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lenavonschweetz · 1 year ago

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Hunter Insert

Dean Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: You really didn’t mean to, but somehow you’d stumbled upon something called Tumblr - and in turn fanfiction. You may or may not get addicted to reader inserts featuring your favorite teammate. You may or may not get caught.

Warnings: Smut, second-hand embarrassment, adorable Dean, fanfiction cliches, fanfiction cliches turned on their heads, fluffy smut. It’s ok (and quite adorable, honestly) to laugh during sexytimes.

A/N: This is just a reworking of one of my most popular Bucky x reader fics! Tweaked for the Supernatural world and storyline. No Beta, so be kind!

You’d had a thing for Dean Winchester for longer than you could remember.

It probably all started when you met Sam Winchester at school. The tall goober took to you immediately. Your calming presence and warm smile lured him in and you became fast friends, giving Sam a bond he hadn’t felt in a long time. You were the only one he trusted enough to tell the truth about his family and their business. He spoke of his older brother with bucket loads of admiration, though he would never admit it to the man in question. When he told stories of their shenanigans back in the day, his eyes would light up but then his smile would fall just as quickly when he also recalled his father. You fell in love with the idea of a man glorious enough to make even displaced, ‘unwanted’ (his words, not yours), and jaded Sam smile like the kid he never got to be.

They say reality never lives up to the stories, but lord almighty were they wrong.

You first met Dean when the business of his dad’s disappearance was in full swing. A regular weekly movie night at Sam and Jessica’s place having turned tense when an unknown figure had broken in. You remember your eyes had wandered to his dark figure, speaking to Sam in hushed tones, head reeling as you realized this was the man who haunted your dreams. The infamous older brother and monster hunter, Dean Winchester.

You hadn’t believed in love at first sight, but the way his impossibly hazel eyes made your heart clench… Well, there was no denying this is exactly what was happening.

After Jessica had died you sat out the first leg of their search for their father, wanting to let them catch up. It wasn’t until after their father was long dead, and the apocalypse was well on its way that you joined back in - or rather, were dragged back in. Being the only woman currently in Sam’s life - though platonically, of course - the universe seemed to have it out for you and after having to save you from demons at least twice, the brothers claimed teaching you how to defend yourself and dragging you along with them would be safer than leaving you to whatever fate there was to be had. You even became an incredibly capable hunter. Though this was all after Sam had effectively ended the world with a demon lover who screwed him over, Dean died then came back thanks to the help of an angel - Castiel - who joined in your asinine little game, and the apocalypse really started. Because life with the Winchesters was never simple.

And through all your years together, there was always the looming reality - or rather, fantasy - of the Supernatural books by Chuck Shurley.

At first, the fans were harmless. There was the convention incident where reality and fantasy got a little too close, but Chuck assured you he was going to stop writing the books.

He lied, obviously.

Still, the fandom was mostly benign - and rather small, actually, with only some fanatics here and there. Although perhaps your favorite attention to come from the ‘fame’ was from Tumblr.

Folks from all over the world posted about the boys - or rather their ‘fictional’ counterparts. Artists’ work would pop up from time to time, usually of the boys, but yours were there - even if they were pretty scarce.

The art was amazing. Some funny comics, some lewd drawings, some gorgeous renders - all talent. But somehow, from Chuck’s descriptions of you and the boys, these artists rendered the most flattering, wonderful, and accurate works. It was incredibly humbling and awe-inspiring all at once. It even got you to start reading the books!

And you couldn’t blame them for the way the brothers were almost always shirtless or naked. They were like Greek statues, for God sake!

Your character was pretty popular, up until Chuck’s latest book where he started hinting at your little crush on the older brother. Thank God the boys never read them, or you’d be in deep shit.

Some users sided with you “she’s only human! And he is just so…well, look at him!” Lewd pictures were attached to that post. Others condemned you. “Seriously? How could he ever notice someone like her? #DeanDeservesBetter” “What’s Chuck thinking?”, “Worst. Ship. EVER!”

Those stung, you’d admit. But if growing up in the 21st century taught you anything, it’s that fans were only jealous and no one was safe. You could ignore the hate though.

What you couldn’t ignore was the fanfiction.

Oh goodness, the fanfiction.

What seemed to be most popular were the reader inserts with your gorgeous teammate, and you didn’t mind indulging in them one little bit. Some were sweet and cute, others left you dashing for a cold shower after. It stunned you that these writers were able to capture Dean’s mannerisms and personality so well! And these works were just so addicting!

It became a daily thing, finding a new fic, and reading it in the safety of your room where no one could see or judge. You read reader inserts, stories with original characters, and may or may not have found a guilty pleasure in a teensy bit of Destiel (who could deny the two perfect specimens would be hot as hell together?? But you would never tell them). You steered clear of the Dean x Lisa fics, though, like your life depended on it.

That was one torture you just couldn’t expose yourself to.

Then you stumbled over the one that changed everything. A new fic by one of your favorite authors that featured Dean (of course) and…you. It was a prompt you hadn’t read before, one where the two of you had to share a motel room with only one bed and things got hot and heavy. Your heart raced as you indulged in this fantasy, thinking of all the times you had to share a room with your teammates, though there was always more than one bed. You had never shared with Dean, as he usually bunked on the couch while you and Sam each bunked alone, but a girl can dream can’t she?

And dream you did. Especially with Dean’s constant flirting and sexual innuendos.

The story became a constant thought in the back of your mind and when Sam hangs back at the bunker and leaves you and Dean to take on a duet hunt together, you felt your heart stop. At the motel when checking in, you were given one room and your mind ran ramped. Had he read your phone’s history? Did he find your Tumblr? What if he had read the sinful story you’d found and wanted to live out the fantasy with you (another of your favorite prompts). The thoughts had you following silently behind your partner, heart racing as he smiled at you while his deft fingers unlocked the door. Steeling yourself as you walked inside behind him, you dropped your bags and spun around to find… 2 beds.

Oh.

Well, you supposed your dirty fantasies were just that; Fantasies.

----------

The night crawled on with no notable incidents -unfortunately-, and when it was finally time to call it a night, you both fell into your own beds.

Sleep evaded you for hours. The thought of that perfect body lying just feet away from you swam in the back of your mind. You could easily get up, crawl into bed with him, and make all your dreams come true. The fantasies that filled your head made you anything but tired.

Well, that, and the fact that Dean was snoring like a mother fucking buzz saw.

