened.

Both of you grinning as the boys enter. Sam is carrying an ice cream cake while Dean carries a small package, “Happy birthday” they say in unison. Aw they did remember. Dean gives you your gift which turns out to be the latest installment in your favorite book series. Sam cuts up 3 slices of the cake, hands one to you and Dean and takes one for himself. “What about Crowley?” you ask. “What about him?” Dean asks. You stroll over to the trap and hand him your slice of cake with a wink and cuts another slice for yourself. Afterwards the boys get whatever they needed from him and release him, He winks at you before disappearing.

After another half hour or so of drinking you head upstairs to take a cold shower and head to bed. Sitting on the chair in your room is Crowley. “Took you long enough. I’m not a patient man, love.” “Sorry, didn’t know you were waiting for me.” You reply “I did say later didn’t I? Now come here.” He raises from his chair in the shadow and grabs you, both hands on your waist. He looks into your eyes before he teleports you both out of there to a dark bedroom with a large 4-post bed with black satin sheets. You can only assume this is his bedroom. The room smells of burning wood, leather, cashmere and whiskey; some of your favorite things. Is this on purpose or coincidence?

He allows you a moment to take in your surroundings before his attach begins. His lips seem to be everywhere at once; your lips, cheeks, ears, neck, jawline and collar bone. His hands explore your curves, your hands planted on his pert ass. He starts to nibble on your neck, but carefully so that he doesn’t leave marks. He pulls away and snaps his fingers and you feel cold around you as your clothes are now gone. You move to cover your breasts and women hood but he slaps your hand away, “don’t you dare, love.” He cocks his head to the side as he looks you over, a predator stalking prey. He smiles as he the pushes you back onto the massive bed.

He climbs on top of you and quickly kisses you while one of his hands starts to massage your breasts. You let out a small moan as he pinches and pulls on one of your nipples as he tries to gauge your preferences. He lowers his head and uses his mouth to play with the only. His tongue caresses it and uses his teeth to gently pull it. All the while watching your face to make sure you are enjoying every moment.

He drops his head lower between your legs and inhales your scent. The smell of you is rather earthy something vaguely reminds him of his childhood home. He pushes the thought from his mind as he dips his long tongue into your folds. You moan out his name in response. He licks from your clit down and into your entrance eliciting another moan. “Fuck, darling, you taste so damn good. You’re so wet for me already.” He plunges a finger inside of you causing you to moan, he adds another in response. His tongue works your clit as he pumps his fingers into you and out of you completely before diving back in again at a maddening speed. His other hand alternates between kneading your breasts and tugging your nipples. “Oh God, you feel so good.” Crowley stops, removes his fingers from you and lifts his head. “Don’t. Don’t ever call his name when you’re with me, love. Got it?! God’s not here.”  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Crowley.” You whimper as he resumes his onslaught against you. You quickly approach your climax as your clench around his fingers, bucking your hips up into his face as he buries his face further into you as you cum on him. He pulls away from you, licks his fingers and smiles, “you are delicious. I could live down there.” You blush as you crawl to him and kiss his neck. He pulls away and tells you to get dressed. Fuck, what did I do wrong? You think. After your dressed he poofs you back to the abandoned house. “We re you pleased with your gift?” he asks. “Yes, very, but I’d like to return the favor.” “It was a gift, not a favor, Darling. Happy birthday” He kisses you quickly then disappears.  Best birthday yet. 

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Daughter of a Righteous Man- Chapter 20

*SEQUEL TO THE LOOK IN HER EYES*

After her husband is drug to Hell, Ava Winchester and her brother in law Sam try their best to do right by Dean and raise her daughter, only to find that good intentions aren’t always enough. Loving someone isnt always enough.

Chapter Twenty, I Am Yours

Ella

About 16 Years Later

He was sleeping. His arm hanging off the side of the bed. His forehead was wrinkled. I couldn't tell if he was having a bad dream or a good one, but his eyes moved rapidly under his eyelids.

I crawled onto the bed next to him, and crouched over his head. I ran my finger down his nose, tickling it. "Wake up," I murmured.

His eyes flew open and he grabbed for the gun under his pillow before he saw it was me. He exhaled slowly. "What're you doing here?"

"I know how hard today is for you, Dad."

He groaned and shook his head. "Nope. I'm fine, kid. Where's Claire?"

"On a hunt," I said with a shrug.

"I can't believe you're dating a hunter,” he groaned, rubbing his face. His green eyes looked dull and tired. He needed to shave. "Not exactly a fathers dream."

"They say girls alway date people who resemble their fathers," I said gently with a mischievous smile.

His eyebrows raised. He pretended to be offended, pressing his hand to his chest. "I am nothing like biker Barbie!"

"Can you stop calling her that?" I asked with a laugh.

"Nope." He grinned widely.

Good. A smile. That's a start.

"Is Sam up?" He asked with a yawn.

"Probably. You know how he is. Up with the birds."

"And Cas?"

I shrugged. "He doesn't exactly sleep. Last time I walked by his room he was binging Game of Thrones."

Dad groaned. "We need to put a timer on his tv. It's going to rot his brain."

The bunker had been surprisingly quiet all morning. I think everyone knew that today of all days we needed to be gracious. We needed to be kind. He shouldn't be rattled, especially with everything that was going on.

"Maybe, but he likes it."

"And Jack?"

I reached out and took his left hand in mine. "Dad what's wrong? Why are you so worried about where everyone is?"

He shrugged. "Curious,” he grunted.

We were the same, Dad and I. We were cut from the same cloth. He squeezed my hand weakly. Today was a bad day on top of a million other bad days. We were trying to find a way to keep Michael contained, but he was worried.

By we of course I meant Sam, Cas, and Dad. I wasn't supposed to know, but I'm not blind. I'm also a really talented eaves dropper, especially when there's yelling involved.

"Want to get pancakes?" I asked him.

He narrowed his eyes and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. "Eleanor Mary Winchester, you're supposed to be at school."

I groaned and fell backwards onto the bed. I never would've guessed, based on my Dad and Sams history growing up that I would've been required to go to school at all, but I was so wrong.

Dad enrolled me in a private school, plaid skirts and all. Uncle Sam helped me with my homework, and with all the books around the bunker growing up I easily skipped a few grades in elementary school. My reading levels were off the charts, and I was easily able to do math and computers from watching Uncle Sam hack. Not to mention all the chemistry involved in spell work. Rowena was a great science tutor.

I was an almost seventeen year old high school senior. I only had two classes to complete next semester, and I was opting to take them online so I could help with hunts. Even though I hadn't told Dad that yet.

"Come on, Dad. It's the end of the week. Next week is fall break, and I'm already ahead on my homework. We can rent monster movies and eat way too much chocolate. It'll be fun!"

"No way, kid. You're going to school,” he said, patting my knee.

He got up, stretching. He turned his head cracking his neck with a satisfying pop!

"Sam May have already called me in," I said, hiding behind his pillow. I was wearing one of Claire's leather jackets, and a Harry Potter T-shirt Charlie had gotten me from Comicon a few years back, paired with my favorite pair of jeans. I wasn't dressed for school, and I had no intention of going.

He crossed his arms and glared at me. "I don't like you going behind my back, El."

I shrugged, twisting my sandy brown hair into a bun. It was getting long, and I kept threatening to cut it, but Claire's favorite pass time when we were alone was braiding it over and over again. Well one of her favorite pass times.

"It's your fault for creating this Full House, three Dads lifestyle for me." I shrugged.

"I am not Danny Tanner if that's what you're implying. We need to be clear on that."

I grinned widely. "Sam is obviously Danny. Cas is unknowingly Joey, and you're obviously cool but stern Uncle Jesse," I said crawling off the bed. I stood on my tip toes to place a kiss on his cheek. "It's way too late for me to show up now. It'll seem weird. Can we just please have a day for just us?"

I turned on my best daughter charm, bottom lip pout and all.

He groaned and pulled me into a hug, placing a kiss on the top of my head. "Fine." I was irresistible to him.

When I went on my first date with a girl everyone joked that it had to be from all the men I was around. How could anyone possibly compare to my three fathers, to the constant love and support? That's just what people saw, though.

I joked that it was all the mommy issues.

"Alright old man! Get dressed, I have triple chocolate pancakes with my name on them!"

Dad grinned. "Yup you're my kid." He said flicking the bun on my head. "I'll meet you in five."

I shrugged and walked into the kitchen. Jack was leaning against the counter staring at the coffee maker. I raised an eyebrow.

I always wanted a younger sibling, but nothing could've prepared me for what it was like to be an older sister to Jack.

"Hey Jackie," I said eyeing him. "Whatcha doin?"

"I want to make coffee... because everyone drinks it, but I just can't figure this out." Jack sighed, looking defeated.

I couldn't help but smile. "Let me show you," I said, taking out the bag of grounds. "Okay take this." I grabbed a filter. "Put it here. Then take a scoop of the grounds and dump them in. Push this back into place and press the brew button! Easy peasy."

His eyes widened as the coffee maker gurgled to life and started spitting out brown water.

"You are so smart Ellie!"

I smiled.

I was the woman of many names. Mom called me Nel when I was a baby, when I was in trouble I was Eleanor Mary, Claire calls me Ella most of the time, Sam mostly calls me Kid or Dean Jr, and Cas has experimented with nicknames, but they're usually so awkward that he sticks with Eleanor.

Jack poured himself a cup and took a sip. He almost dropped the cup, and he met my eyes and softly said, "Ellie this is terrible."

I laughed and shook my head. "Let me show you my ways." I said, wiggling my eyebrows. I walked to the fridge and pulled out the plain half and half, and I grabbed chocolate syrup and whipped cream.

I took his cup from him and poured out half of the coffee, and replaced it with half and half. I poured in a ridiculous amount of chocolate and topped it with whipped cream. "Try now."

He smiled widely and took a sip. His upper lip was covered in whipped cream. "I think I like coffee."

"Me too," I said with a smile. "Don't ever drink it black. I don't even really think Dad likes it like that. He just wants an excuse to be grumpy."

"Oh I do?" Dad asked as he walked into the kitchen. He poured himself a cup and took a sip staring me right in the face. "Mm. Yum."

"Good morning, Dean," Jack said with a whipped cream smile.

"Mornin’ kid." He winked at Jack. "What're you doing today?"

"Reading about social norms," Jack said with a nod. "I'm working on my interpersonal skills."

"Sounds fun," Dad said dryly.

"Castiel said it's essential for me to be able to exist in this world."

"Cas doesn't really have room to talk about interpersonal skills." I laughed and Dad nodded at me knowingly.

"What about you two?" Jack asked eagerly drinking his coffee.

"Breakfast and a monster movie marathon." I grinned widely.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Is your life not already full of monsters?"

Dad and I groaned in unison.

Sam never liked Halloween, but it was Dad and my favorite holiday. We would always dress up in matching costumes, and stay up all night watching horror films. I would always sneak into his room and sleep curled into his back because it was too scary sometimes. From what I hear, it was the exact opposite of what his childhood was like.

I think he worked hard to keep me from having to learn to shoot guns and be afraid of the dark. Knowing that he fought monsters, though, was enough to make me not afraid. How could I be with The Winchester's as my protectors?

So we played pretend in the fall. We let ourselves watch slasher movies and pretend we were regular people. We pretend that I didn't get an anti-possession tattoo at 15, and that we didn't live in a weird underground bunker.

Dad sat his mug in the sink. "Let's hit the road."

"Can I drive?" I asked when we walked into the garage.

He stopped, and touched my shoulder to stop me. "Maybe you should stay home."

"Why?"

"You've got to have a fever if you think you're going to drive Baby."

I rolled my eyes. "My bad." Shouldn't push my luck.

"Get in,” he said with a laugh.

Dad always looked his most relaxed when he was driving the Impala. When it started up he always took a deep breath and smiled. No matter what he was going through he was able to find peace in his vehicle. A lot of people think that home is a place, but for Dad and Sam... that car was always their home. It's been the only consistent thing in their lives besides each other.

"The Little Pancake?" He asked me as he opened the garage and pulled out.

"Obviously. What? You new here?"

He grinned at me.

The Little Pancake had been our breakfast place since we moved back to Kansas. It had ridiculous pancake options. There's no way they could be healthy, and that's exactly what we loved about it.

He took me there after my first period, my first break up, my first C on a test. It was something special for just the two of us. Sam asked if he could come once, and Dad told him no, because they don't have kale pancakes. I think he hurt Sams feelings.

We went to our usual booth in the corner. "Do you think it's too early for a peanut butter milkshake?"

"Never," Dad said.

"Hey Dean, El." Our favorite waitress Cami said as she walked past our table. "The usual?"

"Yeah!" I said with a grin. "Plus a peanut butter milk shake."

"You got it," Cami said with a nod.

"So," Dad started, leaning across the table to talk to me. "Do we need to get you a homecoming dress?"

"Please," I groaned. "No way.. Claire would never be caught dead at a school dance."

"She might for you." He shrugged.

"Would you have gone?"

"For the right girl, I would've done anything."

I smiled. "You're a softy."

"Claire is too,” he said knowingly. "When it comes to you."

"You're all soft when it comes to me. I'm your Achilles Heel. Princess Winchester heir to the great throne," I said dramatically.

"Who raised you to be this way?" He laughed shaking his head.

"You. It was literally you."

Cami brought my milkshake and Dad's coffee. She smiled at him and lingered a little too long like she usually does. She was maybe thirty five, and she had a huge crush on him. She was pretty, and other than the fact that she worked in a diner, she was pretty spectacular. "You know she likes you right." I whispered to him.

"Me? No way."

"Dad come on. All the girls at school talk about how I have the hot Dad." Technically they say hot Dad's, plural, but there's no need to upset him.

"You should ask her out," I said gently.

"What?" He looked genuinely shocked.

"Yeah. You've been unhappy long enough, Dad. Put yourself out there."

"Eleanor, I'm not going to discuss this with you,” he said sharply. Eleanor. That meant the conversation was over. "So, what case is Claire on? Tell me about it."

I frowned and sipped my milkshake. My dad was my best friend, and I know how that sounds. We were tight knit, and I grew up being taught that family is the only thing that matters. Seeing him hurting was physically painful for me, and he was hurting a lot.

"Haunted house," I lied. "Seemed like a milk run. She should be back in a few days." She was actually researching ways to help Dad with the Micheal situation, but I couldn't tell him that.

"You worried about her?" Dad asked.

"Always," I said with a weak smile. "It's hard to care about someone that's always going. Especially when you can't go with them."

"That may be how it always is with you two,” he said glumly, sipping his coffee.

I shrugged. "Maybe, but I'd rather have her part of the time than not at all."

He didn't know that I had an interest in hunting. How could I not? It would be a fight when it happened, so I avoided bringing it up at all costs.

