#but yeah i think in latine winchesters well at least mixed latine winchesters sam struggles with not knowing spanish as well as dean

[urboymutual]

i need a penny in my back pocket for good luck

this a fic about latine winchesters, more specifically sam’s disconnection from spanish as i headcanon him as not being fluent in spanish as compared to dean. 

sobrenatural day 2: language

the radio is playing some tex-mex song when they finally pass the welcome to texas sign. sam blearily rubs at his eyes, the sun shining down brightly on him. surprisingly, dean is singing along like it’s any old led zeppelin song on the radio.

“i didn’t know you liked this kind of music,” sam says, eyeing dean wearily as he watches him pull off the highway onto a dusty side road.

dean’s in the middle of the chorus singing- “lo que hicistes fue muy fatal”- when he finally replies.

“i’m not that white washed sammy,” dean jokes. “‘sides i’ve hunted a few times in texas, and sometimes you kinda pick that stuff up.”

dean’s joke about being white washed cuts through sam and he frowns. it’s not like he wants to be some type of stuffy, first generation “no sabo” kid. sam wants to know what dean’s singing along to, wants to know what “ya voy a quemar esta ilución” means, and maybe wants to sing along himself. instead, he rests his head on the passenger window and heat stinging his scalp. 

– ☆ – 

they pull into a parking lot of a taqueria with a few ghoul guts staining their shirts. dean pointed out the taqueria on their way to the cemetery, pointed out how the faded “ria” and one broken window meant the food was going to be very good. 

“it’s the hole in the wall kinda place, bet you the menu won’t even be in english,” dean said and sam shifted uncomfortably. 

they enter the restaurant and are quickly greeted by a woman behind the counter. “hola,” she says, a big smile on her face and wrinkles by her eyes to emphasize the authenticity of the smile. she looks very motherly, putting the virgen de guadalupe pictures hanging on the restaurant's walls to shame. 

sam shifts uncomfortably, again, as a weird feeling stirs in his gut. she almost reminds him of his mom. 

“¿qué te gustaría comer, chicos?” she-- sam assumes-- asks. dean’s already turning to sam, ready to ask the same thing but in english. sam beats him to it. 

“just get me three chicken tacos with lime and avocado,” sam tells him. then he awkwardly adds, “and uh- una soda de naranja.” he winces at the way the r’s roll off his tongue and he can see dean has a teasing look in his eyes. sam knows he’s going to be hearing “nar-rang-ha” in a pale imitation of his voice all the way back to the motel. 

dean turns back to the woman with a charming smile on his face and begins to order in spanish for the both of them. 

sam makes his way to one of the empty tables, resting his head in his hands as another virgen de guadalupe poster on the wall stares down at him disappointed. 

dean returns with a cheap table number marker and what seems to be a churro, he’s still eating it when he tries to talk. 

“heespank mosh loge me,” he says. well, this is one language sam knows how to translate. “hispanic moms love me,” is what dean actually means to say. 

“don’t talk with your mouth full, you’re getting cinnamon everywhere.” sam replies, nose wrinkled in distaste. 

dean flashes him a grin, showing off both his teeth and the food piling in his mouth. “you’re just jealous carla likes me more than you,” dean quips, this time without his mouthful. 

sam frowns, turning his head to look outside to hide his frown. “yeah,” he wants to say. “i am jealous because maybe if i could speak to her in spanish, she’d like me too.” 

– ☆ –

“ugh,” dean groans with his pinky in his ear, picking around. “i think i got ghoul guts in my ear.” he takes his pinky out of his ear to inspect it– and yup, sure thing there seems to be black goo on his finger. 

“that’s so gross dude,” sam frowns. he hesitates before putting his own pinky in his ear to see if he has some too. luckily, he seems spared. 

“that’s what happens when you play bait,” dean replies. “you get up close and personal with these douchebags and the next thing you know, your brother is shotting it in the fucking head and it’s guts are all over you.” 

“sorry,” it’s a half hearted reply, a tiny sly smirk on sam’s face. 

“yeah, thanks,” dean rolls his eyes. “that’s why i’m showering first.” he swings open the motel room door after turning the key and beelines towards the bathroom, dropping his stuff as he goes. 

“no wait!” sam calls out, trying to get there first but almost tripping on dean’s discard stuff. he is met with a door slamming in his face. “yeah, well i have ghoul in my hair.” sam mutters under his breath as he makes his way to his bed. 

he doesn’t bother laying down in bed, instead he sets his stuff down and grabs a five out dean’s wallet. closing the motel door behind him, sam heads to the vending machine for a water and small snack. 

unfortunately, a sign posted on the vending machine reads “no funciona” which sam is able to piece together as “not working” with his bare minimum spanish knowledge. so instead he makes his way to the front desk where he remembers the motel desk clerk was selling snacks. 

its a short walk in the warm texan night and sam wonders how much darker he’s going to get from being out in the sun all day. his right hand unconsciously pulls the sleeves of his hoodie down more to cover his skin. its natural, too natural like walking. 

the door of the motel lobby makes a loud ding sound when he enters and the desk clerk greets him with a wave. he nods back, small smile on his face as he reads the snack menu. it’s all in spanish though. the basic words “agua” “papas fritas” “galletas” and “jugo” sticking out to him. 

sam clears his throat awkwardly to get the desk clerk to look up from his magazine. “um puedo- puedas dame un agua y galletas?” he asks in his broken spanish. the desk clerk nods, grabbing a water bottle and a bag from under the desk.