Your wide, dry eyes stared up at the ceiling as the loud rumbles filled the room. Dean had come a long way - with your help - and no longer had nightly episodes or memories of hell. Of course, they still happened on occasion, but they were a rare occurrence now. The hunter often found himself sleeping soundly through most nights, including this one.

He was the only one who would, it seemed, as you tossed and turned, doing your best to tune out the irritating sound. You put earplugs in, then headphones playing music, then even tracks of white noise. A forest, a stream, the ocean each one louder than the last. They all usually knocked you right out on a hunt.

But Dean snored over all of them.

You did your best to ignore it, you really did, but when he rolled over onto his back and started with a newfound volume, you’d decided you’d had enough.

“Dee.” You say lowly, hoping that he’ll sleep through the disturbance, but that his subconscious will hear his name and disturb his sleep just enough that he’ll shut the hell up.

The resounding snort proves that theory wrong.

“Dee!” You snap, louder now. Nothing. “Dean!”

A few moments pass…

Nothing…

Maybe it worked! Maybe-

Yeah, no, there he goes again.

Groaning loudly, you sit up and reach for your phone. Fine, if his hard-sleeping-ass can sleep through all that, then he could sleep with the light from your phone filling the room as well.

You open your favorite app, the blue screen greeting your tired eyes. Switching over from the homepage feed, you type ‘Dean x reader’ into the app’s search bar and your screen is immediately flooded with fic after fic. Pursing your lips, you decide to narrow your search. It doesn’t seem like you’ll be falling asleep any time soon, so what would the harm be? You let your thumbs fly over the screen’s keyboard.

Dean x reader smut.

Happy with your amendment, you hit ‘search’ once more and decide to take a walk on the wild side.

Immediately, your screen is flooded with sin and you bite back a smile. With your screen’s light as low as it’ll go, you click on the first story and settle into a comfortable position, facing away from Dean and the window as you immerse yourself in the fic.

You’ve probably been reading for about an hour or so when your bladder decides it’s time for you to get up. Sighing quietly, you leave your phone on your pillow, creeping through the silent room. As soon as you’ve taken care of business and washed up, you tiptoe back to bed. As you all but fall into the sheets, feeling like you can finally sleep, you realize your phone is not where you left it.

Hell, it’s not even in the bed.

Sitting up in fright, your eyes dart across the room and the sleeping man in the bed opposite yours. When you see the dimly glowing screen on the bedside table, you sigh in relief, telling yourself that your sleep-deprived brain probably just didn’t register you putting it away. Locking the screen with sleepy eyes, you drift off to sleep with visions of Dean trailing kisses down your neck flitting behind your eyes.

----------

The morning comes much too quickly for your taste, but you push yourself out of bed to face the day ahead.

You grab your bag quickly, packing up all your belongings as you and Dean prepare for your hunt. He’s uncharacteristically quiet this morning, barely meeting your eyes as you two embark from the motel room. Shrugging it off, you follow behind him and before you know it, the two of you are standing before the doors to a known haunted office building. It’s far too early for anyone to be there, so breaking in is easier than you’d expected and the two of you don’t run into any trouble as you make your way to the top floor.

Once there, you put your plan into motion, Dean taking a defensive position as you sneak into the manager’s office. You find the haunted artifact like you’ve done a million times before, and you note the sudden shift in the air once you touch it. It’s almost too quiet as you do your work, but by the way Dean hasn’t even flinched in his spot is a good indicator that things are - miraculously - still going as planned.

Finally, your work is done - the artifact turned to ash and the ghost successfully placated.

----------

You don’t allow yourself to breathe until you and Dean walk into yet another motel, this one only a few towns over from your rendezvous point with Sam. You’d spend the night here before making the remainder of the journey in the morning. Exhaustion hits you like a freight train as you trudge to the room, and you find yourself hoping against hope once more that your favorite fics may come to life. But when your eyes fall on two beds once more those hopes are dashed.

“You can take the king,” Dean says, and you suddenly realize those are the first words he’s spoken to you all day aside from the business of the break-in earlier. There hadn’t even been one famous Dean innuendo all day. “I’ll take the queen.”

You raise your eyebrow at that but don’t argue, even though you know damn well that the man who is almost twice your size probably needs the larger bed more than you do.

No more words are passed between the two of you as you prepare for bed, each taking their turn in the bathroom and shower before turning the lights out and settling down to sleep. It doesn’t take long for sleep to tickle at your eyelids, but it’s chased away almost instantly when Dean’s buzz saw snores kick to life again.

Groaning quietly, you toss a pillow at the human-grizzly bear before rolling over to grab your phone and headphones from the bedside table. He continues, of course, and you go to your favorite app once more. Using your phone this late at night and right before you sleep is bad, you know, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with that man rumbling only several feet from you.

You open a new fanfic, this one’s warnings staring you down as you read “smut, language, NSFW gifs” and you can’t fight back the smirk that plays on your lips. Again, you roll onto your side, back towards Dean, as you get to reading.

You know your breathing has picked up pace as you get past the fic’s casual banter between friends and the sexual tension sets in. Your legs squeeze together of their own accord, your chest warming in arousal as you envision Dean speaking to you the way he’s speaking to Y/N in this fic.

Within a few minutes - and a few lines - the sexual tension explodes into a full-on kiss, the smut slowly building as a result. You scroll quickly, devouring every detail before your fingers slow as the top of a gif comes into view. It’s sinful, to say the least. You watch the way the man’s hips swivel into his lover’s, her head thrown back as he buries his head against her throat and himself deep into her.

Your lip is back between your teeth and you can’t bring yourself to scroll on just yet. Instead, you let yourself take every detail in as the image loops, again and again, your arousal growing with every second. Oh, what you wouldn’t give to have Dean moving against you that way. His heavy breath fanning over your collarbone as he grinds against your most sensitive skin. You have to bite your tongue so as to not moan into the silent room.

Wait…

Silent.

You realize at that moment that the violent snores from the other side of the room have died completely, silence overtaking their absence. A silence that has you tentatively glancing over your shoulder and only to immediately regret it.

Even in the dark, your eyes find the hazel ones that are only inches away. Hazel eyes that are damn near swallowed with lust.

Oh.

Oh, Jesus.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Kiddo?” His deep voice rumbles in the quiet room, sending your heart galloping as you jump up to sitting, desperately burying your phone against your breast in an effort to hide its contents from him.

“Nothing.” You say, your voice scarcely above a whisper. You don’t miss the smirk on his face and frantically reevaluate the past several minutes in your brain. When had he woken up? When had he snuck up behind you? How much had he read over your shoulder?