Cami came with our breakfast. Dad got a slice of apple pie with ice cream, and I got my mess of chocolate masquerading as pancakes. The conversation was over.

"I love this place," Dad said with his mouth full of his last bite of pie.

"Me too." I grinned, wiping the chocolate off my chin.

"To the video store?" Dad asked as he sat down the cash to pay and a high tip.

"Well, I was actually thinking..." I chewed on my bottom lip.

"Spit it out, kid."

"I was thinking maybe we could drop by and see Mom for a few?"

His back straightened and he visibly swallowed. "I.. I don't know, El. Is that really a good idea?"

I took his hand. "I think it's time. Don't you?"

He sighed and shook his head. It was always hard to get him to go see her. He was very cut and dry. The past is the past and that's it. No need in dwelling. But she’s my mom. So of course I had to dwell. It's a kids dream to have their parents together in one place. I knew I couldn't have that, and it was fine. I never grew up missing much. Cas, Sam, and Dad did a great job making sure I didn't miss a thing. Before Charlie died, she would come by and help me deal with the stuff the boys couldn't. Then Rowena... I have a big family, but there's still things that no amount of love can fill. More than anything, though, I needed him to have that closure so he could move on.

"I know you miss her," I said quietly.

He sucked in his breath and blinked a tear away. "Yeah, okay,” he said, tossing me the keys. I caught them without fumbling, which was a huge deal for me. I didn't question him, I just walked to the car and got in. He didn't smile when the car hummed when it started up. He just stared at the landscape as we drove.

We parked after what seemed like an eternity of open road. I took his hand in mine to make sure he could move forward. Pain was obvious on his face as we pushed through the iron gate. The air was chilly, but warm for October. The leaves crunched under our feet as we made it down the path.

"Hey Mom," I said gently, crouching in front of the polished marble. I reached out and touched her name that was carved in. Ava Winchester.

—————

Chapter Twenty-One, A Way to You Again

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[allthings-fantasy]

Matching Marks (Chapter 10)

Author: @allthings-fantasy

Pairing: soulmate!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: Language, shower smut

Chapter 9  MASTERLIST

The blinding light that assaulted your senses had you stumbling back against the door of the church. Dean’s grip on your shoulder tightened as he tried to shield your body from the gateway to Hell opening in the center of the floor. A high pitched screech filled the room, busting the glass of the windows along with your eardrums. Everyone’s hands covered their ears, cowering from the sound. Your senses were flooded, blinded, deaf, numb. Then everything went black.

The other side of the bright light wasn’t your personal entrance into the golden gates of Heaven. Instead, you were sandwiched between Sam and Dean in the middle of a plane. Slowly the three of you lowered your arms, taking in your surroundings. “Are you guys alright?” Dean was addressing the two of you, but his eyes never left yours. 

One of his hands shifted to cup your cheek before gently sliding down until his fingers gripped yours, trying to personally look for any injuries on you. All you could muster was a nod, turning around to look at the younger Winchester. “Sam?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of the PA ding cut him off. The pilot’s voice spilling from the speakers. “Folks, quick word from the flight deck. We are just passing Ilchester and will begin our initial descent into Baltimore.”

Sam’s brows furrowed as he glanced around in the interior of the plane. “Wait, Ilchester? Weren’t we just there?”

Whatever hit the plane had everyone tossed in their seats. The impact had the emergency lights turned on, oxygen masks dropping from the ceiling. Your fingers scrambled to get the mask around your nose, frantically looking between the two brothers. Dean had one hand squeezing your leg, the other holding his mask to his face. Out of everything you went through, were you really going to die from a plane crash?

---------------

Apparently not. How the plane survived the descent back to the ground was beyond you. But here the three of you were, Dean driving the Rent a Car center beside the airport. Sure, it was a nice car, but you missed your own and the impala. The car ride was filled with an awkward silence. All having opinions but none able to find the right words.

Sam was the first to speak up. “Guys… lo-”

“Don’t.” He wasn’t able to get more than a word out before his older brother cut him off. “Don’t say anything. It’s okay.”

Now Dean seemed like the crazy one. “I’m sorry but is it, though? Is it really okay?” You shifted further forward in your seat, glancing between the two of them.

Dean sighed and shook his head, knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. “No, it isn’t. But, we just need to keep our heads down and hash this thing out, okay?”

You liked Sam, you really did. But releasing actual Hell on Earth was hard to turn a blind eye towards, apparently not for Dean. Got to love brotherly love. “Well, wake me up if you guys figure out how to kill the actual freakin’ devil.” A huff escaped your lips before leaning your back against the plush upholstery, keeping your arms crossed over your chest.

“So what do we do first?” Sam waited until your breathing turned heavy until he spoke again. He wasn’t a fan of getting the cold shoulder from you.

Dean’s shoulders shrugged, “We need to find Cas.”

----------------

Dean’s POV

“No, you listen to me, boy! Do you think you can rebel against us? Just like Lucifer did?” Zachariah chuckled, a sick smirk coming across his face. Chuck huddled further behind Sam the closer Zach got. The news about Cas being dead was still spinning around my head. I really wasn’t in the mood to deal with his angel bullshit. “If you do not cooperate, I will make sure you never see your little girlfriend ever again. You think you can keep her safe? Think you can keep the devil from reaching her? I’ve told you before she’s important, don’t think I’ll spare her just to make you feel better.”

The cut on my palm stung as my hand curled into a fist, blood trickling down onto the floor. “I sure am glad I remembered this little insurance policy incase you dick bags showed up.” The confusion on Zachariah’s face was almost picture perfect. My hand gripped the door handle, jerking it until the warding became visible. With the touch of my palm, the angels in front of us vanished into thin air.

Chuck inwardly groaned as he looked between the Winchesters, “This sucks ass.”

----------------

Reader’s POV

The sound of car doors slamming awoke you from the best nap of your life. Blinking your eyes open, you came face to face with the back of a car seat. A groan escaped your lips as you pushed yourself upwards, taking in the scene around you. “Where are we?” You coughed, clearing your throat from the grogginess.

“Well, well, well, sleeping beauty awakes.” Dean smirks and turns in his seat to look at you, a playful smile teasing at his lips. “I’m guessing your slept good, you gotta little…” He scratched the corner of his mouth.

Your cheeks turned a furious red when you realized what he was getting at. The base of your hand scrubbed against the left side of your mouth, cringing when you felt a little bit of dried drool. “But to answer your question, we are just leaving Chuck’s house. About to grab a motel until Bobby can get here.”

“Sounds good.” You nodded and ran your fingers through your wild locks. A sideways glance was casted in Sam’s direction, you couldn’t tell if it bugged or satisfied you that he wouldn’t acknowledge you. You might have been a little harsh earlier, but in your defense, you weren’t the one who just let Lucifer walk on Earth.

-------------------

The motel Dean picked was a little over two hours out of town. You honestly didn’t care where you ended up, as long as it had hot working shower you were satisfied. Dean handed each of you a key card before shoving his own into the slot on the door. The light flashed green as he pushed the door open. It wasn’t the worst place you stayed in, but it wasn’t the Hilton either.

Dinghy green wallpaper lined every square inch of the tiny room. You were met with two queen beds, a small kitchenette was settled in the back corner, and a bathroom. Dean tossed his bag on top of the kitchen table, unzipping it to rummage through the contents. Sam awkwardly shifted his weight, looking between the two of you then down at his feet. “Are you gonna get settled in or just stand in the doorway?”

Both brothers turned their attention towards you, Dean giving you a warning glance and Sam looking uncomfortable. “I, uh, was actually just going to go get some ice and the rest of the things out of the car.” He gave you a thin lipped smile and headed back out the door, shutting it behind him.

A deep groan escaped your throat as your flopped down on the creaky mattress. You heard Dean sigh from the other side of the room, his heavy footsteps following. With your eyes closed, you felt his knees nudged against the sides of your feet, opening your legs enough for him. The mattress dipped under the weight of his hands as he leaned over you.

You let out a soft sigh as he kissed the top of your right thigh. “You shouldn’t be so hard on Sam....” The only response you could give was a hum. Dean took his time pecking his way up to your hip bones, letting his teeth nip at the tiny strip of skin showing. “I know you’re mad… I am too, but we can’t change it now.”

“Dean…” You mewled, arching your back slightly as his hands cupped your ribs. The tips of his thumbs running against the underwire of your bra.

His nose nudged the hem of your shirt upwards, exposing more flesh the further he moved. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

A tiny laugh escaped you. “We’re in the beginning of the apocalypse and you’re trying to get into my pants.” Your fingers lifted from the scratchy comforter to run through his hair, tugging slightly.

Dean rumbled, “Mhm… that a problem?” He glanced up at you from under his thick lashes, the green in his eyes seemed darker than usual.

Your head shook from side to side, smiling wide. “I was just thinking that a shower would be really good right now.” Your cheeks blushed crimson, letting your fingers travel down to his shoulders, tracing the neckline of his black tee.

A glint sparkled in his eyes as he suddenly sat up. “Well, let’s go then.” In one swift motion, Dean had you in his arms. Your legs and arms wrapped around him, clinging as his hands landed under the curvature of your ass.

You tossed your head back in a fit of giggles as he carried you across the room and into the reasonably sized bathroom. Dean sat you down on the edge of the sink, giving you another peck before peeling away from your body. You took the opportunity to catch your breath as Dean turned the water on. When he turned back towards you, his eyes raked over your body, a smirk twitching onto his lips.

Dean’s fingers skirted across the hem of your shirt, giving you a questioning glance before pulling the fabric from your torso. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip and your shirt was forgotten about. Your skin ignited at the touch of his hands sliding across the newly exposed skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” he rumbled.

A whimper pushed from your chest as your fingers gripped at his shirt, desperate for skin on skin. Dean only pulled away for a moment to yank his t-shirt off. Dean Winchester was going to be the death of you, but at least you’d die satisfied.

Your lips clashed back together, fingers frantically trying to get each others jeans off. When the two of you were finally stripped of everything, you both froze. One of Dean’s hands lifted, cupping your face before dipping his head, pressing his lips to yours. Everything melted against Dean, becoming completely putty in the palm of his hands.

With cautious steps he backed the you into the shower. The hot steam surrounded and clung to your skin, making the air thicker than it already was. Your spine was pressed against the tile, trapped between him and the wall. Your head fell back as his mouth attacked your neck. He left out a satisfied hum when his erection nudged between your legs. His hand quickly followed, letting his fingers find their way through your folds. A moan got caught in your throat as two thick fingers thrusted inside of you.

“So fucking warm…” Dean groaned as his hand moved faster against you, obscene sounds filling your ears. The palm of his hand rubbing against your clit had your hips bucking against him.

You were a writhing, moaning mess. “Dean… please,” you whimpered, looping one of your legs around his hip, pulling him harder against your center.

He licked the side of your neck, nibbling against the sensitive spot below your left ear. “Please what, sweetheart?” Dean growled and rutted against you, wedging his thick length between your slick bodies.

“Want you inside me,” you moaned. Dean growled and slammed his lips back against your swollen ones. He nudged his hips further between your legs, his hand leaving your core to grip himself. The tip of his cock ran across your slit, the head bumping into your clit with each pass.

Dean locked eyes with you, his eyes turning dark as lust took over. With a twist of his hips, Dean guided himself inside of you, stretching your walls. The two of you stopped, chests heaving, foreheads touching. You felt so full, it was too much. He had to move. “Dean,” you whispered, linking your hands around the back of his neck, pulling his lips back to yours. “I need you to move…”

He groaned deep within his chest before snapping his hips forward. A scream caught in your throat as he thrusted you harder against the wall. You were never going to last, every thrust had him pressing against your cervix, leaving your legs a wobbling mess. Dean must’ve sensed your unsteadiness. Both of his hands grabbed at your ass and lifted you off the floor. Your legs wrapped around his waist, the new angle allowing him to hit that bundle of nerves settled deep inside of you.

You knew Dean was close, his breaths turned ragged, thrusts began to falter. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, without a doubt leaving bruises in their wake. One last snap of his hips had Dean cumming inside of you, pushing you into your own release.

The two of you slumped against each other for a few moment. Dean’s forehead rested against your shoulder, leaving lazy kisses against your collarbone. When he finally pulled back to look at you, he pecked your nose, making you smile. “You think you can stand yet?”

A small laugh cut through the thick air in the shower and you nodded, slowly unhooking your legs from his hips. You groaned when your feet hit the floor, feeling emptier than ever. Your arms stayed around his neck, not ready to give up this much skin to skin contact. Dean’s hands rested on your hips and let his thumbs run across your abused skin. “Let’s get cleaned up before we run outta hot water.”

----------------------

The next fifteen minutes were spent by Dean running a thin motel washcloth against your skin, being cautious as he cleaned between your legs. When the two of you were finally ready to get out of the shower, the water had begun to turn cold and your fingertips looked like raisins.

You both moved around each other in sync, as if you’d been doing this for years and it was merely a habit. With a towel wrapped around your torso, you wiped off the mirror before drying off your hair. You smiled as Dean met your eyes in the mirror as he moved to stand behind you, tightening the towel around his waist.

His arms wrapped around you, tugging your back against his chest, letting his chin rest on the top of your head. Your nose scrunched slightly, looking up at him. “My hair is gonna get you wet again.”

He simply smiled, shrugging his shoulders and kissing the top of your head. Dean’s head dropped, allowing his forehead to rest against you now. He didn’t speak, just ever so slightly rocked the both of you back and forth. “Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“You okay?” Your voice wasn’t more than a murmur and his arms tightened around you. For a moment, your ribs protested the squeeze but he looked too peaceful to tell him to ease up.

You could feel him draw in a deep breath behind you, glancing at him in the mirror again you noticed his eyes were closed. At first, you thought you imagined it. He said it so softly, had he really just said that?

“What?”

Dean’s fingers rubbed against your tattoo situated on your ribs. This time his voice was more confident. “I love you, Y/N.”

The two of you were a tangle of limbs again. Towels were struggling to cling to your bodies as words of love were whispered back and forth. Dean’s hand found the knob of the bathroom door and twisted it. The two of you emerged in a cloud of steam, desperate lips clinging to each other, only to be interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

You jumped apart from Dean, trying to keep your towel covering your modesty. Spinning around, the two of you came face to face with Bobby. He sat at the table with his arms crossed and a pinched expression on his features. “If the two of you are done goin’ at it like a bunch of rabbits, we got work to do.”  

TAGS: @zealous-whispers-of-us  @iamabeautifulperson18  @clarinette07  @divadinag  @danabuggxd  @justanotherteen12  @literallyhelpme  @lobveemo25  @toodeeptowake  @im-here-sometimes  @morgannope  @yesfictionalboysarebetter

[deans-baby-momma]

Against The Wind

A/N: Part 3 of my "Hiatus Story". This one is titled Against The Wind. The first part is here and the second part is here.