“es-” the desk clerk starts. “is 3.50 dollars” he continues, switching to english for sam’s benefit which only makes sam frown. 

he places the 5$ bill in the man’s hand before hurrying off with his stuff, not bothering with the change. how would he even say it in spanish? es por tu? he shakes his head at himself as he fiddles with the motel key. 

the door to his and dean’s room finally opens where dean is sitting on the bed freshly showered and chewing on some beef jerky. “hey,” he calls out. the television is playing some type of mexican telenovela, a lady screams angrily in spanish and sam doesn’t even bother to tease dean about his television choice. 

instead he just flops down into one of the motel chairs with his own snack, the bag crinkling as he opens it. 

then he wonders why god is so cruelly punishing him for not knowing spanish when he realizes galletas mean cookies. not chips. and all he wanted were chips. 

– ☆ –

sam wakes up to arguing– arguing in spanish and he wonders if dean forgot to turn off the tv last night. but no, it’s just dean and cas arguing in spanish which makes sam frown. he doesn’t like being kept in the dark and dean knows his spanish isn’t good enough to follow the current conversation. 

it’s like rapid fire, once the words are uttered from castiel’s mouth dean is already three words into a new sentence. 

“yo soy! lo estoy vigilando!” dean argues, scowl on his face which just seems to set castiel of more. 

“todavía puedo olerlo.la sangre del demonio sobre él.” castiel fires back.

an uncomfortable feeling settles in sam’s stomach, the feeling usually makes it’s self known when castiel is speaking spanish. he feels almost like… a bratty child of some sorts and spanish is a toy he desperately wants. sam’s internally screaming at cas, “not fair! gimme, gimme!” he just wants to speak spanish too. 

it isn’t fair castiel, with his angelic abilities is able to speak any language in the world. “you can have the others, cas. just let me have this one language.” he thinks.

castiel must of sensed that sam was finally awake because he turns away from dean– dean who is in mid sentence- to say “good morning, sam.” 

“uh, hi, cas. good morning to you.” he says awkwardly, slight red on his cheeks from getting caught eyes dropping. (if you can even call it that.) 

“yeah, uh good morning sam. listen i was just telling dickless here that you-” before dean can finish, there is the slight fluttering sound of wings and castiel is gone. 

“hijo de puta!” dean swears at cas’s disappearing act. 

at least sam knows those words, in fact he knows 10 ways to cuss in spanish because dean thought it would be funny to teach 10 year old sam swear words. sam wishes dean taught him more. 

“just get your stuff, we have another hunt. up in idaho.” dean scrubs at his face, exasperated. he moves to pack up his own stuff and to slide on his boots. 

sam copies him, throwing his dirty shirt in his backpack and pulling out a new pair of socks. he’s almost done when he notices that he can’t find his phone. the last place he remembers leaving it was on the motel nightstand but it seems to be gone. “dean” he calls out while he looks. 

“ya?” dean replies from the bathroom, obviously brushing his teeth. 

“did you see where-” he pauses as he notices a small book in the nightstand drawer. it reads “spanish-english dictionary” in black bold letters against the yellow cover. it only takes him a moment to decide to slip it into his hoodie pocket. and his phone flashes with an incoming email allowing him to notice it fell on the ground beside the nightstand. 

“what did you want?” dean asks, poking his head out of the bathroom. 

“nothing, are you ready?” 

“just washing my hands,” he replies. 

sam heads out to the car, backpack slung over his shoulder and his right hand gripping the spanish-english dictionary tight in his pocket. like it would fall out and alert everyone in the nearby vicinity that he was “one bad latino who didn’t even know spanish.” 

at the car, he quickly opens the trunk and moving stuff around to reach for a crusty looking book that reads “law for dummies” a gag gift dean got him for his birthday once. its large enough to hide the small spanish-english dictionary. he carelessly throws his backpack in the trunk before sitting in the passenger seat. 

“finally putting that book to good use huh?” dean jokes as he slides into the drivers seat and notices sam’s book. 

“yeah.” he mumbles as the car roars to a start and they are back on the road again. 

sam looks down at his spanish-english dictionary, flipping it open to a random page and the first word he sees reads. 

learn-aprender

[imagine-it-like-this]

Title: The Rescue Characters: Rowena, Sam, Dean, Castiel, reader Relationships: Rowena/reader Genres: Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Fluff, Whump

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

Asking the Winchesters for help was the last thing I wanted, but when shit hit the fan, I had no other option but to frantically beat on their door until they let me in and plead for their help like some kind of street beggar.

I knew hunters were there to kill the so called monsters, however, I stupidly thought that only applied to monsters that were doing actual harm. Rowena and I had just finished shopping when they'd jumped us in the parking lot behind the mall. One moment I was telling her how I couldn't wait to see her in that dress she'd just bought, and the next a chain was wrapped around my neck, squeezing tightly.