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.” He says, teeth dragging over his lower lip and it seems for a moment that he’s debating on whether or not he wants to take this any further. When he speaks again though, he makes his choice very clear. “Looks like you’re being a very bad girl.”

The room is so fucking quiet that the lump that you gulp down is painfully audible.

He didn’t just say that…did he? You chuckle humorlessly, trying desperately to break the obvious tension and play off of the joke he is so obviously playing on you. Dean makes comments like that all the time. That’s just how he is with you! Any moment now he’ll chuckle like he always does.

But then he doesn’t laugh with you. Just stares as he scoots closer on his knees until his frame is right against the bed, pulling you by your thighs until he’s encasing you - palms on either side of your legs that are now thrown over the side of the bed.

You’reDreamingYou’reDreamingYou’reDreaming…

“That…that was too far, wasn’t it?” He suddenly asks, rocking his weight back on his heels. Bless him, he looks so uncharacteristically shy and you must look completely dumbfounded. He waits with bated breath as you open and close your mouth uselessly, desperately searching for words.

Finally, you spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did you just quote the fanfiction I read last night?” OH MY GOD, you mentally scream. Why the fuck would you expose yourself like that?? What if he just thought of that himself??

But then what if he didn’t? Because that line had definitely stuck out to you when reading the night before…and suddenly, you remember why it had. That was the last line before you left your phone to go to the bathroom. The last line you’d read with tired eyes before you set your phone down, unlocked, on your pillow and - ohmygod!

“You read that!?” You screech, gripping your phone tighter. You gasp so hard you damn near swallow your tongue. “You put my phone on the bedside table! Dean, you totally snooped while I was peeing!” Alright, you could’ve kept that bit to yourself.

He’s biting that damn lip again, and you know he can tell that’s exactly where your eyes are zeroed in on.

“Maybe?” He says, voice small as he admits his secret to you. “I didn’t mean to! I just…I woke up when you shut the bathroom door, and the screen was shining right in my face - I just-I got up to lock it so it wouldn’t bother me, but then I saw what you were looking at and…” He clears his throat. “Y/N, I…were you reading porn…about me?”

Your face is no doubt a thousand degrees of embarrassment.

“It’s not porn!! It’s fanfiction, and-”

“It literally talks about me fucking you.” He deadpans, eyebrows raised. “In explicit detail. It’s porn.”

You’re silent for a few moments, staring him down as you wait for him to back down.

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Ok, fine! It’s porn, are you happy?” You huff, crossing your arms and finally ditching your phone to the pillow beside you. A sudden terrifying thought causes you to freeze. “So…are you going to tell Sam?”

“Why the fuck would I tell him?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you honestly think I’d tell him something so personal?!”

“I don’t know!” You repeat, floundering as you toss your hands up before crossing them again in a pout. “It’s embarrassing. You know I tend to jump to the worst-case scenarios…”

“Y/N, I would never out you like that.” You would have to be blind to miss the way his eyes drag over you in your nightclothes, and you are suddenly very aware of your lack of bra and just how cold it is in the room.

He seems to notice too, his eyes zeroing in on your breasts and the way your nipples are pressing against the soft fabric encasing them.

“Do you…do you want me like that?” He asks, his voice dropping back into the husky tone it had been before his awkward detour.

“No, Dee, I was just reading porn of you for the fuck of it.” He chuckles at that, his palms coming to rest on your thighs as the embarrassment between you two eases - making way for a choking tension.

“Really? Ah, well, then I guess I can just go back to bed, then.”

“Don’tyoudare!” The words are out before you can stop them, but at this point, you don’t much care.

“Oh? Then what should I do?” His hazel eyes are dark, gazing at you from below thick lashes as his hands creep higher up your thighs, pushing your oversized t-shirt up to expose the soft cotton covering you from his gaze. “Should I do this?”

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as he leans forward, lips pressing against the soft skin on the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, please.” You beg, arms falling at your sides to support you as his mouth grows closer to where you really want him. Only he doesn’t quite reach, his eyes twinkling playfully at you.

“Words, Y/N.” He grumbles lowly, splayed hands pushing your legs wider to give himself better access to your heat.

“Dean, please-” A squeal escapes you when his teeth drag across your hip bone. “Put your mouth on me.”

Nothing you’ve ever read could’ve prepared you for the way Dean touches you.

He moves slowly, his palms running from your inner thighs to behind your knees to pull your legs over his shoulders. The movement has your stomach flipping, eyes never leaving his as he drags his tongue up the material hiding your core from him.

He chuckles at your moan, eyes batting as he presses the point of his tongue against your clit beneath your panties. To be honest, you’re not sure which one of you is enjoying this more what with the way his fingers tighten against your legs, his eyes closing in concentration as he laps at you.

In your wildest dreams, you never thought Dean would be touching you like this - at least not outside of the fiction you were reading. But, oh, is he touching you - playing you, more like it, plucking your strings until you’re practically singing for him.

You could cum just like this, light pets of his tongue teasing your sensitive skin, but then he’s tugging the panties from your form, diving right back into your bare skin and you’re keening at the contact, your fingers knotting in his long hair. He groans in response to your moans, forearm flung lazily across your hips to keep you still as he wreaks havoc on you.

You open your mouth, ready to chastise him but the words instantly make way for cries as he finally swipes his tongue through your folds - fucking you with his mouth as he watches your form writhe.

“God, you taste amazing.” He moans, and you have to hold back a giggle. “What’s so funny?” Do you admit that you’d read him saying those very words far too many times to keep count?

But then he’s pulling away, leaving you whimpering at the precipice of release and the sight of his strong torso being revealed to your ends any thoughts you may have had. Especially when he reaches down and rids you of your own shirt, kissing across your collar bones once they’re exposed.

“You got any protection?” He asks suddenly, teeth scraping at your throat and you are suddenly aware of the fact that this is real life, not a fic, and wow you’d lost count of how many bareback smuts you’d read.

Not that the thought of Dean cumming inside you wasn’t the hottest thing ever, but the idea of pregnancy was something you didn’t even want to entertain at the moment.

So, begrudgingly, you pushed him off gently, bending down to rifle through your bag - hey, it never hurts to be prepared. You roll your eyes at his chuckle as you bend over, shaking your exposed backside at him - where he has taken your seat on the mattress - before rising to hand him the small, metallic square.