I have no idea how many parts this story will have. It's just something I am doing to get through to the premiere of Season 14.  (13 more weeks!!)

If you are not caught up with the show, this has a few spoilers and what not. Thank you guys for reading my work and PLEASE leave me feedback and notes in my ASK BOX.

Mary’s eyes widen and her lips curled into a smile.

“Are you sure?” she asked, hesitantly.

“Yea,” I answered, another bout of tears filling my eyes. "I took the test last week, three in fact. All were positive. Plus, I’m about two months late.”

“Dean is going to be so happy! I just know it! He will make a great father. Even better than John,” Mary exclaimed, excited.

I look at the woman sitting in front of me. Although she should be in her 60’s, she looks only a couple years older than when she was brutally murdered by the demon Azazel in 1983. Dean had told me the story of how she was pinned to the ceiling of Sam’s nursery the night of his younger brother’s sixth month. How the flames had erupted from within her and how his Dad, John Winchester, had almost died trying to save his young wife.  Dean had only been 4 years old at the time, but he can vividly recall the heat from the flames, the smell of the burning wood and the sight of his Dad coming out of their childhood home seconds before it exploded, killing his mother. So, for this woman to claim to know what would make Dean happy and how good of a father he was going to be, it was bizarre to me. She didn’t know her sons, either of them. She didn’t know what made them happy, what made them sad. What scared them, what made them brave. She was practically a stranger to them.

When Dean had reunited Amara, God’s sister whom we had so unlovingly deemed “The Darkness”, with her brother she promised to give him “what he needed most” she had resurrected Mary. Dean had been so happy and content to have his mother back, the woman whom he had loved and cherished and missed tremendously. He brought her back to the Bunker only to find me hiding in our room, in the closet; a Colt .45 hugged to my chest. As soon as he opened the doors, I cocked it and aimed. Thankfully he had called out to me before I squeezed the trigger.

I was surprised and dumbfounded when I realized it was him and jump into his arms in glee. Dean had gone to sacrifice himself to save Earth from Amara and the last I had seen of him was outside the cemetery where a headstone had been erected to memorialize the Winchester matriarch. I stood beside Dean, holding his hand in mine, as he stared at the words carved into the stone.

“You know, I remember how she used to tell me angels were watching over me. Every night after we said our prayers, she’d say, ‘Angels are watching over you’. She would sing Hey Jude to get Sammy to go to sleep. She’d fix tomato and rice soup when I was sick. I would ask her to cut the crusts off my sandwiches and she’d just smile and do as I asked. She made the best pies!” he stopped and chuckled. “One time, she let me help mix the crust. I thought I had done so well stirring the ingredients together but as soon as I turned around, I realized the kitchen was a disaster. Flour was everywhere! Did she get mad? No, she giggled and said, ‘It’s better if you create a mess while making it’. And the she ran her finger through the flour on the counter and poked the end of my nose. Maybe in my Heaven I will be able to bake pies with her and create a mess again.”

“Maybe,” I whispered, trying to keep my emotions at bay. I knew what lay ahead for him and I was not prepared to lose him. But Dean was the only one with a personal connection to Amara. When she first came onto the scene and before we knew exactly who she was, she told Dean that he had freed her and she had the Mark of Cain on her shoulder that matched the one Dean sported on his forearm. So it had been decided that Dean would be the bomb to kill the “Darkness” and save Earth.

Now here he was standing beside me, holding my hand once again, introducing me to his not so dead mother. It all seemed surreal. I had to explain that someone had apparently broken into the bunker while we were saying our goodbyes to him and how I had separated from Sam and Cas as soon as we entered and headed to our, my bedroom to grieve the loss of my lover. I told them how I had heard a commotion and then a gunshot and had hurriedly grabbed my weapon and hid inside the closet, waiting for whomever it was to come for me. Only it was Dean who found me and Sam and Cas were missing.

The sigil we found on the wall between the War Room and the library was easily identified as an angel banishing sigil. We began trying to figure out how someone had broken through all the warding and protection the Bunker carried when the door at the top of the stairs opened. Mary and I automatically pulled our weapons and were ready to blast whoever was bold enough to enter. When Castiel descended the steps, I put my gun down and clicked the safety on and advised Mary to do the same. Dean came in, also hearing the door, and introduced the Angel to his mother.

“Where is Sam? He’s not answering his phone, there is blood on the floor. What’s going on?”

“I don't know. We came back here, there was a woman waiting for us. She blasted me away. I don't know who she was. I don't know what happened to Sam,” Cas explained to the three of us.

We quickly learned that the woman was a member of the Men of Letters chapterhouse in London and had come here to work with the American hunters to teach them of the “better, more improved methods of hunting”. Cas found an old farmhouse in Missouri and we descended on it, rescuing Sam and reuniting him with his brother and mother.

But after a couple of weeks and one harrowing hunt where she got possessed, Mary leaves us, claiming the need to clear her head and get used to being alive again. Her leaving broke Dean’s heart and he retreats into the bedroom and I find him destroying the things he held near and dear to him all these years with tears running down his face. I bend over to find the picture of Dean, John, Mary and baby Sam torn in two.

I look to the blonde sitting in front of Dean’s Baby and sit up straighter. Reaching for the handle I open the door, pausing before I step out of the Impala.

“Mary, not for nothing, but you do not know your sons at all. Don’t tell me Dean is going to be happy with this news,” I steele my voice and continue. “This life, we never know if we are going to live to see another day. I don’t know if Dean has ever considered kids because of the way we live. And I hope and pray if we have this child, Dean is NOTHING like John fucking Winchester! He wasn’t a father, he was an antagonist who raised his children to be like soldiers. Sam and Dean didn’t have a childhood after you were gone. John shaped them to be hunters, killers, to do as he says, no questions asked.” I paused to catch my breath and rein in my emotions. “So until Dean returns from saving the world once again, I ask that you do not speak on his behalf.”

I step out of the vehicle, closing the door behind me and make my way into the Bunker, leaving Mary to stare after me in disbelief and doubt. I might be dating her son, hell I hope one day to be married to him, but I will not stand for her to speak for Dean in his absence.

I walked inside with my head held high. The people we had saved from Michael's apocalyptic world were still staying here in the Bunker and I would not allow them to see me downtrodden. They were expecting this world to be different than theirs and I would do whatever in my power to prove that to them. I went on the search for Cas to see what our next move might be.

I found him in the library scouring through lore books and tombs, trying to find what our next move should be. With Sam and Jack vanished with Lucifer and Dean being a sword for Michael, it was up to Cas and I to save face and keep spirits high.

“Hey Cas,” I say lowly, walking up to the Angel and looking over his shoulder. He is reading about his brothers big battle that Sam and Dean had forfeited years ago, when Sam had taken Lucifer on and locked him back in the cage. “Find anything helpful?”

“No,” he responded, closing the tomb roughly. “All it says is that Michael and Lucifer must fight. Nothing about where it takes place or even why! I still do not understand why our Father created this world only for it to be destroyed by two of his unruly sons!”

I place my hand on the table and Cas looks up at me. “We will figure it out. We have to.”

[mrs-mitch-rapp93]

Blood Moon Rising (Part 4)

Author: @mrs-mitch-rapp93 

Words: 3,142

Warnings:  Fluff, Cussing, and violence

Characters: Steph, Stiles, Dean, Sam, Scott, Sheriff Stilinski

Summary: Steph, Stiles, Dean, and Sam find out more about the animal or creature that is wreaking havoc in Beacon Hills, and Steph and Stiles reveal more about themselves to one another.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6,  Part 7,  Part 8** ,   Part 9   Part 10 , Part 11 ,  Part 12 , Part 13

Authors Note: Once again I want to thank @were-cheetah-stiles and @little-miss-stan for proofreading, And I hope you all enjoy, part 5 should be out soonish!

We gathered in the living room, Stiles and I sitting on the love seat while Sam sat in the recliner. And of course, Dean was pouring a glass of scotch at the bar. 

“So, you and Scott went to the crime scene just to see a dead body?” Dean said suspiciously while sipping on his scotch, his eyes narrowed as he looked at Stiles. 

“Yeah. I heard my dad talking about it over the phone while I was getting ready for school. I left before he did and told him that I had to run to Scott’s house before school.” He answered with a shaky voice as he rubbed his palms over his jeans. 

“How did you get the cut then?” Dean asked. I knew by the look in his eyes, he didn’t believe a word Stiles said. 

“I fell in a hole.” Stiles answered with a straight face. I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, causing all three men turned their attention to me with curious looks.

“I’m sorry. Continue.” I tried to stifle my laughs and patted Stiles’ leg, covering my mouth to hide my smile. 

“Scott and I heard the cops approaching the scene, so we bolted out of there and as we were running, I fell.” Stiles continued. 

“I don’t…” Dean started to say before he was interrupted by Sam’s phone ringing. Sam got up from his seat and went into the kitchen, answering his phone quietly. After a few minutes, he came back into the living room and looked at all of us. 

“That was Stiles' dad. He said they found another victim but she survived. He wants us to come and ask her some questions.” Sam explained with a tone of anxiety.

“Can we come?” I asked and gave Sam my puppy dog eyes. Because Sam was younger than Dean, I knew he had more sympathy towards me. I watched as my brother looked to Dean and then back to me with a resigned smile.

“Yeah, you can come.” Sam finally answered and tousled my hair with a smile. 

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Let me get my shoes.” I said as I started heading toward the stairs before stopping, turning around to look back toward the loveseat. “Hey, Stiles. Do you want to come with me and gather your clothes?” I asked with a sweet smile.

“Sure.” Stiles answered as he got up from the couch. 

“Does he have to come up with you? Can’t you can just grab his clothes for him?” Dean muttered as he turned to face me. “And I want my clothes back, kid.” Dean grabbed Stiles’ arms and growled. 

“Dean, seriously. We’re just going upstairs to grab my shoes and his clothes. It’s not like we are going to go have sex.” I huffed and rolled my eyes at my eldest brother. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stiles’ eyes grow wider when I mentioned sex. 

“I don’t trust him being alone with you, Steph. Especially after what I walked into earlier.” Dean raised his voice, setting his glass down. 

“Oh, so it’s ok for you to bring random women to our hotel rooms or go into a different room and not come back until the next day? But heaven forbid, I have a guy in my room for a few minutes!” I screamed and started stomping down the stairs. Dean came closer, poised to start a screaming match. I felt Sam’s tall frame slide between us, and sighed with relief. Sam had to be the most level-headed out of us all, apart from Stiles.

“Alright, you two. We’ll discuss this later, but right now, we need to start heading to the crime scene.” Sam said with a calm voice. I scowled at Dean from behind Sam before grabbing Stiles’ hand, leading him to my room.

“Hey! Leave the door open, Stephanie!” Dean yelled from downstairs. I ignored him, slamming the door so hard, the walls around us shook. Stiles looked around for his clothes that had been tossed around my room, folding them neatly to set them on my dresser. He grabbed his Vans that had been thrown to the other side of the room and sat on my bed and started tying them as I made my way to my closet and grabbed my black leather crop jacket and my black Combat Boots. I plopped down next to him and slid on my jacket.

 “Dean’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?” Stiles huffed as he finished tying his shoes and looked up at me. 

“I’m so sorry that he had a gun pointed to your head. And you had to witness us fighting. He’s been riding my back ever since we arrived here and I met you.” I said before looking up from my boots and gave him a small smile. 

“It’s cool.” He brushed it off. “So, the mention of sex thing. Did you really mean that or were you just trying to piss your brother off?” Stiles asked with a smirk. 

“Both.” I answered, my cheeks turning rose red. Stiles laughed and leaned towards me, putting his right hand under my chin and kissing my lips softly. We heard a knock at the door and sighed heavily as our kiss broke.

“Steph, you ready?” Sam said from behind the door, his tone obviously more calm that Dean would have been. 

“Yeah, we’re ready.” I answered. Stiles got up from the bed and extended his hand out for me.

As we headed to the car, Dean was grabbing a M1911A1 and handing it to Sam and grabbing the Colt for himself out of the trunk of the Impala. I mentally kicked myself for forgetting that Stiles didn’t know that we were hunters. I turned to look at Stiles, eyes wide as he stared at the Devil’s Trap that was painted on roof of the trunk. The trunk that held every supernatural weapon you could think. 

“I take it that you’re not actually FBI agents?” Stiles asked, slightly perplexed by what he’d just seen. 

“Nope, kid. We’re hunters and whatever is doing these killings is no mountain lion.” Dean said as he shut the trunk and got into the Impala. Sam sat in the passenger side seat, leaving Stiles and I to slide into the backseat. Dean started the Impala and pulled onto the street to head toward the scene. 

“You guys are really hunters? Do you just kill the bad creatures or every creature you encounter?” Stiles asked with a mix of curiosity and something I couldn’t quite place. 

“We kill whatever is hurting others.” Sam answered honestly, turning his head to answer Stiles’ question.

“How long have you been hunters? And what other supernatural creatures have you came across?” Stiles asked. I noticed he got his phone out and started texting someone. A few seconds later, his phone beeped and he texted whoever who had sent him a message. Moments later, my phone buzzed. I took it out of my pocket and read the text.

We need to talk later. In private. Stiles wrote. I looked up from my phone and nodded to him, a signal that I’d gotten his message.

“Been hunting since we were kids.” Dean answered as he put one of his mix tapes in the cassette player. Sympathy for the Devil by The Rolling Stones echoed out of the speakers. 

“We’ve fought Lucifer, vampires, werewolves, ghost, witches, banshees, demons. You name it, we’ve fought it” Sam went through the list as if it were just another mundane job. 

“Hold up. You have fought THE Devil?” Stiles asked. His eyes went wide as he leaned forward in his seat. 

“I was possessed by him for a while. Wasn’t that great.” Sam scoffed. 

“I had the mark of Cain and was possessed by a demon.” Dean contributed to the conversation. 

“Damn. How did you fight him? And who is Cain?” Stiles went a million miles an hour with his questions.

“It’s a long story. We can talk about it later.” Dean said, quickly putting an end to the conversation.

            When we arrived at the scene, there were five cop cars, including the Sheriff’s. We got out of the car and walked toward the officers, Dean and Sam stopping to talk to an older man. 

“Hello, Agents.” Sheriff Stilinski said as we approached. 

“Sheriff Stilinski.” Dean and Sam said in unison. 

“Oh, this must be your sister, Stephanie.” Sheriff Stilinski said kindly as his hand extended toward me. I saw him look over my shoulder and roll his eyes. “And my obnoxious son is with you.” He huffed as I smiled at him. 