"I got her," one of the men, a big, bulky bald one, said, firmly holding onto Rowena. He pointed to one of her wrists where a magic-blocking cuff had been placed, grinning like a child who'd just gotten their favorite toy for Christmas.

Just as the hunter who held me slipped the same cuff onto me, Rowena, struggling against the man's strong grip, managed to free herself and, grabbing his chain, whacked my captor in the face, knocking him down.

"Run!" she commanded in a voice that left no room for argument, but that didn't mean I wouldn't try.

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine. Go, darlin'!" she told me just as the third hunter, a bald guy with a mustache, grabbed her neck.

So I did. I ran for my life, ran as fast as I could and never looked back. I heard two of the guys' heavy footsteps, but after a kilometer or so they'd stopped, fading into the busy traffic's noise.

At first I thought of going to Crowley, but I wasn't sure whether he'd be interested in helping his mother; the last time they saw one another, they parted on bad terms, to say the least.

So I decided to go to the Winchesters. They weren't my favorite people in the world, but they owed Rowena for helping them, and from what I've seen, my girl and the whacko brothers seemed to be getting along well as of late.

They worked on removing the cuff on my hand while I rambled on about what happened, still in panic. It took a few glasses of water and a small, round white pill Sam swore wasn't poison to calm me down and get me to explain everything semi-coherently.

Much to my surprise, the brothers jumped at the chance to help me. That alone was enough for me to burst into tears once again and bury my head into Sam's firm chest, spilling out all the ways my life would suck without Rowena in it and muttering heartfelt expressions of gratitude.

Dean looked at me sympathetically, telling me how tough my girl was and assuring me they'd find her alive.

I noted that he – purposely, if his serious tone was to believe – didn't say unharmed.

The brothers were kind enough to get me ingredients for a locator spell, and as soon as my magic pointed in the right direction, we were out the door and on our way to my girl.

The place they held her in was remote, just outside the small, dirty town whose name I didn't bother to remember. The building was old, its walls charred and cracked, surrounded by tall, unkempt grass that was surely the home of spiders and snakes that I really hoped I wouldn't come across tonight. I was already scared enough as it was.

We carefully approached the heavy door; Sam and Dean walked in front of me, guns drawn, motioning for me to carefully follow. I summoned my magic just in case, ready to cast a spell at even the mere thought of danger. If Rowena had taught me anything, it was that you can never be too careful.

Shouting echoed from inside, a mixture of voices spewing threats and insults. I couldn't make out every single word, but those I could sent cold shivers down my spine, my fists instinctively balling into angry fists as my protective instincts kicked in. They were going to pay for that. They were going to pay for everything. That much I promised.

Rowena's faint voice shouted back, defiance clear in her firm tone, and a tinge of pride blossomed in my heart. That's my girl, I thought. They could do their worst, but she would never be defeated.

After Lucifer, she'd promised she would never let people play her, and so far she was making good on it.

They shouted something at her, then a loud sound resembling a smack was heard, followed by a thud accompanied by a scream that was undoubtedly Rowena's. Widening my eyes, fear mixed with anger rushing through my veins, I ran towards the door, only to be pulled back by strong, muscular arms.

"Let us take care of this," Dean told me as I struggled against his grip, tears prickling at my eyes.

"They're hurting her," I said, swallowing a huge lump that formed in my throat.

"I know," he said softly. "We got this. Let us do our job."

Reluctantly, I gave in, allowing them to do as they wished. Rescuing Rowena was the most important thing. Who did it and how mattered not.

When they, after what seemed like forever of tiptoeing and muttering amongst themselves, burst through the door, I wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted my eyes.

Rowena was laying on the floor, writhing in pain, her hands protectively clutching her stomach as if preparing for another blow. Her dress, a slim, purple gown I'd picked for her this morning, was torn apart, its tattered pieces lying in blood that pooled around her, framing her weakened form. Her hair, always so beautiful and kept, was a mess, caked with blood and dirt.

Her face was a mess of cuts and bruises, framed with blood both fresh and old. The exposed skin of her arms and legs bore purple bruises, and the mere thought of what they had to do to her to cause that made me grit my teeth in anger.

It was when I noticed the burly, bald guy's pants loosely hanging on his hips, and my eyes, fearing the worst, fell upon a discarded belt lying next to Rowena's broken form, that pure, unstoppable fury exploded within me.

I put my hands up, chanting Latin words I knew by heart; the three hunters that had so mercilessly hurt her erupted into nightmarish screams, clutching their temples as they fell to their knees. Blood poured out their eyes, mouths and ears, their heads flashing deep, scarlet red, as acid-like heat burned through their bodies before finally, with a few final, goodbye screams, they collapsed to the cold floor, their molten skin sliding off their bones into a messy heap of gore.

I expected Sam and Dean to object, but, strangely, they kept quiet throughout the entire ordeal, staring at the men's remains in disgust. They may not have liked supernatural creatures, but what those monsters – because hunters is too tame a word for them – did to my girl entitled them to the worst kind of punishment that I was all too eager to inflict.