He toys with it for a few seconds, watching as you stand with a lip tugged gently between your teeth and your eyes flicker to the semi-hard shaft against his thighs. Long fingers enter your line of sight, coming to cup himself, stroking a few times as you watch him.

“See something you like, baby?” He asks, free hand coming up to run his thumb against your lips. You nod slowly, shivering at the new pet name, eyes never tearing from where he teases his cock. You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, Dean’s thumb accidentally catching where it had been against your lips and then he’s growling and pulling you to him.

Your lips crash together, a flash of pain as your teeth clack momentarily, but you’re far too lost in Dean’s intoxicating proximity to care. He seems to share the sentiment as your hands weave through his hair, pulling him closer as he moans and strokes himself faster before you straddle his strong thighs.

You consider grinding down against the taut muscle momentarily, but then Dean’s rolling the condom down his shaft, his knuckles brushing your folds as he does and all you want is for him to fill you up to the brim.

The desperation is clear on your face, wrapped in hooded eyes and a deep flush as you inhale deeply every time Dean’s knuckles brush you.

“Oh, my god!” You huff, getting ever so impatient. He chuckles at your tone, tugging you higher on his lap so that - finally - you’re aligned. A brief moment passes as you two eye each other hesitantly, your nerves on fire as you consider what it is you’re about to do.

You’re about to fuck one of your partners, one of your best friends…the man you’ve been fantasizing about for years.

“Ready?” He asks softly, testing the waters as he runs the head of his cock through your lips. Any hesitation you may have had melts with the shiver that travels your spine, and then some when Dean growls as you bare your nails into his shoulder blades.

“Dean, I swear to god, if you don’t fu-ck me!” You squeal the tail end of your sentence, Dean’s own groan disappearing into the skin of your shoulder as he slides home. Pain and pleasure flood your senses and suddenly you are highly aware of just how long it’s been.

“Shiiit,” Dean sighs at the tight fit, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and holding you still as he struggles to hold himself off.

It’s been a while for him, too.

“Jesus, you’re tight.” He hisses between his teeth, his brow as scrunched as yours no doubt is at the moment.

“And you’re huge.” He laughs then, the movement of his abs against your sensitive skin enough to have you sighing. “I, uh, think you’re good to move.” You say quietly, testing this theory with a slight brush forward of your hips. When delicious friction reaches your clit at the action you moan lowly. “Oh, yeah. Very good to move.”

And move he does, giving you a few moments as he slowly builds up the pace before falling back and letting you take the reigns. Your hands find his strong pecs as you fall forward at the sudden shift, and a shit-eating grin crosses your face. Dean misses this, however, as his eyes are screwed shut with pleasure.

“Fuck!” He groans when you begin to rut against him, dragging your clit against his adonis belt as his cock head catches against your insides perfectly. He doesn’t seem to mind this change, panting openly and quite vocally. Well, that is until his hands find your thighs and hold on tight. “Shit, slow down, baby…I don’t know how long I can last if you keep that up.”

You’re about to apologize, a flush very evident on your skin before Dean is manhandling you onto your back, your legs cast wide in his grasp.

“Let’s slow things down a little.” He teases, kissing your nose as you giggle and let him set the pace.

When he does, it’s dizzyingly slow, his teeth dragging against your skin as do his fingertips and after a few minutes of sinfully slow rocks of his hips, he is very quickly stringing you towards the edge.

“Dean,” You whimper, your walls beginning to flutter around him. The groan that milks from his chest is nothing short of sexy and you return one of your own. His name becomes a chant on your lips as pleasure rushes through your bloodstream, your nails digging into his taut back and after a few more thrusts of his own, he’s emptying inside the condom.

The high fades slowly, your skin buzzing in sated pleasure as a lazy smile takes place on your face. Dean is quiet, almost shy as he retreats to the restroom to clean himself and dispose of the condom. You snicker quietly to yourself at the thought that this detail is often left out of the fics you read, but the pleasant ache between your legs certainly isn’t.

“Well,” He says as he returns, slipping under the covers with you. As you shift, something digs into your side and when you bring the offending object above the covers do you realize that your phone had remained in the sheets that whole time. You hand it off to him as he tugs you closer, waving him to put it on the bedside table. “Aren’t you glad I decided to snoop?” He teases as he takes the contraption from you.

“Yeah, Yeah, Dee. But not as glad as I am that we can save on rooms by just booking us one bed from now on!”

You both chuckle at the jest, your giggles soon dying into labored breathing as your energy drains quickly against the warmth of Dean’s body wrapped around yours. Your eyes drift shut of their own accord, not noticing how Dean hesitates at placing your phone on the charger…again.

“Hey, baby?” He asks hesitantly, his eyes widening as he scrolls through your Tumblr feed and exposed to all sorts of sin.

“Hmm?” You hum, sleep tickling at your mind. That is until your eyes fly open wide at his following question.

“What’s Destiel?”

FIN

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marvelwitchergilmore · 4 months ago

Text

Fearless Hunter Saved

Summary: Dean Winchester x Fe!Reader -> You are the most fearless hunter Dean knows. But he also knows sometimes, even the most fearless, get scared.

Disclaimer: This is a lot of Sad-Fluff. Attacked by a vamp, descriptions and mentions of blood, cuts and old scars. This might get a follow-along, maybe. Not proof read.

Dean had known you long enough to know you didn’t get scared. Ever.

He might have only known you for six years, but it was longer than long enough to know when it came to Hunting - - you were one of the best.

But he also knew everyone had their point. Maybe not a breaking point, but a point big enough to scare even the most fearless of Hunters.

And for you, that was a Vamp hunt.

You had done plenty of Hunts in your time. Even long before you met the Winchester boys. Werewolves, Vampires, Ghosts, Ghouls…if it was dead, you could kill it.

But there was something about this hunt. This vampire nest.

It was a point.

Going into it, you were fine. You were normal.

Until Dean looked over and found you gone.

You had been fighting off a Vamp in the back corner of the barn last he had seen.

Then he heard a scream.

It wasn’t long until he found you; fighting for your life, weaponless, bleeding and getting weaker by the second.

“Beg for your life.” The vamp kept telling you. “Go ahead, beg. No-one will hear you scream. You want to die with dignity? A Hunter, turning into something they fear the most. Go ahead, beg for your life and I might just do you justice and make sure your friends have a quick death.”

You shook your head, trying your best to fight off the tears but clearly losing. “Please…please don’t-”

The vamp laughed, feeling your limbs weaken beneath their hands. Only, as you closed your eyes, expecting death, everything went silent.