“Hello, Mr. Stilinski. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from your son and my brothers.” I chuckled and shook his hand firmly, like Dean and Sam had taught me to.

“Nice to meet you too, dear. I’ve heard wonderful things about you too.” Sheriff Stilinski said with a smile and shot his son a look. 

“So, you said there’s a victim who survived?” Dean interrupted. 

“Yes. If you would like to come talk to her, she is over at the ambulance.” The sheriff said as he headed towards the ambulance, my brothers following behind him. There was a dark-haired girl sitting on the edge of the ambulance, her face distraught and covered with bruises and cuts. Her shirt was ripped and bloody. The cloth of the shirt looked too jagged to be from a knife. It looked like a claw mark. We all started following Stiles' dad until he turned around to Stiles and I. 

“You two stay here. This is an ongoing investigation." He ordered firmly, his eyes fixated on Stiles. 

“Alright, dad.” Stiles said as he grabbed my elbow and walked away from the crime scene. We headed towards the woods, his fingers intertwined with mine as he led me.

“Where are we going?” I questioned. 

“We’re meeting Scott. We need to tell you something.” Stiles said as he put his arm around my shoulders and kissed my temple. I stopped in my tracks, Stiles stopping a moment after and looked down at me. I pulled his shirt by the collar so he could lean closer to me, standing on my tip toes to bring my lip closer to his before they met. His lips were a little cold from the crisp night air, but still so soft. He brought his hands up to rest on my mid back and kissed me harder. We stayed like that for a few minutes until he slowly pulled way. I fluttered my eyes at him and had a huge grin on my face.

“You’re an incredible kisser.” I said dreamily. 

“Thanks, darling.” Stiles said before he leaned back down and kissed me again. 

“Stiles, stop. I’m about to tear your clothes off you if you keep going.” I said with a giggle, my cheeks hot from the sheer intimacy of the past few moments. 

“We can talk about that later, babe. And trust me, we will talk about it.” Stiles smirked as he put his arm around me again. We got further into the dark woods, the only noise crunching leaves under our footsteps and crickets chirping. I took my phone out to turn the flashlight on and Stiles kept his arm around my waist. We continued walking until I heard a branch break to the right of us. I turned my phone to the noise, and saw Scott coming out behind a tree. 

“Yo, Scotty.” Stiles greeted his friend with a wide smile.

“Hey. Stiles. Steph.” Scott got shy as he looked at me and bowed his head.

“So, why did you bring me out here, Stiles?” I asked, looking between him and Scott. 

“On the way here, I texted Scott telling him about you and your brothers being hunters and them not being FBI agents.” Stiles answered and looked down at me carefully. 

“Alright.” I responded quietly before turning to Scott. “Do you believe in the supernatural?” I asked Scott point blank, my arms crossed in front of my chest. 

“Why shouldn’t I? I’m a part of it.” Scott answered me as honestly as I had asked my question. 

“How?” I asked quietly, looking at Stiles and back at Scott with confusion. Scott looked at me and then his eyes turned a bright red. He put his hands up and his fingernails became claws and he began growing long hair all over his face and arms. Finally, his ears came to a point and I slapped my hand to my mouth. 

“You’re a werewolf.” I said a little too loudly. Stiles covered my mouth with his hand quickly, dogs barking in the distance. Scott shook his head and was back to…Scott in an instant. Stiles took his hand away from my mouth, looking at me with concern as Scott came close. 

“I can trust your brothers, right? They’re not going to try and kill me, Lydia, or Malia?” Scott whispered and stared me down, his eyes full of concern. 

“Wait, Lydia and Malia are werewolves too?” I asked in a hushed voice. 

“Lydia is a banshee and Malia is a were-coyote.” Stiles answered me. I walked over and leaned against a tree, trying to process what I had just seen and heard. Yes, I was used to the supernatural. I liked the lore and the hunts (when I got to go on them). But I’d never had friends who part of it. I know that if I told Dean and Sam, they would understand that they are good people. They wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

“You can trust them, I promise. I won’t let them hurt any of you.” I finally answered Scott’s question. He looked relieved and hugged me gently. After I let go of him after a moment, I turned my attention to Stiles as he stood in front of me and rested his hands on my waist. 

“Are you supernatural too?” I asked him, craning my neck up to look into his eyes. I don’t know if I could handle him being supernatural. My family tradition is killing monsters that are under people’s beds. I couldn’t even fathom the idea of hurting someone that I was starting to fall head over heels for.

“No, I’m the only one who isn’t.” Stiles answered me quietly. He looked down at me and gave me small smile as my eyes reflected my relief. I put my arms around him and buried my face into his chest with a sigh. 

“So, what was the real reason you two were out here early this morning?” I asked, finally pulling myself away from Stiles. Not much, but enough I could look at both of the boys.  

“We figured that whatever is killing these teenagers wasn’t a mountain lion. So, we came out here to see what it was. We did cross paths with the creature. I tried hitting it with a baseball bat, but it clawed at me. That’s why my shirt was ripped and how I got the cut.” Stiles answered, pointing to the cut I had bandaged earlier. 

“We couldn’t get a good look at it because it was too fast. The only thing we could see were these black as night eyes. By the time I tried fighting it, it disappeared.” Scott added as he looked at the two of us. I was about to ask them what they thought until we heard footsteps to the left of us. All three of our heads spun as we saw the Sheriff and Sam come out from behind a few bushes. 

“What are you two doing?” Sheriff asked us, giving Stiles an annoyed look. 

“Oh, ah, I was showing Steph the Beacon Hills founder’s statue.” Stiles said, coming up with a cover story quickly. I turned to noticed that Scott wasn’t there. He must have left when Sam and the Sheriff arrived. I thought to myself as I watched the sheriff and his son.

“Why the hell would you show her a statue at 10 o’clock at night when there’s a wild animal out here?!” Sheriff shouted at his son, his face turning red. Stiles opened his mouth to answer until Sam interrupted. .

“Stephanie, we need get going. Dean is waiting for us.” Sam said firmly, giving me a knowing look. 

“Okay.” I mumbled. I looked up at Stiles and squeezed his hand getting a squeeze in return. 

We followed the Sheriff and Sam back to the cars. I noticed the ambulance was gone leaving only two police cruisers and the Impala at the scene.

“Hey, dad. My jeep is a block from their house.” Stiles said to his dad cautiously. 

“We will get it in the morning, Stiles.” The Sheriff answered his son with a hint of irritation. He walked towards his colleagues as Sam walked over to Dean after I told him I would be there in a minute. I felt Dean glaring at Stiles and I and saw out of the corner of my eye that I was right. 

“Am I going to see you at Lydia’s party tomorrow night?” Stiles asked, looking down at me. 

“I’m planning on it. Hopefully Dean isn’t a pain in the ass tomorrow.” I said as I looked up at Stiles and rolled my eyes. 

“Well, text me in the morning then.” Stiles said with a smile. He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek, his lips cool and soft against my flesh. 

“You know you just made Dean hate you even more by doing that?” I said with a giggle. 

“I can’t help myself. His sister is just sexy as hell.” Stiles responded with a smirk. 

“Stilinksi, I’m flattered.” I said while putting my hand on his chest. 

“Hey, anytime. I’ll text you later.” He said as he headed towards his dad. 

“See ya.” I said and turned to see Dean glaring at me. He opened the Impala door and got in, slamming it in irritation. Sam was already in the passenger seat when I got in. We drove in silence for a while until I spoke. 

“So, what did you find out about the victim? Did she see anything?” I asked while leaning forward in the back seat. 

“Her name is Audrey and she said that it it looked like a teenage boy who attacked her. She mentioned that his eyes were black and had very strange claws.” Sam answered. 

“What do you think it is?” I asked. 

“It could be a Croatoan.” Dean contributed to the conversation. I could see him glaring at me in the rear-view mirror.

“Hopefully we figure it out soon.” I said before the Impala fell silent again. Sam turned the radio on and Carry on My Wayward Son by Kansas softly came out of the speakers.

 @cathobs @little-miss-stan @lovefilledtragedy @honeystilinski

@give-me-some-fin-noggin-duuude @caitsymichelle13

[nightmares06]

COM: The Dragon Sleeps Tonight (Part 3)

( First part || Second part )

Commission for @wolfie180g!

A third part to The Dragon Sleeps Tonight was requested, and this time we've got some Sam on Sam action! (Kidding-- they're just talking)

The Brothers Apart Sam and Dean are @nightmares06‘s, dragon Dean belongs to @wolfie180g, and the original Sam and Dean Winchester belong to the CW/Erick Kripke!

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: None

Commissions are open!

The time on the trail together gave Sam plenty of time to think.

He couldn't quite stop glancing at the strange pair of Winchesters they'd found. It was hard to argue that they weren't the same guys. Dean's spike of dark-blond hair and confident swagger stood out in all the people Sam had ever met, but then there was the other Sam...

Not even the length of one of his fingers, and tucked against Dean's neck like it was normal.

Drifting back from Dean and Castiel-- the large dragon leading the way as he sniffed out his human counterpart's trail-- Sam couldn't resist engaging his tiny self, fascination in every bit of him.

When did one get the chance to talk to themselves from another universe?

Though neither Dean seemed overly interested in chatting each other up currently, with the human one still glowering at everyone teasing him and the dragon smug at having the last word. Not to mention having proved he could backtrack Dean's trail without breaking a sweat.

Their loss.

"Hey," Sam said companionably as he leveled off next to where his smaller counterpart was sitting.

The other Dean gave him the side-eye, determined that Sam wasn't talking to him and walked stubbornly on without a break in pace. As was his usual when he was busy mulling over something else (likely the fact that not ten paces ahead was a dragon version of himself he’d nearly tried to put a bullet through not long ago).

Sam's counterpart looked up at him, making him feel suddenly very over-sized despite the giant dragon who had taken point, and broke out into a huge grin. Those tiny hazel twins of his eyes shone with an equal curiosity.

"Hi!" the young kid called out brightly.

Sam had a matching grin on his face. "Wow. Just wow," he breathed. "Uh. I wanted to talk? Did you...?"

Younger Sam looked between Dean and his counterpart, patting his older brother's neck and then nodding. No words were needed between them, just as Sam already knew what his older counterpart meant.

Dean let out a huff, and stopped in place. Not once did Sam have trouble keeping balance on his shoulder, a skill Sam wished he had himself sometimes with his Dean. This kid made it look effortless to stay on a walking, moving person.

Reverently, Sam held out his hand, marvelling at the fact that his downsized version was just barely the size of his pinky as the kid stepped carefully from Dean’s shoulder to Sam’s hand.

“Whoa,” Sam whispered, and the kid nearly stumbled when his hand wavered slightly in midair. He steadied it, his second hand coming up for support, cupping around the first. “S-sorry about that… This is out of this world…”

“You’re telling me,” his younger counterpart commented, his head tilted back to take in every detail. “Out of all the weird stuff we’ve had happen, I never expected this.” He waved at Sam, his gesture wide to try and encompass all of the hunter.

“You two kids behave,” Dean groused from the side, already forgotten in their awe of each other.

They glanced back at him, twin bitchfaces a perfect mirror despite their scale.

“I’m older than you,” the taller reminded him, a smirk on his face.

The dragon walking beyond them turned his neck to see what the big holdup was, and chirped his own addition to the argument. Cas turned as well, one hand against Dean’s forearm as he translated. “Age has nothing to do with being the little brother.”

Dean chirped insistently, and Cas let out a put-upon sigh as he was compelled to finish the statement for all to hear. “Bitch.”

The dragon stretched his legs, contentedly flexing each limb to show he was content with the amended translation.

“Shall we continue?” Cas asked the rest. “We must see if we can return to our own world before we mess up the timeline.”

The human Dean shrugged. “How much can you mess it up?” He jerked his head at Sam. “Unless I’m missin’ somethin’, he’s never been livin’ it up as a borrower, so there’s not much you can change more.”

Sam looked him up and down, unable to deny the ache he felt at seeing his older brother-- whether he was Dean from years ago or not-- returned to his humanity. “Guess not. Might mean you have a chance to keep yourself human.”

“It just means our worlds are different,” the smallest Sam piped in from his place on his counterpart’s hand. He’d sat out of the conversation until now, awed to see the dragon his brother had become from far enough back to appreciate his full size. “We can learn from each other.”

Dean rolled his eyes with a scoff and stalked off towards the other two to catch up to Dean and Cas. “Just don’t forget we need to send them back! ” he grumped over his shoulder.

“Is he always like that?” Sam asked the kid in his hand.

“Is yours? ”

Sam couldn’t hide a smirk at the comeback. It had been shot back at him without a wasted breath, exactly what he’d expect of himself. “Fair enough.” He lifted him up. “Shoulder?” he asked, genuinely curious. They might have a lot in common, but he had no idea what his preferred perch on a person would be.

It didn’t exactly come up much.

The younger Sam bobbed his head in agreement. “Shoulder’s best. Pockets are not a fun way to travel.” He wrinkled his nose in such a familiar expression, small-scale, that Sam couldn’t hide a laugh.

“You got it, kid,” he said as he held up his hand.

The sensation of tiny feet and tiny hands grabbing hold of his collar and hair for support made the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck rise up, goosebumps covering his arms. It was all made weirder to think that it was a tiny version of him there, moving the collar out of the way to carve a spot to sit next to his neck much like the kid had been sitting with Dean moments before.

“You all set?” Sam asked when the movement tapered off, waiting to start walking for when he was certain he wasn’t going to shake the guy free with his first step.

The next part that followed was just as startling. He might have seen the kid pat the alternate Dean’s neck for answer before but hadn’t expected that same motion to be used on him minutes later. Two tiny pats followed by a “You got it!” that sounded identical to his same statement seconds before this attempt. The main difference between their voices was his was deeper and reverberated more because of his size, while the smaller Sam’s was light and might drift away on an errant breeze.

With the assurance between them, Sam set off at a quicker pace than before to catch up with the others. If it wasn’t for the size of his own brother, cutting a swath through the forest, he might have lost them completely because of his distraction. The dragon lead the way and they followed.

Sam spent a moment getting settled again once his large counterpart took off in the direction of the others, working hard to avoid worrying him. He’d insisted he could do this, and he wasn’t about to admit the older man’s stride had caught him off-guard.

It was nothing like Dean’s, short and cocky and full of swagger as he walked around. Even when he ran, it was lower to the ground and done with quick economy of movement, the few times Sam had clung to his collar during a chase.

Sam’s was longer and more loping, making his shoulder bob more during each stride. Smaller Sam wondered if his own was like this. He’d never given much thought to it; at his size, he wasn’t about to have anyone riding his shoulder anytime soon. If he did, something had gone badly, badly wrong.