Not that I would have given a damn about their protests, if there were any. Hurt my girl, and you're dead. That was my motto. And if the Winchesters tried to stop me, I would have found a way to shut them up.

"Rowena!" I called out, rushing over to her. I knelt down next to her, gently pushing stray locks off her face so I could look her in the eye. She was bruised and bloody, in very obvious pain, but from what I could see, she would live. She was tough, my girl, just as Dean had said. It would take more than three measly hunters to fuck her up for good.

"Y/N," she said, her voice a mere whisper.

"I'm here, sweetheart," I told her, reaching for her hand to reassure her. "I'm here. You're safe. They can't hurt you anymore."

She squeezed my hand with all her remaining strength. "Ye came for me."

"Of course I did! I promised I'd never leave you, remember? You know I don't break my promises."

Especially promises I made to her.

It broke my heart to think she doubted I'd bother coming to her rescue. She was still getting used to people caring about her; getting used to me, to our relationship, to my love and devotion that she was more than worthy of. She rarely showed her vulnerable side, but when she did, it was a heartbreaking sight.

Leaning over to me for support, she shot herself up into a seating position, wincing in pain as her wounds protested her movements. I wrapped an arm around her, careful not to hurt her, my other hand still clutching hers.

"Remove this, will ye?" She motioned to a magic-binding cuff adorning her wrist.

I did as told, unhooking the cuff from her bruised wrist. She took a deep breath of relief as the metal fell with a small clunk, and magic, finally free, exploded inside of her, filling her veins as it rushed through them.

"Better?" I asked.

"A bit," she breathed, then her eyes filled with tears. "It hurts."

"I know, honey," I said sweetly, pulling her to me to envelop her in a hug.

She pressed her head to my chest and I started rubbing soft circles on her back, doing my best not to cause her any unnecessary pain for hell knows she'd had enough.

"I know it hurts, but you have to stay strong for just a bit. It will be okay. I got you.” I turned to Sam and Dean for a moment, sending them a hopeful look. "Can Castiel heal her?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "Of course."

"I'll call him," Dean offered, already punching the numbers in his phone and walking out to make the call in peace.

"Thank you," I said, tears filling my own eyes.

"It's not a problem," Sam assured me. "We should go. I think she'll be much more comfortable in the bunker."

I nodded. "You hear that?" I whispered to Rowena. "You'll be okay. Castiel will heal you."

"Aye," she replied. "Ye're an idiot, y'know?"

"How so?"

"Comin' for me. Askin' the Winchesters for help." She said their name as though it were foul.

"I'm okay with that," I told her. "As long as you're safe, I'm okay with being an idiot."

She pulled on a small smile. "Ye're my idiot."

"Always, sweetheart. Come, now. Let's get you to the car. Can you walk?"

"I don't think so." Cheeks flushing red, she lowered her head as embarrassment crossed her bloodied features. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I told her, bringing my hand to her chin to tilt her head up. I shot her an encouraging smile. "It's not your fault. Sam, can you help us out?"

"Sure."

He was quickly by her side, taking her into his arms bridal style.

"I'm right here," I said as Rowena protested, hissing in pain as Sam's hands gripped her. "I'm not going anywhere. Let him help you."

This calmed her, though she was very obviously against anyone, especially the Winchesters, seeing her at her worst. "Drop me and ye'll regret it."

"Don't plan on it," Sam told her, letting out a small chuckle.

"Think I'd let him?" I teased.

This prompted her to smile through her pain. "I – OW! Would it kill ye to be a wee more gentle, giant?"

Sam looked mortified. "Sorry."

"Be careful," I warned, protective mode kicking in once again. She was already hurt enough as it was; she didn't need any more pain to add to the already overwhelming list.

Dean was already waiting for us, starting the engine the moment he saw us walk out the door. He informed us that Castiel was on his way; he'd either wait for us at the bunker, or arrive a short time after us.

I helped Sam lay Rowena out next to me on the backseat. She hissed and moaned in pain while we did our best to make her as comfortable as possible, a hard task considering the severity of her injuries. My heart broke for my girl; she used to do bad, bad things, but she didn't deserve this. No one deserved to be tortured like this.

"This okay?" I inquired, getting her to lay her head on my lap.

"Aye," she confirmed.

Thick, uncomfortable silence fell upon us as we drove. Sam would shoot us a look of concern here and there, but for the most part he kept his eyes glued to the window, observing the gloomy surroundings.

Every now and then I'd ask Rowena how she was doing, each time getting a small nod in response. My fingers played with her hair, curling the messy locks; I was uncertain at first, but calmed down soon enough, noticing it relaxed her, gave her a sense of normalcy in this situation that was everything but normal.

"It's okay, baby girl," I whispered softly, calming her pained gasps after the car passed a rather nasty bump. Were it not for my arms that grabbed a firm hold on her, she would have rolled off my lap. I took her hand into mine, giving it a light caress. "Did I hurt you?"

"It's fine," she murmured.

I leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. "I wish I could make it better."

She almost chuckled. "This is nothin'."

I sincerely doubted that. "Doesn't look like nothing"

"I can handle it."