The hands around your arms and the weight above your body became lighter and your chest…had never felt heavier.

It took three low breaths for you to focus your gaze on Dean who was standing above you, having kicked the decapitated body from yours.

“Dean…”

Then he finally got a clear look at your face.

The only emotion he could read was

Fear.

Replacing his blade by his side, he lowered himself towards you, helping you sit up a little.

“Hey, look at me, you’re okay.” He brushed the stray hairs from your face and tried his best to survey the cut across your head. “We got em’ all. You’re okay.”

Then, you hugged him. Tight.

You were known to hug both Sam and Dean a lot more often than any other Hunter, but it was never anything longer than three seconds and a quick check to make sure they were okay.

But this was different.

Dean could feel your entire body shaking in his arms. Your breathing was uneven to say the least and the grip of your fingers in his back were more than just a warning that you were terrified.

“Hey, Sweetheart, look at me. Hey,” Dean leaned back a little so he could see your face. “It’s gonna be okay.”

He brushed the tears from your eyes before pressing a kiss to your forehead and bringing you back to him.

“Keep your arms around my neck, okay?”

You nodded against him.

“I need words, darlin’. Need to hear your voice.”

“Okay.”

Your voice was quiet. Nervous. Shaking.

Dean pressed his hand to your head as he held you closer to him and lifted you up.

“Dean?! Dean! What’s-”

“Get in the car, Sam.”

Sam didn’t ask again. Instead, he packed up the rest of the kit as Dean carried you towards the car, opened up the door and helped you inside. When Sam slid into the passenger seat, he tried his best to gauge his brother’s reaction but couldn’t find an explanation.

All he had seen was you being picked up by Dean and carried to the car.

The drive that usually took two hours took far less to get home. And the entire way back, Dean’s gaze kept flicking to you in the rear view mirror. You didn’t look up once, and if you did, he didn’t catch you doing so.

From what he could see, your hands were still shaking and tears were still silently falling from your eyes.

In all the years he had known you, he had never once seen you cry.

It wasn’t an image he wanted to see again.

Seeing you cry pained him in a way he didn’t know even existed within him.

By the time he pulled into the Bunker, he rounded the car and helped you out of it, lifting you once more.

Your breathing had calmed a little against his neck but your body was still trembling.

“You’re safe, Sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

The next words out of Dean’s mouth felt like they were lightyears away. It was something to Sam, about…you couldn’t work out what.

And by the time you opened your eyes and looked up, Dean had sat you next to the double sink basin in one of the Bunker bathrooms.

“I’ll be back in a minute, Sweetheart, stay there.”

And you did.

Less than thirty seconds later, Dean returned with fresh towels, a first aid kit from your room, a change of clothes and one of his hoodies.

He had removed his jackets so now he stood in front of you, a little blood-stained, in a black t-shirt, jeans and boots.

“I’m gonna clean you up, so this might sting a little. But I need you to stay awake, okay.”

You nodded again.

“Words, Sweetheart. I need to hear your voice.”

You swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

You didn’t know how much time passed. Just that it had.

“Just count my breathing, Sweetheart.” Dean told you after a while.

Your breathing was becoming shallow, the longer it took for him to clean up your wounds. He didn’t want you to fall into a panic attack.

“Here.”

Taking your hand in his, he pressed two of your fingers against his pulse on his neck. “Just follow along.”

“Okay.”

By the time he finished, a string of “sorry”’s each time you hissed in pain - though it wasn’t often, Dean turned on the shower.

“Do…do you want me to help?”

Any other time, Dean would be thinking less and less with his brain and more and more with another. Except, this was different.

He had never seen you scared. Ever.

He’d seen you die. Twice. And each time come back fighting, stronger than ever.

But, sitting there. You looked like you were two seconds away from collapsing into a coma and waking up with a panic attack.

He didn’t want to leave you.

And you didn’t want to be alone.

“Please.”

Dean nodded and for the following fifteen minutes, tried his best to give you as much privacy as he could despite the fact he was the one lifting the clothes from your body.

And it just occurred to him that he had never truly seen your skin before.

Not in a sexual way, or at least, he wasn’t trying to think that way.

No, you were always covered up. You got dressed inside the bathroom after a shower. It was rare he saw you in something that wasn’t a pair of worn out jeans and a t-shirt. Even when he had seen you in a skirt or dress, it was always floor length or you wore tights.

But now he was seeing…you.

From your back alone, there were at least a dozen small scars and half a dozen deep ones that had been stitched at some point or another.

New bruises were forming on your sides from where you had been fighting against The Vamp. And your legs…a couple of nicks from a razor or two, a couple of bruises mid thigh which he could only guess was from each time you seemed to catch the corner of a table when you walked in the library. And then one large rounding scar that was bleeding.

Thankfully, it looked like it would heal quickly. It was more of a scar that you would get from a dog. Red, sore for a day or two. But this time you’d have some scabs to go with it where your skin had opened.

Dean helped you tilt your head back under the water before he washed out the muck and blood with a double shampooing.

He had removed his boots and socks to step a little further inside the shower with you, the water dampening his jeans a little and the suds from your hair flicking onto his t-shirt every now and again.

But he couldn’t care less.

His focus remained on you. You swayed on the spot every now and again, and Dean made sure he kept talking to you, giving you quiet directions on what to do and where to turn so he could wash the suds from your hair and body.

Once finished, he held out a towel for you which you stepped into and wrapped around your body as he leaned around you and stepped towards the shower to switch it off.

By the time he was back in front of you, you leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around you without a second thought.

“You’re safe, Sweetheart. No-one can hurt you. Not here.”

Once more, Dean helped you get dressed, being sure to check over the cut on your leg. He helped pull the last of your hair from down your back as you squeezed what was left of the water into a towel.

Less than an hour later, Dean was showered and changed and brought a glass of water to your bedside. Except, as he leaned down and kissed the top of your head, you held onto his t-shirt.

“Stay with me?”

It took him a second to realise you were asking him to stay.

You never asked anyone to stay.

He nodded. “Just give me a minute.”

You pulled the cover from under you and scooted down the bed a little, soon joined by Dean.

As he got in beside you, he pulled you closer to his side. And you both stayed like that for a while.

“I was so scared.”

Dean stilled for a moment before turning his head to face you. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I think I need to.”

He kissed the top of your head. “Then I’ll listen.”