“Holding up alright there, pint-size?”

The voice jarred Sam from his thoughts, nearly making him lose his grip. The last thing he’d expected to hear from himself was that same nickname Dean had given him all the way back the first day they’d found each other. He blinked, gathering his thoughts.

“I’m fine!” he called up, his voice raised instinctively as his-- Sam’s-- ear was higher up than Dean’s while they were talking.

The older Sam nodded to himself, what Sam could see of his face thoughtful. “So you really lived most of your life like this? Without Dean?”

There was a bit of sadness in his voice as he asked the question, and Sam remembered hearing that this Sam had lost his dragon brother nearly right at the start, kidnapped and tortured. He put a hand of consolation on Sam’s neck again, leaving it there to show his support this time.

“It’s not like what you went through,” he reassured him. “Dean tried… he really tried… to save me back then, but dad dragged him out. And once I knew it was him, and more importantly, he knew it was me, he instantly did his best to fix what he could. Neither of us ever… dealt with what you did.”

The taller Sam frowned. “You still lost your family for that long,” he said sternly. “It’s more than anyone should have to deal with.”

Sam switched to patting his neck. “I’ve long come to terms with it. I had a family to help me through that time, and now that I’m back with Dean, he’s become a part of that family. It’s enough.”

Up ahead, the dragon had stopped in his tracks, head down to the ground. As they cleared the last group of bushes, Sam felt some of the tension relax from his shoulders.

Different universe or not, the Impala was home.

Dean was sniffing at the doors, chirping a mile-a-minute at his counterpart with Castiel’s head on a swivel trying to keep up with translating before tossing his arms in the air to get him to slow down. Dean’s human counterpart was leaning against the driver’s side door with a smug grin on his face.

“Put her back together myself,” he said smugly in response to the last statement before the Sams arrived. “Some sprites blasted the front off a while back, and when I was working with her I installed the panic room for Sammy.”

Sam came up to the side just in time for Dean to open the door wide to show off what he could. The dragon couldn’t quite get low enough to peer in, but Cas knelt down and let out an impressed whistle. Sam peeked over their heads, spotting a metal case built in directly under the driver’s seat.

“It’s mine,” the smaller Sam explained when he saw his counterpart’s interest. “I don’t need Dean to get in and out of the Impala, and it’s a strong enough room that breaking in is either impossible or will take too much time. I can get out first.”

Sam pursed his lips, equally impressed. “Inventive,” he admitted.

This served to make Dean even more smug. He slammed the door closed and strolled slowly past the others to the trunk. “You’ve got it,” he said.

Sam held up his hand to his shoulder, letting his tiny counterpart get into his hand. “So, you have a way to send us back to our world?” he asked curiously.

“Believe it or not, we’ve dealt with this a few times before,” Sam piped up from his hand. “The only change in the spell we need is blood from one of you to tell it what universe to point the doorway at. The rest will take care of itself.”

“That means, whatever you were doing when you were there, you better be ready for the second you step through,” Dean warned as he gathered up the supplies. “We can’t control that part here.”

Sam nodded in understanding and let his small self onto the roof of the Impala to survey their preparations from a higher perch. With Dean moving about so quickly, it seemed an easier option.

The smaller Sam immediately set off towards the trunk, hitching up his satchel. Dragon Dean watched, his green eyes carefully focused on the incredibly small person he was watching, still unable to believe that people could live at that size. His own brief excursion when shrunken had been quite enough, and nothing he wanted to repeat. Shrinking had taken away the natural body armor his body possessed, making his skin too thin to keep animal claws from dealing damage and even too weak to withstand his natural fire.

Dean straightened, a book held in hand. “Everyone ready?” he asked gruffly.

“Be ready to offer up your blood when Dean tells you!” Sam called from his spot on the Impala.

“And stay close together,” Dean warned. “We’ve only tried this on one person at a time before.”

The older Sam nodded. “Got it.” He pulled out his silver knife and held it at the ready.

The words Dean spoke blended into each other as he incanted. Sam normally had a great memory for Latin, but there was something about this spell that made them slip right out of his mind as they were spoken. Maybe the way it focused right around him and the other two.

Dean lowered his long, sinuous neck down, his shoulders hunched forward as he tried to stick as close to his brother and partner as he could. Castiel put a reassuring hand on his eye ridge.

The air around them swirled into a twister, encompassing all three.

“NOW!” Sam shouted from the Impala, and the other Sam wasted no time slicing his palm open.

The air ripped around them into a reassuring green and blue aura and Sam felt the worry leave him. This was right.

He gave one last wave to the strange Winchester pair they’d found, then leapt into the vortex, Cas and Dean close at his heel.

The air swirled shut and the dust fell to the ground. Dean sighed, wiping his brow. “What are we, Grand Central Station?” he griped.

Sam smiled as he looked at the deep furrows in the ground where the dragon version of his brother had stood. “I don’t know, they weren’t so bad,” he said. “Got to see me at the right size, after all.”

Dean puffed up his chest. “I’d make a pretty badass dragon,” he said as he offered Sam a path to his shoulder with his hand.

Sam rolled his eyes. “So long as no knights in shining armor try to rescue any princesses from you,” he said dryly.

“Rescue from me? All the ladies love me!”

FIN

[fangirl-writing-fiction]

I’m in

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Words: 2,783

Warnings: a bit of angst, I guess, and some fluff

Summary: You and Dean have been on a hunt together. But not everything went as smooth as you had wanted it to.

Author’s Note: This is my entry for @impala-dreamer‘s One Prompt For All Challenge! (I hope I’m not late) The prompt is in bold in the fic. I hope you guys will enjoy it! 

The hard metal of the cuffs cut in your wrists as Dean tugged you along behind him. You felt the skin beneath getting sore, but you kept quiet as you followed him as quickly as you could without stumbling into him or putting too much of your weight on your hurt leg. Dean's shoulders were tense, his hand that was stuck in the other cuff, was balled into a fist and his whole demeanor screamed 'angry' at you. His steps were wider than yours and you were glad when the Impala finally came into view. Even if it meant that he was most likely going to yell at you, you'd rather have him do that when the cuff wasn't cutting in your wrist and your leg wouldn't hurt with every movement.

Dean slowed down a bit when he reached Baby's trunk and you matched your steps quickly to his. He opened the trunk and threw his angel blade inside, waiting for you to do the same, before he closed it with a loud thud and moved wordlessly to the driver's side. You stood in front of the driver's seat, wondering how you two would get in there, as Dean tugged on the cuffs, making you wince slightly. 

"You gotta get in there first, princess", he said gruffly, his green eyes hard. If you had been sorry before, he had now set fire to your rage. "Don't call me princess, for god's sake", you replied and ducked inside the Impala.

You climbed over the console, hissing slightly, when the gash on your thigh bumped against the gearstick.

"Oh, look! She talks!", he mocked you, when he climbed in after you.

You felt your cheeks turn red and a tight ball formed inside your stomach. The dumb pulsing in your leg and your wrist didn't help to calm your uprising anger either.

"Don't you dare to blame me for the silence on the walk back to the car, Dean! This isn't my fault! You were the one who walked ahead and put on that whole 'If you talk to me, I'm gonna end your life' demeanor."

Your wrist ached when you moved further down the seat and put again pressure on the sore skin, but you wanted to have as much room between Dean and yourself as possible. It was hard to be near him, when you weren't angry at each other because of your feelings for him. It was worse when you knew that you had disappointed him. Dean looked at you as if you'd gone totally insane.

"Sweetheart, I won't have you blaming me for any of this either. If you hadn't jumped in front of that damn demon, nothing of this would have happened!", he shot back and closed the door behind him.

You huffed out an exasperated breath and tried to cross your arms in front of your chest, but Dean's arm stopped your movement.

"You gonna move over here so that I can drive? Or do you have any other brilliant ideas that you'd like to share with the class?"

Blood rushed through your ears and almost drowned out every other sound as you moved close enough for Dean to start the engine.

"Fuck off, Dean. You know that if I hadn't jumped in front of you and took that hit you'd be almost dead right now."

He laughed humorlessly at that and shook his head as he shifted gears and pulled on the highway.

"Don't make yourself more important than you are, princess. I would have been more than fine without you."

You pressed your teeth together, almost being able to hear the crunching sound, and balled your hands into fists.

"Go fuck yourself, Dean Winchester", you hissed, before you turned your back at him and looked at the dark outside of the Impala. "Oh, I'll do that, Y/N/N, as soon as I got us out of those cuffs that you got us into!"

You remained silent for the rest of the drive back to the bunker and stared out of the window. When Dean finally pulled into the bunker's garage you had never felt more relieved to be back. The drive back hadn't been too long, only two hours, but when you climbed out behind the green eyed hunter, your limbs were stiff and your jeans were soaked with your blood where the demon had cut you. Dean waited for you impatiently while you climbed out and turned towards the map room as soon as you had gotten out, not sparing you a second glance when you stumbled after him.

He stopped in front of one of the sideboards and dug through the inventory of its drawer for a few seconds, before he found what he had been looking for. With a giant cutter he turned to the library. You followed him in silence. The hunt and anger in combination with the blood loss from your thigh had drained you and you felt slightly dizzy.

Sam sat in the library, books spread out in front of him on the table. He perked up, when he heard you and Dean approach. His gaze immediately caught the angry expression on his brother's face, before it moved to the cutter in his hands.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to kill me", Sam said, a slightly amused tone in his voice, but you caught the weary look in his eyes.

You knew that he remembered how his demon brother chased him through the bunker with a hammer and you honestly couldn't blame him for being weary. Dean might not have been a demon anymore, but he still wore the Mark of Cain and that made him just as unpredictable from time to time.

"If anybody, I'm going to kill her", Dean answered in response and tugged at the cuffs around your wrists, so that you moved closer towards the table. Sam frowned at the cuffs and shot you a questioning look at which you just quietly shook your head. You were too tired for this shit.

"Okay... So, what do you want me to do?", Sam asked instead and looked back at Dean, who handed him the cutter.

"We gonna pull the chain tight and you cut it. Don't want princess here to get hurt, do we?", he asked sarcastically and looked at you.

You avoided Dean's gaze and instead chose to just pull on the chain so that Sam could cut it in one fluid move. It took him a second to figure out how to hold the cutter, his elbow was still hurt, but when the tension left the chain you immediately moved away from the older Winchester and leaned against the table behind you. Dean looked at you from the corner of his eye, before he took the cutter out of Sam's hands and left the library without another word. The younger Winchester turned towards you, his eyebrows raised and a worried expression in his eyes.

"You look tired. And pale. What happened?", he asked, his gaze travelling over your appearance.

You sighed and shook your head.

"The case you found for us? It was pretty clear, actually. You were right with your guess that it had to be a demon. And we found it rather quickly. It had possessed a police officer. That's how he got into the victims' place to torture them."

You took a shaky breath and Sam's expression got even more worried. When his gaze caught the bloodstain on your jeans, he sprung into action immediately.

"Y/N, you got hurt, why didn't you say anything?", he asked exasperated. You shrugged and looked down at your feet. "It's not bad, I just need to rest." Sam shook his head at you and grabbed your hand without the cuff on it, to make you follow him to his room.

"If your jeans are blood drenched, I'm pretty sure it is bad. I'm gonna patch you up, alright. And you can finish telling me what happened to the two of you."

His tone didn't leave any room for discussion and so you followed him, before he told you to get rid of your jeans and to sit down on his bed. Sam went into the bathroom, returning a few seconds later with a first aid kit that he placed next to you on the bed. You had taken off your jeans and sat partly on the side of your left thigh so that you wouldn't put harmful pressure on the cut and didn't bleed on Sam's bed.

Sam made a disapproving sound and shook his head slightly at the sight of the gash on your thigh. It oozed blood slowly, but steadily, and judging by the look on Sam's face, you knew you needed stitches.

"You tell me this isn't bad, Y/N/N? This must have hurt like hell. How did you even get that?", Sam asked while he set to clean the wound. You sighed before you continued.

"It had figured out that we are hunters rather quickly. So, when Dean and I went to one of the victim's house, it followed us. We had been looking for any clues on who the demon had possessed, because there was no way we could have known that it was one of the police officers and it basically jumped on us. It kept me pinned against a wall...", you hissed when Sam used alcohol to clean your wound and he shot you an apologetic look, "... while it focused on Dean. Of course Dean put up a fight, but that demon bastard was quick on his feet. Even too quick for your brother."

You took in a sharp breath when Sam started to stitch you up, fisting his bed sheets in your hands.

"Keep talking, it'll distract you from the pain", Sam encouraged while he focused on the needle.

"For it being as quick, it also seemed awfully dumb", you continued. "Dean had fallen on the ground, his angel blade in the demon's hand and it was about to put an end to the fight. But it forgot to keep me locked on the wall, so I jumped in front of Dean, blocking the stab with the angel blade. Originally I had meant to kick it from its hand, but like I said, it was quick. After that it grabbed me and threatened Dean to drop all fight or it would kill me. That's how we ended up cuffed to the heater."

Sam finished your stitches and made sure to clean them again with an alcoholic wipe so that they wouldn't get infected, before he sat down next to you on the bed, taking hold of your hand that still had the cuff on it. He looked at it for a second, frowning, and grabbed his picklocks out of his bedside table.

"The demon had meant to torture us to death, just like it had done with its other victims, but it hadn't noticed how rusty the pipe leading to the heater was. Dean had managed to break us free, when it turned its back on us to grab one of its knives and killed it with the demon knife he had hidden in his belt."

Sam managed to pick the lock on the cuff and your wrist was finally free again. He had listened to everything you had told him with a deep frown on his face and it grew even deeper when he noticed that the cuff had broken the skin. It wasn't nearly as bad as the gash on your thigh and it didn't require stitches, but Sam insisted that it needed cleaning and a bandage, just to be safe. When he finished taking care of your wounds, he let out a deep sigh and looked at you.

"Y/N/N, do you realize why Dean reacted like that?", he asked you.

"Because he's angry at me, because he thinks that it was my fault that we got captured at all", you replied shrugging. "And look, Sam, I know that he's right. I'm sure he could have gotten himself out of that situation with that demon, but it was like my brain had gone blank. I couldn't just stand by, I had to jump in front of him, I had to keep him from getting hurt."

"You're wrong", Sam stated flatly and you looked at him in confusion. "He wasn't angry that you got the two of you in handcuffs, he was angry that you took that hit for him. That you got hurt because of him. You know how Dean usually is, how he puts all the blame on himself, for everything, even if it isn't his fault. And since he came back from being a demon, hell, since he got the Mark, it only got worse. Him seeing you getting hurt for him... I know that it's eating away at him right now. You need to talk to him, Y/N. Finally tell him how you feel, because he feels the same for you."