Now that I believed. "I know you can. Why do you think I wanted you, out of all witches, to teach me? There's no one quite like you. You're my strong, beautiful girl. And soon you'll be as good as new. I promise."

"Ye really know how to cheer a girl up," she teased.

"Want me to keep going?"

"Please, do. A wee bit of praise can't hurt."

So I did. I told her how much of an inspiration she was to me and how strong I considered her to be. I told her how much I loved her, how being with her had changed my life for the better. How the first thing that attracted me to her was her infectious smile that always, without exception, prompted my own to surface. How I admired her courage and envied her power.

My rambling helped pass the time and soon enough we were at the bunker. Once again, Sam scooped Rowena up into his arms and carried her inside with Dean and me in tow. She looked so tiny in his arms, like a kitten being carried by its mother. It if weren't for her injuries, I would have found the sight adorable.

Much to my (and more than likely Rowena's) relief, Castiel was already there.

"How is she?" he inquired while Sam carefully lowered her onto the couch. I took a seat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and gently pulling her close to allow her to rest her head on my shoulder.

She shot the angel a sardonic look. "What do ye think, ye bloody bampot?"

"As you can see, she's still Rowena," Dean commented, prompting her to glare at him. He threw his hands up in surrender. "Just telling it like it is."

"Can you just heal her? She's hurt!" I said. "We can toss banter later."

Castiel blinked, swallowed, and then nodded. "Of course. I apologize."

He brought his forefinger to her forehead, closing his eyes in concentration for a short moment.

Rowena breathed out a sigh of relief; looking her over, I did the same. All the bruises faded, the gloomy purple replaced by the vibrant peach. Cuts and gashes disappeared as though they were never there, trails of dry blood the only remainder of their existence.

She was dirty, covered in blood and filth from head to toe; her dress was ripped, and her hair resembled a messy bird nest, but the most important thing was that she was in pain no more.

"How are you feeling?" I asked just to make sure.

"Good," she replied, smiling widely.

"Does anything hurt?"

"No."

Happy tears fell from my eyes as I pulled Rowena into a bone-crushing hug. "I'm so glad," I whispered. "Don't you ever get hurt like that again."

"It's alright, darlin'. Everythin's alright," she cooed.

"It better stay that way."

"Believe me, I don't plan on gettin' into trouble anytime soon."

"You better be telling me the truth."

She withdrew from the hug, looking me straight in the eye. "Have I ever lied to ye?"

"Lucifer," I fired.

She sighed. "Have I ever lied to ye since we got together?"

"I guess not."

"I haven't," she said firmly. "I'll be alright." She pecked me on the lips. "I promise."

"Okay, I've had enough of all the mushy stuff," Dean said, walking away. "I'm hungry."

Sam smiled at us before trailing after him. "Dude, you can't eat pie for dinner!" I heard him protest.

"Watch me!"

"I will leave you to your… mushy stuff," Castiel said.

"Wait!" Rowena called out, stopping him in his tracks. She took a few deep, steady breaths; what she was about to say took a lot of courage for a proud person such as her. "Thank ye."

"Yeah, thanks," I added. "We appreciate what you've done."

He smiled at us. "You're welcome." And soon enough, he joined Sam and Dean's argument over proper dinner choices.

I reached into my bag, pulling out a pack of wet wipes. I pulled one out, bringing it to Rowena's cheek to wipe away the caked blood adorning her flawless skin.

"Ye don't have to do this," she told me.

"It's fine. Let me," I insisted. "I let them take you. Taking care of you is the least I can do."

She shook her head defiantly. "It wasn't yer fault. I told ye to run."

"I shouldn't have listened to you."

Turning my back on her and running far, far away would haunt me for the rest of my life. Yes, she told me to go, and yes, she took on all three hunters, simultaneously, without the aid of magic, to allow me to leave, but still, I should have stayed. I should have fought harder. I should have protected her from them.

After her temporary death at Lucifer's hands, I swore to myself to never let anything happen to her. No matter how many times she rolled her eyes at me and called my insistence to always be by her side ridiculous, I stood by my promise.

Until today.

I was close to losing her again, close to never seeing that beautiful smile and never meeting those wonderful eyes. Close to never feeling her hands on mine or listening to her calming heartbeat after a devastating nightmare.

Close to being all alone again.

"What they did to you… I could've prevented it."

"Or they could've done the same to ye. Worse, maybe," she pointed out.

"I don't care. If they had us both, they wouldn't have hurt you as much as they did."

She sighed exasperatedly. "Ye're overthinkin' it. It's over now. Let it go."

"I can't." Tears spilled down my cheeks once more. "I almost lost you. Again. How am I supposed to just get over that?"

"Did ye forget? I still have the Seal."

"They put that anti-magic cuff on you."

"And once it was removed, the Seal would've resurrected me. I wouldn't've been gone for good."

"But you'd still be gone," I wept. "It was hard enough the first time, to see you lying there. Dead. Cold. Motionless. Seeing you like that again would kill me."

"Oh, darlin'." Sympathy filled her eyes, spreading across her still bloodied face. She pressed her forehead to mine, bringing a hand to my cheek to give it a light caress. "Why didn't ye tell me?"

"How could I tell you when you always say I worry too much?"