“I didn’t even see it coming. I just got rid of one of them before I felt someone pull me back. I thought it was Sam, at first. But then he threw me. When I hit the ground, I couldn’t even tell where I was. And then they were above me. They must have hit me with my blade because all I felt was this…sharp, cold air on my head. And it was making me dizzy. I didn’t have time to get on my feet and by the time I opened my eyes…they were there. They just kept telling me to beg for my life. And every time they did, it was seven years ago. I was on my own – just before Bobby called me and said he needed my help.”

Dean could remember that day. Bobby had been talking about some woman hunter he knew about that could maybe help the boys if needed.

The day he met you, Bobby walked them both through the kitchen and into the living room where you were walking around, running your fingers over a couple of book spines before pulling one out and leafing through it. Bobby called your name and you looked up, replacing the book and walking over, a side-arm attached to your hip, holding out your hand and shaking both his and Sam’s.

“It was a normal ghost hunt. Easy. But I didn’t count on the ghost coming to defend their own grave. From what I knew, they should have been hunting for their next victim. Either way, I was thrown and I could feel their hand burning my skin, screaming for me to beg for my life. Bobby had asked about the make-up on my neck when he saw me a few weeks later. I said I was fine. And I was. But after today…”

You shook your head and Dean felt you wipe away your own tears.

Scooting down a little, Dean turned his body so you were no longer lying on his chest but instead curled into it.

Dean moved your hand from your face and replaced it with his own, and placed his own forehead against yours.

His thumb brushed just a little under your eye, catching the tears as they fell.

“I’m sorry you went through that on your own. You’re allowed to be scared, but you should never be scared alone.”

“T-Thank you, for helping me.”

Dean shook his head. “You never have to thank me for helping you. Even the best of us need help.”

You tried your best to stop them, but they flowed anyway.

“I’m so sorry,”

Dean’s heart broke.

Dean shook his head once more, holding you tighter against him and your own hands gripped at his t-shirt.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

That night, Dean held you close to him, not once letting you go. And you fell asleep, crying in his arms.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #fluff #sad fluff #dean winchester x fe!reader #spn family #spn #supernatural #dean supernatural #vampire #spn x reader #hunter!reader #bobby singer #sam winchester #dean x reader

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apocalypseornaw · 2 months ago

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Chapter One

When you make it to Lebanon you didn't expect to have neighbors, let alone for your neighbor to be the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on.

(Also before anyone worries Ben and Hayley = Charlie and Dean)

The silence that had fallen in the car would've been near deafening had it not been for the radio keeping you company. Miles flew by and despite knowing you should probably stop you also knew you only had a few more miles and you could make it to Lebanon, where Simon had already rented you a place. You could have a secure roof over the kids head and a form a plan for your next step.

You chanced a glance in the rear view mirror and nearly jumped out of your skin when Hayley met your gaze in the mirror. She grinned in the darkness of the backseat "The sun's coming up mom. You haven't gotten any sleep. Do you want me to drive a bit?" She hadn't long gotten her license and while she'd proven so far to be a safe driver given the circumstances you didn't want to chance it.

"I'll be ok. Once we hit Kansas we can grab some food. Simon said the house is already all set up so you can amuse Amelia and James while I catch a cat nap then we can explore Lebanon a bit and get a feel for what will be our home for the next year or so" she nodded and glanced from her left where James was fast asleep in his car seat to her right where Amelia was sleeping as well.

There was times you'd wake up and find her just sitting between the two of them as if she was keeping guard, even though you two slept with their beds between yours. It was like she was wanting to be the first line between her little siblings and danger. On one hand you were proud of her for helping with her like she did but on the other hand she was still just a teenager herself and christ everything she'd had dumped on her. The shit she'd seen and the secrets she carried, secrets to protect you.

"You can drive while we check out Lebanon and maybe we can even pick up some baking supplies for you" she brightened a bit at the prospect of baking and you felt your chest loosen just a bit. You hated this, you hated never staying in one place too long, never being able to trust anyone besides Simon and his wife Kiya. You hated your kids never knowing security. You hated that your sixteen year old knew what she knew and that your four year olds thought moving every few months was normal.

You let out a breath that was louder than you meant for it to be and felt Hayley bump your shoulder "Don't do that. You keep us moving to keep us safe. I get that. When they get old enough they'll get that too" you glanced in the mirror and gave her a greatful albeit tearful smile "You're a pretty decent kid, you know that?" She scrunched up her nose when she grinned before saying "Well lady you're the one who raised me"

You double checked the paperwork Simon had sent you yet again. "Hayley this is the right address isn't it?" You passed it over to her since she'd joined you in the front seat after the twins had woke up, all of you had stopped for breakfast then gotten back on the road. She looked down at the stack of papers then back up at the house that you were currently parked in the driveway of. "Yes ma'am but dang this is out our normal pay grade isn't it?"

You nodded slowly. The house wasn't anything extraordinary but it was nice, a one story Victorian and in a decent neighborhood. You shrugged "Lets check it out. Maybe they worked their magic and got it cheaper" she laughed "They're better than the Prue and Piper at this point"

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

You turned the engine of the car off then climbed out. Hayley grabbed James out of his car seat and had him on her hip so you grabbed Amelia and motioned for her to follow you.

You followed the walkway up to the door while digging the key out of your pocket. Amelia pulled at your necklace, fiddling with the pendant and looking around at the squirrels chasing each other around the yard. Part of you expected the key to not work but when you slid it into the door it turned with no issue. You raised an eyebrow at Hayley then pushed the door in.

"Dad!" Ben's voice echoed through the house and Dean stifled a groan as he walked down the stairs "If you're telling me you finished the coffee again kid I swear.."

Ben was standing at the kitchen window with a coffee cup in hand "No sir. There's plenty left but someone moved in next door"

That was news to Dean. That was one of Bobby's places and normally he'd run it by Dean before renting it just to make sure the tenants would be a nuisance or anything. "I wonder why your grandpa didn't tell anybody. Think he's getting forgetful in his old age?" Dean asked Ben with a smirk as he went about making his coffee to his own taste before joining his son at the window.

"We're looking like a few nosy old hags you know that right?" He scoffed and Ben shrugged then pointed "Someone's coming out" Dean watched as a woman walked out the house. She was wearing jeans, a old Scooby-Doo tshirt and had a flannel tied around her waist like she'd been wearing it then gotten hot as she'd started moving around, a haphazard looking braid kept her hair out of her face but even exhausted looking he had to admit she was beautiful.