You looked at him as if he had gone mad.

"I don't think right now is the best timing for that kind of talk, Sam." Sam grinned at you.

"You're wrong again. Now is the perfect timing to talk to him about that. Don't tell me you haven't asked yourself as to why Dean, who once picked handcuffs by using the antenna of a car, kept you chained to each other?", he said and dangled the opened cuff in front of your nose.

You took a deep breath before you knocked on Dean's door. You had cleaned yourself up a bit and put on some clean clothes.

"Come in", Dean's low voice grumbled and you opened the door.

He sat on his bed, his back leaned against its headboard and his notebook next to him. When he saw that it was you he got up immediately. Dean looked tired but not nearly as angry as he did when you had arrived at the bunker and that gave you hope that this wouldn't turn into a total disaster. His gaze travelled down and caught the stitches on your right thigh.

"Sam stitched you up?", he asked and pointed at them. You nodded and moved closer to him.

"Look. I don't want to argue with you, alright? I came here to apologize. I didn't mean for us to get cuffed together. And I know that you're angry at me, because I got myself hurt by jumping in front of you. I just... I am sorry, Dean."

He took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face.

"I'm sorry, too, you know?", he replied. "I behaved like a total ass towards you and you didn't deserve that. I know that you meant well. And frankly, I know that I would have done the same, if you had been the one to lie on the ground. But, Y/N/N, that guy was freakishly fast. If you had moved only a second slower... If it had decided to just cut your throat..."

You nodded and moved even closer to him, so that your arms brushed against his whenever you took a breath.

"I know. I get it, though. I would have been just as angry as you. And I'm sorry that I put you into that position. But... Dean, I have a question. Why didn't you just...pick the lock on the handcuffs?"

Dean's eyes got wide and you noticed a small blush spread on his cheeks.

"I-I just didn't think about it", he mumbled, trying to avoid his gaze.

"Mhm", you replied and took another small step closer. "You sure this isn't because you wanted to keep me close?"

He cleared his throat at that, the blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears.

"Dean, it's alright", you said quietly, putting your hands on his biceps. "We've danced around each other for long enough, don't you think?"

"How...?"

"Sam told me."

Dean rolled his eyes at that and you laughed.

"Are you sure, Y/N? I don't want to drag you into that whole mess with the Mark", he said, looking at you cautiously.

Instead of replying, you leaned up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his. It took him a couple of seconds, before he reacted and kissed you back. You hummed lowly in the back of your throat and wrapped your arms around his neck when he placed his hands on your waist. When you had to move away to breathe, you smiled at him.

"I'm in, Dean, if you are."

A wide grin spread on his lips and his green eyes twinkled with joy.

"I'm so in, princess."

[spnsimpleman]

The Unknowns: Thirteen

This is a continuation for The Unknowns.  Which was a one shot and is now a long ass Prologue.  Part One.  Part Two. Part Three. Part Four.  Part Five. Part Six. Part Seven.  Part Eight. Part Nine.  Part Ten.  Part Eleven.  Part Twelve.

Dean x Psychic!reader

Teaser/Summary: An AU sparked from a songfic challenge, The Unknowns is based on Season One Episode Nine, Dean met reader in Lawrence as a child and they created an unbreakable bond. At the end of The Unknowns, reader decided to stick with her boys because she felt something coming but she holds secrets; one she holds close to her heart and a few that she doesn’t even really know yet.

Word count: 5660

Lines borrowed from season one episode nineteen, “Dead Man’s Blood” in Bold.

I approached Jessica’s body slowly and glanced at Pamela. She smiled, her confidence in the whole thing boosting my own. I unwrapped the torn cloth and examined my forearm, the wound had a thin layer of skin just in the beginning stages of knitting together faster than it should.

The soft blue glow in my arm still undulated under the skin and with it in certain places. I pulled the small knife from my pocket and carefully sliced the fine layer then cut the same area from last night on Jessica’s now completely smooth thigh. I placed the wounds together, fully bracing myself for the pain this time. “Anima corpori. Fuerit corpus totem resurgent.”

I gripped the edge of the bed as the force rocketed through my body. Pamela was behind me whispering something I couldn’t understand. It finally subsided and I opened my eyes, wiped the sweat from my forehead, and looked at Jessica. “What’s wrong?” I was winded, like I had sprinted from her apartment all over again. “Shouldn’t she wake up?”

Pamela walked around the bed then laid her hand on the top of Jessica’s head. She leaned down and whispered something in her ear then straightened, “I needed to make sure she didn’t go anywhere while the rest of us were getting some rest. A soulless individual can be predictable but highly volatile if they feel threatened.

I examined Jessica’s features still blank in sleep but felt the woman I had met in the bathroom stirring. “Jessica?”

Pamela was moving out of the room and before I could ask, she threw over her shoulder, “need to get you two patched up.”

I looked down at the open yet somehow cauterized wounds and whispered, “please be okay.”

Y/n? A sigh but something was wrong, it wasn’t her voice and the room began to soften and blur.

Concern, deep and familiar, pulled me up from the memory, the now fuzzing dream. Dean.

I opened my eyes to the dash of the Impala. Sam was standing in front of the car looking toward me with the concern I felt strongly beside me painted on his face.  Dean was at my side but I didn’t want to see what I already felt flowing inside me. “Sorry.”

“We’re okay but I'm worried about you.” Dean touched my forehead, my cheek, “maybe you're coming down with something? You've been passing out hard a lot this last week.”

“I just need to get used to the constant road life again. That's all.” I gave him a smile but it didn't change his mood.

“You need food.” He slid over and pulled me with him, my stomach growled.

I chuckled, “I can get out of the car myself, you know.”

“Maybe I just want to touch you.”

“Flattery will get me every time.”

He helped me out and his hand stayed on my lower back as we went inside the small diner. I always loved little diners like this. Mom and pop places with so many touches of the local area. There was something about walking into a place and getting a feel for an entire town that comforted me. A reminder that some things still work even when everything changes around them.

A small chalkboard just inside the door told us to choose a clean table and we’d be helped shortly. Sam lead the way to one and we all sat down. A cheerful, blonde teen girl came over and placed a hot carafe of coffee down then asked if we were ready.

Dean ordered for me and filled a mug with coffee making it just right and pushing it under my nose, “love the smell of caffeine in the morning.” He grinned and I wrapped my fingers around the warming mug and held my face over the steam. It felt amazing. Maybe he was right, maybe I was coming down with something.

Dean took the newspaper from Sam and opened it. I caught Sam’s eye as he opened his laptop. “I'm fine, maybe not perfectly fine, might need some vitamin c or something.” I rolled my eyes at his overbearing yet adorable concern, “we’ll get cold medicine at the next stop or before we hit the road. You two are worse than my mother.”

He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes and I felt the underlying frisson of tension. “Talk to her lately?”

“Sort of. Still hates my life choices and wants me to go back to school. I told her she should be happy that at least one of us wants her life.”

Sam frowned, “I bet she loved that.” Apparently, Sam still held that fight against her too. Of course, it was a lot like the fight with his dad only the roles were reversed. Sam loved my mother in his own way but he didn't care for any adult telling us what we should do. I agreed wholeheartedly with him.

Sam and I were always more alike in that respect, at least when it came to my mother. I let a lot more go than Sam but I found it difficult to follow my own motto of never staying angry when it came to the woman that brought me into this world. “Well, when she decides to give a damn about what I want then maybe I'll give a damn about what she wants.”

My fingers had tightened to a painful grip around the mug and I stretched them out before laying them back against the heat. Sam must’ve sensed the tension or just gave up and got to work.

The rhythmic tapping on his keyboard was hypnotic along with the symphony around us; the soft clatter of plates, hiss of cooking meats, and the quiet hum of conversation. My head was heavy, my eyelids heavier. I propped my head up on my hand and closed my eyes.

Dean's hand pressed against my lower back, his soft, soothing calm was a blanket over my frazzled nerves. Something I'm not even sure I realized until now. Something was definitely wrong. Sam’s interest spiked and waned then spiked again.

Their voices were soft at first, a little distant. Dean's confusion cut through the fog and I forced my eyes open.

“Elkins. I know that name.” Dean looked at me, “Elkins?”

“What?” It shot through me, vaporizing the fog. “Danny Elkins?”

The confusion rolled through Sam and I stared at the laptop. He turned it around and I skimmed quickly through the story not believing it could possibly be him until my gaze froze on the picture. He was older and age hadn't done him any favors but that was him. “Daniel Elkins was my dad’s best friend. Well, until John but they hadn't…”

Dean glanced at Sam before turning back to me, “he was that crazy hunter…”

I nodded, we hadn't seen him since we were kids and Sam was still a baby. “Vampires were his favorite stories but… well, he was one of the best hunters according to my dad.”

“Whatever happened between them?”

“Nothing. Elkins just liked to work alone. My mom said things were different after I was born and they didn’t see each other as much but my dad still cared about him.” I took a few tentative sips of my coffee then stood up. “I’m going to the bathroom. We should leave right away. Who knows what the police did to his place already.”

I walked calmly toward the bathroom ignoring their loud emotions. I locked the bathroom door behind me and stared into the mirror. I had to wonder if it was the demon, if it was possible it was hunting down anyone who could possibly help us.

I had to push the thought away hoping the damn thing couldn't be that smart, hoping it couldn't be thinking that far ahead, but it had gotten its minions to lay a trap for Dean and Sam before. Who could say this wasn't another?

My mind was firing on all cylinders again but the face I saw in the mirror didn't match.

This was not a good time to get sick.

~~

Sam worked the lock picks on Daniel Elkin’s back door, Dean held the flashlight for him, and I watched the surrounding area. I had brought up that it could be a trap but they weren't ready to buy into it. I wasn't sure if I bought it myself so I couldn't argue but it rolled around in my fogged head anyway.

I was tired again and feeling even more off, so I couldn't completely scratch out paranoia.

The boys walked inside and I took a single step over the threshold. The house was as expected for a hunter; there were powerful wardings I couldn't see, Sam was brushing salt off his fingers, and I could feel the lingering pride. This house was his fortress, a place that had protected him for at least three decades if I remembered correctly.

“His journal is just out in the open.” Dean was standing in front of a messy desk and I strode toward him with Sam on my tail. I glanced down at the pages he was slowly scanning as I moved to the chair and sat down, placing my hands on the desk.

Solitude was clear and present. It matched up with the way my father described him, pride that permeated the house, and a faded, barely above a whisper, pang of loneliness. So many layers of it told me it was something that he struggled with but seemed to handle in some way. It ebbed and flowed maybe he got out enough and spoke with hunters or someone that calmed and tamed it.

I glanced up at Dean, fully absorbed in the journal, and wondered who the lone wolf my father had spoken so highly of spent time with to ease his pain.

I closed my eyes and followed the energy; standing easier than him and walking to the left. I opened my eyes and stood in front of a cluttered bookshelf. Just over my head, a few worn picture frames that would've been right at his eye level. I pulled the middle one down and smiled.

My father was young, probably not much younger than Dean and I were now, his smile wide and carefree with a hand wrapped around a beer and a newspaper in front of him probably some bar in the middle of who knows where. Elkins was beside him in much better condition than the last picture I had seen of him. I could almost hear my dad laughing but I didn't remember the sound anymore. A wave of longing rushed through me and I shut it down.

Dean was suddenly behind me, his hand on my hip, “whatcha got?”

“Not too much. I didn't take down many blocks, just concentrated on some things.” I showed him the picture and he looked at it with a smile.

“Handsome devil.”

I glanced around and didn't see Sam. “Come on.” I tucked the picture into the back of my waistband and walked out of the room. I found Sam in a back hall, his flashlight beam turning into a room.

“Damn,” he stepped inside and Dean followed me down the hall.

I stepped into the room and shoved my nose into the crook of my arm. “Christ.”

Dean slipped around me and they scanned the room with their flashlights commenting on the state of the destruction. There were signs of a struggle with something much more volatile than a normal break-in or even the animal attack the police were blaming it on. Desperation and agony stained the air and something that stung my nose. Acrid and ancient.

Dean touched my side, silently asking if I was okay. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. I knew he died in here, alone desperately trying to say something. My father’s face swam into view and I shoved it away. My dad wasn't alone but his friend had been.

Dean molded to my body, his scent giving me a temporary escape from the room. I touched my forehead to his chest, clung to him with everything in me, and breathed deeply. After the three second reprieve I allowed, I nodded and he moved further into the room again, directly to something that caught his interest.

I blocked the echoes and watched him kneel down in the middle of the mess looking at something on the floor while Sam searched the desk. I slowly picked my way toward Dean worried my blocks wouldn't hold in this room.

“There’s some scratches on the floor.”

“Death throes, maybe?”

“No.” I leaned down next to Dean and he grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil from the desk.

“What..?”

“He didn’t go quick. He had...” I choked on the thought and a silence fell but our emotions filled the room with an almost cleansing feel compared to the stains of hunger and manic joy that turned my stomach. Sadness and grief have their place and they overwhelmed the others squeezing them from the space. Strong emotions accompany any strong ritual and sometimes even without the other ingredients the same result can be achieved.  

Dean held up the piece of paper, “he didn’t go without a fight. He left a message.”

Sam shined his light on it reading the letters and numbers. “A mail drop?”

“Let’s go.” I strode out of the room relieved to have a reason to leave and something else to concentrate on. I didn’t know if I was sick, getting sick, or going to be sick. I just needed out of that space.

~~

The post office had after hours access to its boxes so no alarms went off when Dean picked the lock. I watched them from the front seat as Dean unlocked the box and pulled out a letter. My energy had waned far too quickly and even though I didn’t say it, he already felt it.

I hadn’t been able to sleep much on the drive to Colorado which was hilarious compared to the last two weeks of passing out in the blink of an eye. I was too amped up to find out what happened to my father’s best friend and even though I was tired after the adrenaline left my system, something about the house had put a strain on the reserves I was running on. Maybe it did remind me too much of my father but something else was off and it bothered me that I couldn’t pinpoint it.

The feel in that room, the length that Daniel was held down slowly dying weighed on me like bricks on my chest. There was an imprint in the room, a hunger that was like nothing I’d ever felt before.

The doors opened almost simultaneously, Sam and Dean sat on the front bench squeezing me in between them.

Dean held up the letter, it was addressed to John. I’ve got a part to play. I closed my eyes shaking away the memory but felt that familiar tickle, the energy from the memory approaching. “Don’t open it.”

“Why?”

A knock on Dean’s window made them jump. “That’s why.”

They stared at the window but I put my head down closing my eyes to concentrate on my blocks. John climbed into the backseat and I gripped Dean’s thigh. He laid his hand on top of mine, his energy overpowering the others.