"If I'd known ye felt like this, I never would have told ye that. I'm sorry."

I knew she genuinely meant it. Rowena never said sorry. Never. Not when she did something bad, and certainly not when she was wrong.

And now she did, and the feelings it awoke within me couldn't be put into simple words.

"I promise ye will never have to see me like that again."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

I nodded, wiping away my tears. "Okay." A smile broke through my sadness. "Sorry about this. Sometimes I get so emotional."

"Don't apologize. It's fine," she told me, shooting me a smile of her own.

"Dean was right. We are mushy," I chuckled, prompting her to do the same.

"Even a broken clock is right twice a day."

"True that." I took a breath to compose myself. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Aye," she assured me. "Never better."

My face grew serious as the terrifying sight from earlier flashed through my mind once more. "Rowena, did… did they do anything else?"

She frowned in confusion. "What do ye mean?"

I gulped, unsure how to approach the subject the right way. How do you properly ask someone if they've been raped? "One of them… His belt…"

She understood what I was trying to say and firmly shook her head. "He beat me with it."

I breathed out a sigh of relief that the worst hasn't happened.

"Nothin' of the sort happened. I told ye I'm alright."

"You did," I confirmed. "I just…"

"Don't think about it," she told me. "It's over now." She smiled. "Does this dump have a bathroom? I need to wash this filth off me. Ye're welcome to join, if ye want."

I laughed. "I think I'm gonna take you up on that offer."

"Thought so."

"You know I can't resist you. One way," my forefinger traced the blood on her face, all the way to her lower lip, "or the other."

I kissed her, slowly, tenderly; she deepened the kiss, and I let her take charge, let her lead like I always did. She was hungry, that much I could tell; hungry for me, for my body against hers, for my hands around her waist to hold her in place. She may have been a witch, yet as a lover, she was a real hunter, experienced and precise. She knew exactly what I wanted and was all too eager to give it to me for the sake of us both.

Just as I pulled her onto my lap, my hands sliding down the remains of her torn dress, an angry voice said: "Oh, hell, no!"

Rowena rolled her eyes, sending Dean her deadliest glare. If looks could kill, he would have dropped dead right that instant.

"You are not having sex on my couch," he said, his face wrinkled in disgust. "You already got blood on it. That's more than enough of your bodily fluids."

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" I said, huffing in annoyance.

"This is my house," he pointed out.

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam inquired, walking up to his brother.

I noticed he had changed into a clean shirt, another bland, plaid one, and my thoughts instantly went to my own clothes. I hoped I could get the blood stains out. Maybe I could get Rowena to do a spell. If there were spells for turning people into rabid beasts, there had to have been one for cleaning.

"They wanted to have sex on my couch."

The younger Winchester gave us his signature bitchface. "Really? Now?"

I shrugged. "Comfort sex. It's a thing."

"Not on my couch, it's not," Dean said.

I gave my imitation of Rowena's dramatic eye roll, which could never be as perfect as the original, but it served its purpose.

It was then that Castiel walked in, confused by the commotion. One look at Rowena and me, with my arms still around her and her in my lap, prompted his cheeks to flush deep, embarrassed red.

"What?" Rowena said, shooting him a pointed look. "Never seen two women getting' it on?"

The angel shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "I…"

"Did you need anything?" I snapped, looking back and forth between the three of them.

"I, um, made dinner," Sam said with a gulp. "We wanted to ask you if you'd like to join us."

"That's awfully kind of ye," Rowena commented, smiling brightly.

"Yeah, and how do you repay us? By getting blood on my couch," Dean complained.

"I apologize for almost dyin', If I'd known my blood'd ruin yer couch, I never would have gotten myself tortured," she said sarcastically.

"Yes or no?" Sam said before Dean could come up with a retort.

"Sure," I said.

"But only if we can have a shower first," Rowena added.

Dean narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Don't look at me like that. Want me to get blood over yer kitchen, too?"

"Fine," he growled. "You'll take turns."

"Nope," I said, popping the p. "Together."

"Not happening."

"I held her." I motioned to my bloodied clothes. "Your furniture's really… clean. It'd be a real shame if something was to happen to it. Like, say, blood."

"You wouldn't dare," he said sternly, locking eyes with mine in an intense stare.

"Try me," I retorted.

"Okay," Sam said, interrupting out starring contest. "You can take a shower." He smiled tightly. "Together. We'll leave clean clothes for you outside."

"Sammy," Dean growled.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam told him.

The older Winchester rolled his eyes, then raised his forefinger and pointed it at us. "No sex."

"Oh, there will be sex," Rowena told him. "I will see to it that I make her scream loud enough for ye to hear."

She ended up making good on that promise.

Huge thanks to my friend @apritelleorai for helping me with grammar!

[cracked-treetopper-angel]

Life Can Be Magical (With or Without Spells)

A/N- Here it is, the last chapter in my John Winchester X Original Female Character story. Thank you for liking, sharing or otherwise managing to get the word to me that you liked my story.