Ben cut his eyes up at Dean "She's hot right?" "Benjamin" Dean warned and got a laugh as an answer "I don't mean for my age! I mean for your age dad! Shes hot for you right?" "Don't you have graduation practice in a couple hours?" Dean asked and Ben nodded, still watching the window as the woman balanced an armload of dufflebags to carry into the house "We should introduce ourselves to the neighbors. Grandpa Bobby would smack us for being rude"

"You need to get ready and so do I. If she's outside we'll introduce ourselves but she's visibly busy, so we're not intruding, understood?" "Yes sir" Ben answered with a smirk that was a mirror of Dean's own expression.

You always joked you owed Simon and Kiya everything and it seemed as if they kept adding onto the list. Not only had they found you a nice place in a nice neighborhood at an extremely low price but it was furnished!

There was two twin beds, a queen bed and couch so everyone was covered. The working plan was to move the twin beds into the room with the queen beds and you could make a pallet on the floor so you could be in the room with the kids.

There was even a breakfast Nook with a small table and plates and cups that you had a feeling had come from Kiya. If you ever got out from under all this you owed them something huge.

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

You'd gotten all your clothing squared away and decided to go grocery shopping. You had Amelia on your hip and Hayley grabbed James. You'd just locked the door and was about to turn around when you heard Hayley say "Mom, um we got neighbors"

You turned around, one hand on your purse when you spotted two people walking towards you. One was a teenager, he was probably eighteen at best. Dark hair, barely there stubble and a bright smile.

The man that was close to your age was obviously his dad from looks alone and was unfairly good looking if you were being honest. Light brown hair and a thick stubble covering a sculpted jaw line that looked like the Greek gods themselves would be jealous over. He was a bit over six foot and when he got closer you realized he had green eyes that were a shade of damn near emerald.

You shifted Amelia a bit and spotted Hayley do the same to James out the corner of your eye. The man spoke first, clearing his throat "I don't want to intrude or anything ma'am but my son and I want to introduce ourselves since it seems we'll be neighbors" he offered his hand so you shook it with a small smile as he said "I'm Dean..Winchester and this is my son Ben" "Winchester, like the rifle?" You asked and he laughed "Yes ma'am. Like the rifle"

You cut your eyes at Hayley before saying "My names Y/N...Iverson" that was the last name Simon told you to use this time. "And this is my oldest Hayley and my twins James and Amelia" Dean smiled at each kid in turn "Nice to meet you all. Is it just you and the kids?" You nodded "Afraid so"

He smiled softly "Well it's just me and Ben so I understand, though three?" He let out a sharp whistle "You're stronger than me" he grinned then said "Well if you need anything we're right next door" you nodded "Nice meeting you"

He nodded to Hayley and Ben told you all it was nice meeting you before following his dad. Once they were out of ear shot Hayley cut her eyes at you and you shook your head "Do not" she cackled like a mad woman. She'd clocked you checking out Dean and while there was not a chance in hell you letting yourself even consider a man after the hell you'd been through it was nice to hear her laugh.

You shook your head "Lets go get food child" she grinned "Oh let's. Better get some water too" "Why water?" Amelia asked and you glared at Hayley playfully "So I can pour it over your sister's head. James laughed "I'll help"

#supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #tired of running masterlist #au dean winchester x reader #non hunter dean au

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lovelywritinglady · 11 months ago

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Secrets Suck, Man

Sam Winchester x fem!reader

With Dean being heavily against the idea of dating while on the job, Sam and you figure out secret ways to be together without Dean knowing. Except, here’s the thing, he already knows.

Angst, fluff, cute stuff with Sam. Takes place during Season 12.

Third Person Pov

"Sam, how many times do I need to tell ya that it's a bad idea. Hunters don't get a normal life and if they did, they ain't hunters no more." Dean lectured Sam who sat in the passenger seat of their 1967 Chevrolet Impala.

"Dean, all I'm saying is maybe it's not a bad idea to be with a hunter. At least you both understand the life and the risks." Sam pleated with Dean trying to get him to see his point of view on the situation.

"Dude, you really want to watch the person you love die because you were busy saving someone else?" Dean asks seriously.

"No, I wouldn't want that even if I wasn't a hunter, Dean. But at some point, I think it's okay as long as both parties understand the risk." Sam spoke with coming off harsher than before.

"Drop it, you know my thoughts on it Sam. It's not a good idea." Dean jabbed back as he turned up the radio to some 80's rock song.

"Fine." Sam sighed in defeat knowing that his plan to try to tell Dean that he already had a girlfriend and that person happened to be you.

Two hours later...

Sam and Dean made their way into the bunker where you were. Sam saw you and gave you a quick, but loving smile. While you waited on them to return, you read the same lore books hoping to find something new in them only to be disappointed again. You smiled back at him making sure that Dean didn't notice you looking at Sam. Speaking of Dean he said a quick hello and sat down on the chair in front of you kicking his muddy boots up on the table.

"Hey, I'm glad your back and everything Dean, but take your shoes off the table please." You asked him rolling your eyes.

"Whatever, did you find anything in the lore about Nephilim" He questioned doing what you asked.

"Same as before, I still only know what I've read for the millionth time and Cas's knowledge." you sighed rubbing your hand around your sore neck. This caught Sam's attention and he made a mental note to himself to help you out later.

"Don't worry we'll figure it out, we've just got to keep looking." Sam reassured putting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Yeah, don't worry about it Y/n, we've delt with worse and won." Dean butted in.

"Yeah, I think the apocalypse and the darkness are a lot worse than this by far. I'd still rather deal with a nest of vamps than this though." You half joked.

"You and me both." Dean sighed getting up out of his seat and walking towards the hallway. "I'm gonna take a much-needed shower see you guys at dinner." Dean spoke walking away to the showers.

As soon as he was gone you rushed towards Sam and gave him a hug. Breathing him in and feeling his body against yours invited instant comfort and happiness to your stressed-out body and mind. And to Sam, he found the same comfort as his arms immediately wrapped around you as he placed his left check on the top of your head. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes allowing himself to be in the moment with you and forget all of the shit that is piled on them once again. He loved you and even having a little time alone was worth the world to him. After some time of just being there with him, your curiosity became too much and the elephant in the room needed to be addressed.

"Baby, what did Dean say?" You asked him raising your head while still holding Sam in your arms. He looked at you with a sad but loving gaze as you waited on his response.

"Same thing as before, he's against it." Sam sighed sadly. "But I don't care he can just deal with it. Secrets suck and I'm tired of keeping our feelings for one another away from Dean. I mean even Cass knows." Sam spoke trying to convince you.