The boys talked with John as I put everything into blocking them yet still the guilt seeped through. It seemed to be a hunter’s top trait, the guilt we took on for everything we actually did and a few things we didn’t.

“Were you friends with him too? I don’t remember you mentioning him.” Sam’s question practically pulsed with heat in the air.

“He was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting.” I could feel John’s gaze on the back of my neck, the apology brewing but I couldn't figure out what for. “We had kind of a falling out. I hadn’t seen him in years.”

The guilt again like a damn freight train packed with so much other baggage I squeezed Dean’s thigh to keep steady, latching onto the energy he pushed my way and tried to shove out the rest of the noise again.

John’s hand squeezed my shoulder, “I’m sorry, Y/n. I don’t know if you remember but…”

“My dad’s friend. He blamed you for dad’s death.” I don’t know where that came from but it rang true. I felt it hit John and that hunter’s trait flared up in me this time. I turned around and looked him in the eye, “but I didn’t. I don't.”

He looked down then glanced at Dean, “I should look at that.” He took the letter from Dean and opened it, reading some of it out loud then asked abruptly if we had found a gun. “A colt revolver. Did you see it?”

The unknown colt trio. The memory slammed into me and I doubled over into Dean’s lap. John had been looking for a gun that could end the demon, the unknown colt trio had come to me from nowhere and Elkins had a colt. This was about the demon, the demon could’ve done this, could be watching right now.

Dean wrapped his arm around me, “you okay?” I shook my head trying in vain to shake it all off. “What is it?”

“A lot. My filters aren’t… I’m just tired. It’s…” everything out of whack.

Sam and John were talking over us and I sat up with Dean’s help then pressed my head into his chest. The back door slammed. I concentrated on Dean’s energy as it surrounded me and I tried to dig further into him.

“We don’t even know what these things are yet.”

I turned my head and met John’s gaze through Dean’s window. He gave me a sympathetic look, “they were what Danny Elkins killed best.”

That hunger finally made sense. “Vampires,” I whispered and John nodded.

“Wait, vampires? You said…”

“I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and…” That soft look crossed his face again, “your father wiped them out. I was wrong.” He looked at me, “you need some rest. I can look for the trail from a motel.” Then he walked away and got in a large truck across the street.

“Wow, that doesn’t blend in or anything,” Sam scoffed.

Dean glanced down at me as he started the car then followed his dad’s lead, not making me move from his chest. John parked in a motel parking lot, got out of his truck, and held up two fingers with a questioning look.

Dean kissed my forehead, climbed out of the car, and walked toward John. I turned to Sam, “it’s going to be okay.” I don’t know why I said it but Sam looked at me, not at all convinced. My frustration rose with his.

“Yeah, feels like old times.” He climbed out of the car and tamed the simmering anger.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I seriously needed some sleep. Things were getting too intense and ever since New York things had been getting out of hand. I knew it was possible that my secret was starting to wreck some havoc. The idea of Dean having to lie was probably eating away me and maybe the whole thing was messing with my sleep. I had been having a hard time keeping up with things that were second nature for two weeks. I couldn't lie about that anymore. I was drained.

Dean’s hand was brushing over my cheek and I turned into it. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

I smiled and let him help me out of the car. I leaned heavily into him as he guided me to the door John held open. “Is she okay?” His concern pounded into my head and I groaned.

“Hasn’t been sleeping well,” Dean replied as he walked me to the first bed. I could tell there was some silent conversation between them that pissed Dean off as I laid down. “No! That’s not… she’s not.” He sighed, “we’re not stupid, dad.”

Dean’s anger flared again and I winced into the pillow.

The door shut and John replied, “get some rest. I’ll wake you when I hear something.”

Dean laid down carefully beside me almost falling off and I leaned up with a smirk, “if you fall off, I’ll fall off.”

He grinned as he moved over and onto his back. I laid my head on his chest and curled around him. I desperately wanted skin to skin but that wasn’t an option. Then his hand snaked up under my shirt and splayed against my back. I sighed into him and slipped my hand under his shirt, knowing it was probably the best I could get right now.

He craned his neck down and kissed the top of my head. Take whatever you need. His voice hummed along my senses. It seemed perfectly normal now.

What’s mine is yours?

His warm laughter vibrated through me, I thought that was established with a big wheel?

Wrapped in our cocoon, sleep crashed in yet again.

~~

“Hey, sweetheart.” His fingers were brushing against my cheek pulling me up from the plush warmth. “I don’t want you to worry but we’ll be back.”

I jerked up instantly, panic gripping me without reason, “no. Don’t leave me.” I grabbed his arm and glanced around the room. We were alone.

“You need some more sleep. We’re just going to check out this nine-one-one call.”

I sat up ignoring Dean’s disapproval, “I’ll sleep in the car.” I met his gaze, “I need to be with you.”

“Okay. If that’s what you need.” He helped me up then grabbed my jacket and slipped it on.

We walked out and Sam was already sitting behind the wheel, baby purring. “You’re coming?”

I nodded and Dean opened the back door, “lay down. I’ll get the blanket from the trunk.”

I climbed in and caught Sam’s gaze in the rearview mirror. His anger sizzled along my skin as worry twisted my stomach. I closed my eyes, “my blocks aren’t working very well.” The sensations cooled almost immediately except for Dean's warm soothing energy.

“Sorry.”

Dean threw the blanket out over me and pulled it up over my shoulders then smoothed it out over my back.

“It’s okay, Sammy. I understand.” A stab of grief and I couldn't figure out who it came from or even if it was mine. That alone scared me.

The door closed and then Dean climbed in the passenger seat whispering to Sam, “try to keep it cool.”

I wanted to say it’s okay but I was too heavy already and sleep swallowed me whole.

~~

It had been a long day. My dad had said that tracking Vampires wasn’t for the faint of heart but what he really meant was it wasn’t for those who got bored easily or liked an action packed hunt. Hunting a vampire’s nest could be long and tedious especially if the leader knew what they were doing. This pack may have had a few loose members that didn’t know well enough what and who to stay away from but their leader knew how to keep them in check.

We had been driving around all day only stopping for food twice when Dean had pushed it and I knew it was for my benefit but I stayed quiet trying to conserve whatever energy I could. Even with the sleep I got in the car, my nerves and senses were still frayed and simple things that I blocked without even noticing were lighting me up like a faulty circuit board especially when it came to Sam.

His frustrations had been building all day and even though he was trying to stay calm, I think that only made it worse. John’s comments here and there about how I shouldn't be anywhere near this case only added fuel to our fire. The whole situation was a ticking time bomb and I knew it would blow sooner rather than later. I would need all the energy I had just to block it out enough not to blow myself.

I was laying down in the back seat again when Dean got the call with another order. I could already feel the lightning coursing up and down my skin. Suddenly, I smacked into the back of the front seat and gripped the leather seat bottom as the car swung around to a stop. I sat up and Sam was already out of the car.

“Fuck. Here we go.” Dean jumped out and ran around the car as Sam yelled at John.

I watched them get in each other’s faces as Dean stood by trying to gage when and how to jump in. The temperature inside the car skyrocketed and I stepped out but stayed against the car. Their anger and frustration painted the air, pulsing out like waves each one crashing into me. I winced as it lit a fuse inside me.

“Alright, you made your point tough guy. Look we’re all tired, we can talk about this in the morning. Sammy, I mean it, come on.”

Sam and Dean walked toward me but the flame only stoked and heightened, licking out along my arms as fresh oxygen blew it into a brighter blaze.

“This is why I left in the first place,” Sam grumbled.

John responded with another wave of anger, fear, shame, and a splash of guilt. Each one was kindling on the fire that they didn’t even know they were building. I pressed my hands and forehead to the car seeking the cold metal for something to counteract it. To smother it.

“You heard me!”

“Yeah. You left!” John spit out and something snapped inside me. I pushed off the car and spun toward the fight. John stalked toward Sam with every word, “your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam.”

I stormed up to John and shoved both hands against his chest, “and you pushed Dean away from me! You did it too! You forced it!” John only fell back a single step but I could see my words hit him then felt the repercussion as Sam pressed up against my back yelling over my head.

“You’re the one who said don’t come back, Dad!”

I realized my mistake far too late as I often do. I was crushed between them as emotions and red hot energies slammed back and forth with a heat that seared my skin.

No.

I turned sideways as I shut my eyes and pressed a hand to each chest trying to shove them away closing down every pathway I could as their rage, pain, fear, and guilt continued to hammer into me.

“Y/n?”

“You walked away!”

“STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU!”

“You were just pissed off that you couldn’t control me anymore!”

The fire throughout my body surged into my chest and gathered intense and tight into a ball but then for a brief brilliant moment, everything went still. I stood with my arms outstretched as far as I could pushing against two forces of nature and holding my own almost in a vacuum where nothing existed. It was silent, peaceful, but at a height that couldn’t last. The eye of a storm, a dangerous place to linger.

That ball in my chest exploded outward with a force of an energy too long contained against its will. I screamed as it burned through my veins and scorched my palms.

Then it was cold, too cold but I was numb, and it was finally silent.

~~

Dean watched it happen in slow motion. He couldn’t believe she jumped in between them but then he felt the ache in the back of his head that pulsed until it wrapped around his entire skull.

No.

He watched her eyes squeeze close, the pain etched on her face before it lanced through his head.

He screamed at the top of his lungs at John and Sam as the dull sensation of something building in his chest told him hers was much worse but they didn’t hear him. They didn’t even see what they were doing to her and it boiled his blood. “FUCKING LOOK AT HER!!”

She opened her mouth and the shriek that split the night air gutted him.

Sam and John were propelled away from her, shot through the air like they weighed nothing, and landed hard somewhere outside his field of vision. He heard the two thuds but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her arms dropped to her sides but her eyes weren’t opening and ice filled his veins. “Y/n!”

He rushed to her, catching her before she could collapse. She was dead weight in his arms. The ache in his head was gone but so was her warmth. Too much silence, too much… nothing. “Talk to me, come on, I’m right here. I’ve got you. Y/n!”

The quiet hum that always ran pleasantly along his veins at her touch since he was seventeen was missing. He panicked, “Y/n! Please say something.” He knelt down careful with her body then kissed her, needing to feel any sign of the bond. I'm here. I've got you. Please be here.

The silence stretched on and pressed down on him like a thick, heavy blanket. He held her tighter seeking her out with every thread of his being. Please.

I’m so tired, so tired. Her voice was soft and warm and the hum flickered along his skin like a thready heartbeat.

He kissed her forehead and finally took the breath his lungs were screaming for as he hugged her tightly. “It’s okay. Rest but stay with me. Please stay.”

Don’t let go.

He closed his eyes and choked out, “never.”

Sam knelt down beside Dean, “I’m sorry.”

Dean threw a hard look at his brother then up at John. “She just wanted you to stop. You two overwhelmed her with your macho bullshit.” He glanced at Sam, “next time you two decide to be the loudest pricks in the yard, do it away from her.” He looked down at her face, his jaw clenching painfully at the tension in her brow. “You both know how it is for her.”

“Has she ever done that before?” John asked.

Dean shook his head and scoffed, “not that you deserve an answer, but no. She’s never moved things like that but this year... has brought a lot of changes.” Dean scooped her up and Sam helped him stand then moved ahead to the back door of the Impala.

Sam opened the back door then moved around to the other side and helped Dean lay her down inside as much as he could.

When Dean stood up and shut the door, John was standing behind him.  “I’m sorry.”

Dean turned, not believing his own hearing, “what?”

“I’m sorry for breaking you two apart.” John’s gaze dropped to the back window. “That girl has always brought out the best in you and… I’m a damn fool for being too damn stubborn to acknowledge it. And for thinking I was protecting you two. My time of being that person is over. You are so much more than I was at your age, both of you.” He met Sam’s gaze over the roof of the car, “I’m sorry.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other then back to their father. “Thanks.”

Dean cleared his throat, “I’m taking her back to the motel. You two can find the nest and call me.”

Sam looked at Dean as he moved around the car, “are you sure?”

“She needs some real sleep and you two are blasting amps of rage.”

Sam gave him an apologetic smile and opened the driver side door, “I want her to get whatever she needs and I know that’s you.”

Dean tapped Sam’s hand on the car door, “she doesn’t want you two fighting because she knows how quickly this could all end.” Dean glanced at his dad and nodded before getting in the car.

He drove away without a look back ignoring his racing heart and the fear still twisting his insides. That warmth in the back of his head he'd grown accustomed to since that night in Roy LaGrange’s parking lot was too faint, too quiet. It unnerved him.

He looked into the rearview mirror and moved it so he could see her. It was too dark to make out anything except her shape on the tan leather. He refocused on the road but looked back when he passed under the next street light. Her brow had smoothed out making her look more at peace but he still couldn't feel her like he should. It more than unnerved him, it frightened him.

He fixed the rearview mirror and focused on the road. He just needed to get to the motel and get their clothes off. The sooner they were skin to skin, the better things would be, she always felt better after that.

Her head rested on his chest with her fingers dancing over his skin just in front of her face. “Does it ever feel like… this charges your batteries? More than anything else?”

At the time he had thought she was talking about the sex and even though he couldn't remember what he said it was probably some idiotic ‘we should do it more’ response. They were eighteen and as much as he loved her, he was still mostly raging hormones.

It wasn't until a few months later that he understood what she was saying that night, when he finally got it. She was always the first to figure things out but this time, it might need to be him.

Fourteen

A/N: Please excuse any errors. My favorite grammar/spell checker extension doesn’t work on my new laptop or I just haven’t figured it out yet. :(  I don’t think I realized how lazy I got with that until I realized it wasn’t on here.  

@duchessofwinchester , @jodyri , @jencharlan , @deanssweetheart23 @torn-and-frayed , @chrisatplay , @mogaruke , @captainemwinchester  , @ashrod98 , @mrswhozeewhatsis , @caitsymichelle13  , @escabell , @thealyana

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Bloody Mary- Part 2

Pairing: Eventual Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,726

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, angst, language, minor character death, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Please, if you want to be tagged for this series, let me know and I’ll add you! If you want to be tagged for my other fics, I’ll add you! I want to hear what you guys think about this.

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom

Part One

Your name: submit What is this?

It didn’t take much time to get over there and you were glad they were having an open house for the memorial. That made things a lot easier. Once inside, you bit your lip, immediately feeling out of place. Everyone was wearing nice, black clothes and you plus the Winchesters, weren’t.

“Feel like we’re underdressed.” Dean said from behind you.

“That’s because we are but let’s just find the daughter.” You looked to see the dead man’s picture on the table when you first walked in but didn’t pay too much attention to it. You didn’t know which one was her so you tapped on an older gentleman’s shoulder and gave him a smile.