Masterlist here

Warnings: angst, happy(bittersweet?) ending

Word count:2,236

Kit woke up a little when she heard the Impala’s engine, she tried to lift her head but it hurt too much. “John?” she murmured “Right here darlin’.” John said, taking her hand again. She was laying in the vehicle’s back seat, head cushioned by someone’s jacket against the door, feet laying on the seat. The boys were up front, Dean driving and Sam in shotgun turned around talking to John from time to time. “Cas and Nick are doing research, see if they can find something to fix this or to safeguard her when the wall comes down.” Sam said. “Couldn’t Gabe help Nick, they’re both uber-powerful arch-angels after all.” Dean mentioned “That’s one thing they’re looking into.” Sam said.

John stopped listening to them talking about the angels and research. He was more focused on the fact that kit had started shivering. “Can you go a bit faster? Carefully?” John said “Do you realize how weird that phrase sounds?” Dean asked as he stepped on it, keeping an eye out for any other cars.

They got to the hospital and Sam went in and grabbed a wheelchair. John wrapped his jacket around her, hoping it would help with the shivering and helped her sit down.

A nurse came over and handed them papers, John filled them out, using information from one of her false ids and handed them back. It wasn’t long before she was wheeled to the back, John tagging along. They had dimmed the lights in case it was a migraine but kept turning them back up every time someone came in. she was put on an iv of various things for the migraine and cooling blankets to bring her temperature down, which made her shiver worse.

-John’s p.o.v- John hated hospitals, and hated not being able to do anything. He sat there listening to the monitors beep and Kit’s breathing as she shivered and her head hurt. Everything was stable for the most part, she was a little dehydrated so they were giving her fluids as well as the migraine medicine. Finally, she’d stopped shivering, John went over to the bed. “Kit, are you ok?” only a small shake of the head was his answer.

They decided to do some scans so he went and sat with the boys, one of which handed him a coffee. “Her fever broke. They’re doing scans now and will let us know if they find anything.” John said. The boys looked almost as nervous as he was feeling.

 John was pacing, Sam was watching whatever was playing on the tv in the corner and John couldn’t tell if Dean had dozed off or if he was counting ceiling tiles. His phone buzzed, the notification telling him that they were back from doing tests. “I have a bad feeling.” He muttered, not really talking to anyone. Then he headed back.

‘we’re going to keep her for observation’…’sedated to ease the pain’…’run a few more tests’ it just sort of blurred together. John was worried before, now he was just scared. Then he heard, ‘one test came back positive, she is pregnant’ and John wasn’t sure how to feel. He was happy, scared, worried, thrilled…it felt like someone had his heart and emotions and was using them as a yo-yo. He scrawled down the room number and went to the waiting room to his boys. He smiled a sort of crooked dopey grin, he liked the idea of a big family but there was that feeling again and the grin faded.

“They’re keeping her for observation, running more tests. They gave her something to help her sleep and to help with the pain…” he trailed off. “What else?” “What is it dad?” the boys asked, voices nearly overlapping. He allowed himself to smile a little again, hoping it wouldn’t turn sour. “Kit’s pregnant.”

Both boys looked stunned, Sam recovered first. “Congrats. To both you and Kitarina.” Dean shook his head like he was shaking off the shock “That’s great dad. Congratulations. We should get upstairs in case kit wakes up though.” They headed upstairs and the boys found a comfortable spot in a visitor’s area and John took his place in the uncomfortable arm chair next to the bed in Kit’s room. It was in the quiet listening to the droning machines and kit’s breathing that he had a thought, she couldn’t be pregnant. She was only a couple years younger than he was. He didn’t want to wake the boys up so he quietly prayed to Cas to come there and bring nick. They popped in and he asked them his question. “It can be possible…merely rare.” Nick said “I do sense new life, barely there and struggling.” He added. The words were like a punch to John’s stomach. “Ok. Thank you. Um, did you find anything useful to help with her headaches?” he asked, eyes not leaving Kit. “I deemed the only thing we found to be too dangerous to try. Even more so now with a new life there as well.” Cas said. “What does it need?” “It’s complicated work, we’d have to do it in the bunker so we had safeguard warding.” Cas said. “What does it need?” John asked sounding more like the fierce hunter he was usually known as. “Quite a bit is herbs and incantations. Then blood, two different kinds. Then you light the herbs and finish the incantation but it’s tricky, the incantation was written in the book in both Enochian and Latin. So, I believe that means at least two persons have to perform it.” Nick said. John just swallowed as he thought. “Gather what you need, Kit should be home tomorrow.” He told the angels and they left.

The rest of the night passed quickly and it seemed like he’d just laid his head down when there was a knock on the door. It was a nurse, checking up on Kit. “She’ll be heading for her tests in a few minutes, so you can go have breakfast” John nodded and stood, stretching. He found the boys downstairs, they must have slept in the car. Sam handed him a coffee, “Thanks Sam.” He nodded and Dean yawned as they headed for the cafeteria.

“So was she awake yet?” Dean asked after he got a breakfast burrito. “Not yet, think the nurse was about to wake her up before taking her for tests. Cas and Nick found something, I say it’s worth a try.” John said “Should talk to Kit about it, let her decide. After last night, I think she’ll decide to try it even if it’s dangerous.” Sam said, dipping his hash brown patty in ketchup.

John got back to the room about the same time as they were bringing Kit back. He sat down and smiled, trying to hide how worried he was. Once the nurse left she looked at him. “My head feels a little better.” She said with a half-hearted smile. “Did they tell you my blood test results?” She added. He nodded, “I had them double check it. I am.” She managed to smile a little bigger. It took him a moment then he understood “We’re…You’re? Seriously?” He half laughed. He couldn’t believe it, but was happy at the same time. Then remembered what Nick had said, ‘a life, barely there and struggling.’ And wondered what would happen if they did the spell to help her head, would it extinguish it or be the small bit of air that a spark needs to turn into a flame?

 Kit got to come home, some medicine for her migraine in tow. John had told her about what the Angels had found, and she decided to try it. Sam and Nick were the ones that were going to be reading the incantations. The blood had turned out to need to be human and angel, john offered his but Sam pointed out it would probably be better if it was from the person they were doing the incantation on, the angel blood was offered by Nick following a similar train of thought. They set it aside and began, John not leaving the room in case Kit needed him.

The Enochian and Latin rolled off their tongues easily and a calm fell in the room as they worked the spell, mixing the ingredients like pros. Sam poured the vials of blood in as they began to read the last of it. Nick dropped a match in and the lot went up in a puff of smoke and a spout of flame. “It says to take this and waft the smoke over her.” Sam said, picking up the bowl. The two moved and stood on either side of the table where Kit lay and gently wafted the smoke, Nick dipped a finger in, “It says to draw this…” he drew one symbol on her forehead between her eyebrows “Here” “This…” He drew a second on her left temple and a third on her right. “And this here and here. Now we say this last part.” He said. And they did, the two languages mixing.

That was when something happened, there was a feeling that rushed through the air. It was unmistakable and it made the hair on john’s arms stand on end. “Stay there” Both Nick and Sam snapped when John saw Kit shudder on the table and wanted to move to her. Nick lightly touched her forehead with his clean fingers, “The wall or shield, it’s dissolving. I can sense what it was hiding easier now.” Nick cocked his head in a very Castiel-like move. “She…She’s a reborn spirit, and she has dormant powers that if active would make her an even more dangerous hunter.” He said. Sam looked impressed and John felt rather impressed himself, he’d seen her on hunts. “Does her being a reborn spirit matter?” John asked. “No, I just thought you might want to know what I noticed. I couldn’t tell who though, and the new life force is fine. Better than last night.” Nick added as he stepped away.

Kit’s opened her eyes slowly, she was expecting pain. She didn’t feel any, just a little cold due to the room being a bit cool. “Sam? Nick? Where’s John?” “Dad’s here. Congratulations by the way.” Sam said, waving John over and helping Nick to clean things up.

“Feeling better baby?” John asked, pulling her up and hugging her. “Yeah. So, I guess everyone knows?” “Balthazar and Gabe don’t” John said, pulling back. “So I get to tell two people. Yay.” She smirked, sounding almost like her old self. “Three, dad. Bobby doesn’t know either.” Sam piped up.

“How bout I help you out of this cold room, somewhere where you can go and get cleaned up. Get the blood off your face.” John suggested as Nick and Sam left. “Sounds good. Another bath? Nah, shower I don’t feel like climbing in and out of a tub.” John cracked up and walked out with her.

 ­--A year later-

John smiled at the sight when he came into the media room to find Kit, Sam, Dean and the almost 4-month old twins Rowan and Joanne. The boys were holding their baby siblings, leaving a spot next to Kit open for him. They had a proper little family now, plus their friends who were practically family. These two little ones were going to be spoiled with four angels as ‘uncles’ plus big brothers Sam and Dean. “One thing left hon, we’ve got house and kids. We’re kind of doing things backwards, He slid from the couch, removing a ring from his pocket. Dean stopped humming which made the twins begin to fuss, so he started again he and Sam rocking them gently. “Kitarina, will you marry me?” He asked. Kit’s eyes shined. “Yes. Yes, John, I’ll marry you.” She answered, kissing him before letting him slip the ring on.

“Best part is, we know Chuck. You don’t have to worry about a big wedding. He could do it here.” Sam joked. Kit of course had known for a while now that nick was the fallen and now on a sort of probation Archangel Lucifer, and had met chuck a few months back whilst in the middle of her pregnancy. That had been a fun introduction, sort of.

John and Kit looked at each other in a ‘well… that’s one idea.’ Sort of way. “That way we can register for a few things if we need it, and put money toward a future for these two.” Kit said. “The future I wanted for all my kids. This time I won’t spend it on ammo.” John said with a knowing glance at Sam as he took one of the twins into his arms. “Rowan likes you humming, Joanne’s still a bit fussy.” John said to dean. John began to sing quietly and all four of his children, the four month olds and the grown ones quieted. They were a nice little family sitting there. John and Kit had essentially retired from the hunting business so they could be here for their little ones, even Sam and Dean had become more of a hunter’s resource than field hunters lately. How long Dean would stay out of the game however was anyone’s guess. But for now, the Winchesters were a big; mostly happy, occasionally dysfunctional, and perhaps not entirely sane; family.