“Hi, I’m looking for Donna Shoemaker. Could you please point her out for me?” You smiled and he nodded, taking you and the boys outside to the backyard. He lifted his finger and pointed to a group of girls in the corner, sitting on some chairs.

“Thank you.” You smiled and walked towards her. The one to your back, a blonde, looked up and when she saw the Winchesters, her mouth popped open in shock. You had to resist an eyeroll at her childish behavior. Yeah, they are very attractive. You move on and let it go.

“You must be Donna.” You smiled politely. She was a short girl, from what you could tell, with dark, short hair. She was sitting next to another blonde who was holding her hand in a comforting way.

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“Hi, we’re really sorry.” Sam said with sorrow laced in his tone.

“Thank you.” Donna nodded.

“I’m Sam, this is Dean and that’s Y/N. We worked with your dad.” You saw Donna look at her blonde friend that was sitting next to her with a confused look.

“You did?”

“Yeah. I mean, with everything happening, a stroke is unexpected.” Dean said.

“I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now.” Her blonde friend said with an attitude. You looked over at a much younger girl who you assumed to be Donna’s little sister but once you made eye contact, she looked away.

“It's okay, I'm okay.” Donna nodded. She was trying to be strong.

“Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?” Sam wondered.

“No.” Donna shrugged. The youngest girl turned around and scolded her bigger sister.

“That’s because it wasn’t a stroke.”

“Lily, don’t say that.” Donna looked at her sister.

“What?” You looked at Donna.

“I’m sorry, she’s just upset.” You nodded but you thought something else was going on.

“No, it happened because of me.” Lily said.

“Sweetie, it didn’t.” Donna tried to comfort her sister. It was natural to think you were the cause of a loved one’d death. You know you certainly blamed yourself for a while because your mom died.

“Lily,” You said softly, getting down to her eye level. “Why would you say something like that?” You were the one that always tried to get a person who was hurting to talk because between you and the boys, you were the more empathic one. Not that Dean or Sam was, but you were the more likely option.

“Right before he died, I said it.” Lily said in a small voice.

“You said what?”

“Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror,” She sighed. “She took his eyes because that is what she does.”

“That’s not why dad died. This isn’t your fault.” Donna spoke up.

“I think your sister's right, Lily. There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?” Dean asked.

“No, I don’t think so.” You looked at Lily before getting up. You knew she thought otherwise and you knew something was going on. Steven Shoemaker didn’t die an ordinary death.

“Thank you for your time and I’m sorry we disturbed you.” You smiled at Donna and moved past the boys, glancing at the girl who could not stop staring at them. When you were away from them, you rolled your eyes. Slut. You thought any girl who oogled at Dean was a slut. You heard heavy footsteps follow you and you walked inside the house.

“Bloody Mary? You’ve got to be kidding me. That was a scare tactic used when I was a kid.” You looked at Dean and Sam. You decided to look upstairs where the dad was found so when no one was looking, you slipped up the steps stealthy.

You walked up the steps and looked at the mirrors that were hanging on the wall.

“It does seem a bit weird but, Y/N, come on, this is our lives we’re taking about. Weird happens all the time.” Dean stated. You saw a door with blood stains on the carpet right outside and you knew it was the bathroom. You pushed open the door and saw some dried blood was still on the floor.

“The Bloody Mary legend... Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?” Sam asked. It was natural to call John your dad as well because that is what he felt like.

“Not that I know of.” Dean shrugged. Dean turned on the light and advanced inside, you staying outside. You were terrified of this woman all your childhood. It was pure luck on your part that you would get a case involving her. Sam stooped down to the ground and touched the dried blood, wiping it off when he looked at it.

“I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it.” Sam got up and walked inside. Sam said her name twice, he better not say it again. You were scared now about this case but wouldn’t let it show.

“Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening.” You said from the door.

“The place where the legend began?” Sam looked at you then back at his brother. Dean shrugged and opened the medicine cabinet, letting the mirror face Sam.

“But according to the legend, the person who says,” he looked at the mirror to see himself and he rolled his eyes, shutting the mirror so it wouldn’t face him. “The person who says you know what gets it. But here…”

“Shoemaker gets it instead.” Dean finished for him.

“Right,” You said softly. “Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you know who scratches your eyes out.”

“It’s worth checking into.” Sam sighed. You three exited the bathroom but come face to face with Donna’s friend from downstairs. At least she wasn’t the friend who stared too much.

“What are you doing up here?” She scolded you.

“We had to go to the bathroom.” You hung your head slightly. It was weird for three grown ass adults to say that, especially when two of them were brothers and one of them was a girl.

“Who are you?” You knew she suspected you.

“Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad.” Dean said calmly.

“He was a day trader or something; he worked by himself.” She crossed her arms.

“No, I know, I meant,” Dean was cut off.

“And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So, you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming.” You narrowed your eyes at her threat.

“All right, all right. We think something happened to Donna's dad.” Sam sighed, giving in. You put your hand to the bridge of your nose but didn’t say a word. One rule of hunting: never get people involved.

“Yeah, a stroke.” She shrugged.

“That's not a sign of a typical stroke. We think it might be something else.” Sam argued.

“Like what?” She wondered.

“Like none of your damn business.” That is what you would like to have said but you kept your mouth shut.

“Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth.” Dean said.

“So, if you're going to scream, go right ahead.” You said, looking at her.

“Who are you, cops?” She stared at you. That is when a lightbulb went off.

“Yeah, something like that,” You smiled softly, answering for the boys. “I’ll tell you what, take my number and if anything new pops up, please, give me a call.” You took out a pen and paper and scribbled your name and number down, handing it to her. You looked at the boys and nodded to them, walking away from the girl and down the stairs. You quickly got out of the house.

“We should hit the library and look into you know who.” Sam said when he reached the Impala. You nodded, agreeing with him and getting inside. Once all three of you were seated, Dean took off and went to the library that Sam saw when they were on their way to Donna’s house.

“Alright, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's going to be some sort of proof—Like a local woman who died nasty.” Dean said, parking the car. He got out as did you and Sam, following him into the library.

“Wow,” you said shocked.

“What?” Dean and Sam both looked back at you.

“Dean Winchester is in a library.” You smirked and giggled teasing him.

“Shut up.” He grumbled, walking further inside.

“So, this isn’t going to be tough. I mean, there are more than 50 versions of who she really was. Some say she’s a witch, maybe a mutilated bride, but there is a lot more.” Sam said.

“Alright, so what are we supposed to be looking for?” Dean asked.

“Every versions got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So, we've gotta search local newspapers and public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a match.” You stated, walking past them and to one of the computers.

“That sounds annoying.” Dean complained.

“No, it won’t be so bad, as long as we…” He sighed when you cursed. You saw all the computers with signs on them saying that they were all out of order. “I take it back, this will be very annoying.”

Part Three

Masterlist // Series Rewrite Masterlist // Buy me a Coffee?

Series Rewrite tags:

@helllonearth @amyisabellal @deanwnchstr @caseykitten6 @roxalya19 @quixoticcat

Forever tags:

@love-like-lies @maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith @mogaruke @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes

Dean tags:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester​ @winchesterandpie​

Other tags:

@jensen-jarpad @notnaturalanahi @deathtonormalcy56 @27bmm

[demondean-for-kingofhell]

86′ed Part 7 (Final)

Summary: Set between seasons 5 and 6. Dean has lost everyone he cared about. You’re running from your own past and end up working in a diner, where he just happens to stumble in one day.

Warnings: major character injury/death, swearing, lots of Dean sadness. 

PART 1     PART 2     PART 3     PART 4     PART 5     PART 6  

Dean tossed one more glance over his shoulder at Sam, who was tied to a chair, before tossing the match into the bowl.

The ingredients flared up, the fire burning white hot for about a minute.

“Dean, please don’t do this!” Sam tugged at his restraints futilely, his eyes flickering to the tall, thin man that had appeared at the other end of the room. As his presence encompassed the brothers the background noise evaporated, leaving an eerie silence filled with only the sound of the stranger’s heels clicking on the wooden floorboards.

“Dean, haven’t I told you I’m not to be summoned like a dog?” Death brushed a piece of invisible lint off of his shoulder.

“I know, I know. But it’s-”

“Your brother. Isn’t it always?” Death looked down at the floor and let out a deep, almost bored sigh, “What other reason would you have called me here at this ungodly hour?”  Raising his cane he pointed evenly at the bag full of greasy food Dean had brought, moving forward when Dean nodded his consent.

“Fried pickles. Best this side of the Mississippi.” Dean shot Sam a glare when the younger Winchester started to speak.

“So, what predictable predicament has your little brother landed in this time?” Death sat at the kitchenette table in the cheap motel Dean had rented.

“His soul.”  Dean was too nervous to sit, his pacing was sure to wear a path into the floor.

“Cas brought him back from Hell without his soul.”

“Well, Dean.” Death pulled a cardboard carton out of the bag, popping one of the pickle slices into his mouth. “These are delicious little morsels, but certainly not worth the trouble of fetching the mangled chew toy of angels.”

Dean grit his teeth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Look, you gotta help me. He can’t walk around without his soul!”

Death was quiet for several minutes, eyeing Dean and inhaling the grease from the fried pickles. “I can get your brother’s soul back.”

“Really?” Dean sighed in relief, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Than-”

“I didn’t say I would. I said I could.” Death cut him off with a scowl.

Dean sighed in aggravation. “What do you want in return?”

“I don’t ever remember having fried pickles without ranch dressing Dean.” Death wiped his hands disdainfully on the paper napkin and flicked it carelessly onto the table, “Where did you pick these up?”

“Are you being serious right now?” Dean’s eyebrows were nearly in his hairline, his eyes wide in confusion. “Ranch?”

Death leveled a gaze at the older Winchester that would have withered crops.

“Fine!” Dean threw his hands up in the air, “You got it.”

“Hold on a second!” Sam finally spoke up, “Are you really gonna trade my soul for a cup of friggin’ ranch dressing right now?”

Dean clapped Sam on the back as he passed by on his way out the front door, “The man needs his condiments Sammy.”

Sam hung his head and groaned, thrashing against the ropes.

“Honestly Sam,” Death raised his voice to cover the distance between them, “even if you did get out of those ropes….where would you go?”

Sam stopped struggling and returned the even stare. “I never liked you.”

Death only smiled benignly at him.

Dean came back about twenty minutes later to find both Death and Sam gone, and no idea where the latter would be. A sinking feeling hit his stomach and he cursed out loud, kicking the now splintered chair that Sam had broken to get away.

“Think, Dean. Think.” He could waste time trying to find him, or he could sit and watch Y/N’s house until he showed up. He muttered a murderous, “Son of a bitch,” before grabbing his car keys.

It had been nearly a week since both of the brothers had walked out of your apartment, though you didn’t remember them leaving. The...whatever that Cas guys was...had taken care of that. They hadn’t called or texted. It was like they fell off the face of the Earth.

You jumped at the knock on your apartment door. The only people that knew your address other than Ellen and Frank were-

“Y/N!” Sam’s face split into a grin. “Can I come in?”

“Uh…” something wasn’t quite right about his smile. Although...it never really was from the beginning was it? “Sure, come on in.” You stepped back and he filled the doorway with his shoulders. “So? What now?” You weren’t exactly thrilled to see him, after all.

“What do you mean?” he looked half confused, leaning casually against your living room wall.

“What’s your excuse? Your idiot brother didn’t tell me a damn thing. So what’ve you got for me?”

“Oh...well, we uh…” he gave an almost embarrassed sort of chuckle and your gut wrenched. Something was up. “Would you believe me if I told you we hunt evil?”

Before you could respond with how crazy that sounded he was talking again. “Of course it doesn’t really matter. I’m not here to offer an explanation. I’m here to keep a promise.” there was a silver glint as his arm moved and he had a gun pointed at you. “See...I think Dean likes you. And I will be damned if I lose Sam’s brother over some bitch.”

“I haven’t even heard from Dean!” you were trying to put as much space between you and Sam as the tiny apartment allowed. “Sam! What are you doing?”

Before you could try to reason more with Sam the front door slammed open and Dean was bursting through, a gun pointed at his brother. “Y/N, you okay?”

“Define okay,” You backed up again and your back hit the wall. “Dean what the fuck is going on?”

His eyes flickered to you; he was debating telling you the truth. It was written all over his face. Just as quickly, so fast you may have imagined it, his eyes were back on his brother. “Come on, Sam.”

“Dean!” You couldn’t believe he was ignoring you.

“Look, Y/N, this is shit that’s outside of your comprehension. Shit you’ve never seen before. Just…please, stay out of it.”

“Stay out of it?” You repeated through clenched teeth. “You two keep showing up where I work, where I live, and you want me to stay out of it?”

Dean gave you a pleading look, his gun still trained on Sam, who in turn still had his gun trained on you. “Sam! She’s innocent! She hasn’t done anything to deserve this!”

“But I warned you, didn’t I?” Sam’s voice was the opposite of Dean’s, calm, cool, collected. He shot you a sideways glance, a little satisfied smile on his face.

A single shot rang out in the apartment.

You and Dean both physically jumped.

For one blissful moment you thought he’d missed. Until your hands went to your torso, and you could feel the sticky hot liquid spreading across your shirt, down your skin.

“No,” Dean was the first to act, and you got the fleeting impression he took the first move a lot, but you couldn’t focus on anything else except the pain in your chest, and you realized you were on your knees when you saw Dean sink to the floor.

“No no no Y/N!?” He grabbed your face, dragging your eyes up from where they were stuck to the blood on your shirt. “Hey hey, you’re gonna be okay, it’s okay. It’s not that bad, okay? We’ll call an ambulance, and-no no no no!”

Your head had fallen forward when he let go of your face to get his phone. “Please, just-” He dialed 911, nearly in a panic as he told the operator your address and that you had a gunshot wound to the chest. “Help is on the way, Y/N. Just hang on.”

Dean’s grief stricken expression was the last thing you saw before it all went black.

You woke up in the hospital. Bright lights made your eyes close the second they opened. With a groan you tried to sit up, only to be pushed gently back down by the nurse. “No, sweetie. Just relax.”

“What happened?” Your chest ached; your head was pounding.

“You were shot, Hon.” she fixed your pillows behind you after raising the back of your bed so you were sitting up. “You need rest.”

But you didn’t want to rest. Your gaze traveled the room, and landed on an arrangement of sunflowers in a vase by the window. “Who sent those?”

“There wasn’t a name.” she pursed her lips, as if debating whether to tell you something.

“But…?”

“The note,” she handed it to you, and even though you didn’t recognize the handwriting you knew the two simple words were from Dean. 

“I’m sorry…” you muttered darkly, crumpling the small card and tossing it back onto the table next to your bed. “Not yet he isn’t.”

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