"Yeah, I get that, I just really don't want an angry Dean top of the shit pile that we already have. I really want to tell him, don't get me wrong, I'm just scared to see how he'll react. Hell, I'd rather face Amara again than tell Dean, but I think it's important that we do." You pleaded with him trying to get him to see your point of view.

"Baby, if Dean gets mad that's on him. We are both adults and I think it'll be okay. I know your nervous, but trust me Dean at his core is a really big softie." He reassured rubbing your arms up and down.

"I still feel weird about it, but I think I'm just scared of his reaction, mostly." You whispered putting your forehead on the center of his chest.

"We don't need to tell him right now, we can wait as long as you need." Sam

“Thank you Sammy, that means a lot.” You say smiling at his sweetness.

Just as you two were about to break your hugs out comes Dean wearing his grey robe with an annoyed expression on his face. You were nervous and could tell that had whenever was wrong was serious.

“Dammit, If you two are gonna be together be fucking careful because this life ain’t pretty for us. I’ll support it if you guys do that. I guess some of us should have something good in this shit show.” Dean quickly said before a leaking away. As he did he did a double take. “And you two need to get better at whispering because I could hear everything.” He said annoyed as he walked away.

You both stood there dumbfounded at what just happened. You looked at each other and laughed at the situation. Sam then leaned down and captured your lips into a soft and sweet kiss. He broke the kiss giving you another big smile as he chuckled.

“Well I guess the secrets out.” Sam joked

“Yeah, and by what he said I guess he’s known for awhile now.” You say letting out a deep breath hugging Sam closer relieved that you don’t need to hide out of fear.

“Yeah, I’m just glad that with all of the shit that’s been happening that I still have you by my side. And no matter what I’ll be there for you.” He reassured

“Aww Sammy me too, I love you. And Dean’s right we should be careful about all of this.” You told Sammy nearly sounding like Dean.

“You’re right about that. And Deans right about another thing too. That it’s good that we’ve found happiness in this shit show.” Sam smiled.

“Yeah, we really did. I love you Sammy Winchester.” You proclaimed

“I love you too Y/n L/n.” Sam responded hugging you tighter.

Thank you so much for reading 💜

Please feel free to comment, request, and reblog

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L

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the-halloween-jack · 6 months ago

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ｒｅｖｅｎａｎｔ－ｓｅｖｅｎ

PART SEVEN OF 'REVENANT' SERIES Damon Salvatore x Winchester!Sister!Hunter!Reader The Vampire Diaries x SupernaturalMini-Series Synopsis: Y/N Winchester was tired of living in her brothers' shadows; she needed to do something for herself for a change. When she heads to Mystic Falls, a town she was always warned to stay away from, she finds she may have taken on more than she can handle. Will she be able to eradicate the supernatural from the uncanny town? Or will she find herself tangled amongst it? WARNINGS: Descriptions of violence. Words: 3,277k Blog Masterlist / Series Masterlist <Previous Part | Next Part (Coming Soon) >

The first thing Y/N registered when she woke up on an uncomfortable wooden table was an enigmatic lack of pain, there should have been pain. Memories of an excruciating white-hot agony from her back followed by a cascading stream of blood came back to her; she had been injured on the hunt. However, upon pulling down the back of her shirt and looking over her shoulder, no such wound could be found. Her skin was completely bare. She recalled memories of her brothers clutching onto her limp body, their tears mixing in with her blood.

Everything had gone dark, and her body had fallen limp.

She was dead. Or at least she had been. Y/N had already concluded that her brothers had done something inconceivably stupid, that maybe, one of them, had sold their souls. Y/N could feel tears welling up in her eyes, this had been her fault. If she had never begun the Mystic Falls case this would not be happening. The tears that had welled suddenly ran hot down her face. She could not lose either one of her brothers like this. Something had to be done. Though through her tears Y/N did not register the sound of a scuffle swiftly approaching her.

‘Y/N?…’ Her head whipped up to the sound of her name.

‘How… are you… alive…?’ Dean whispered as Sam’s eyes widened,

‘Oh please… god no… don’t say it…’ he winced, Dean looked up with furrowed eyebrows,

‘Don’t say what? Sammy?’

But Sam did not need to say anything, the realisation hit Y/N like a wave of paralysis. She had had vampire blood in her system. She counted the time back in her head. When she had died, it had been less than twenty-four hours since Damon had saved her the night before. Neither of her brothers had sold their souls and the relief she felt at the revelation was as sweet as sugar. However, this relief quickly turned to aghast and her stomach twisted unpleasantly.

There were only two options for her now.

Death.

Or an eternal life as a monster she had been raised to detest.

‘No, no, no… no, no… no’ She began to claw at the bare skin that should have been holding a fatal stab wound as she repeated her denial over and over. She then lifted her fingers to her scalp rubbing her temples as she began to rock back and forth. The lights and sounds of the motel’s run-down suite were suddenly too much for her and she shuddered when she realised why.

‘Y/N calm down, you’re scaring me, just minutes ago Sam and I refused to accept that we should be burying you… and now… how…’ Dean's voice was nervous and confused,

‘Dean… I think she had vampire blood in her system…’ Sam whimpered, Dean’s shocked gasp only worsened her state, she began sobbing openly,

‘Sam… How could you possibly know…?’ She thought of everything she had said about Mystic Falls since their reunion and she was confident she had never mentioned she knew a vampire personally. Sam winced, her question confirming his fears.

‘You seemed pretty evasive in the car when we were asking about Mystic Falls, but you mentioned there were vampires…’ Sam paused for a moment,

‘You were dead, Y/N. And now you’re not. There aren’t many things that could do that.’ Sam explained, his voice hollow.

‘Which blood-sucking freak did this to you?! Was it this Damon…?!’ Dean's booming voice made Y/N flinch,

‘He didn’t have a choice, I would’ve died then too…’ She muttered,

‘Well, maybe he should have let you.’ He said bitterly, Y/N could see the instantaneous regret on the eldest Winchester’s face, but that did not soften the blow of his cruel words.

‘Wait! I only meant that… if you had died then… we could have brought you back another way… as a human’

Though it seemed to Y/N that Dean had only added this to cover his outburst so without saying anything further, Y/N got up from the rickety table and swiftly made her way to the bathroom, grabbing her bags as she went.

‘Y/N… Wait!’ Sam called,

‘I need a shower’ She muttered as she slammed the door behind her. This was not a lie, however, she had no intention of staying afterwards.

As the water turned warm she peeled the bloodied clothes from her skin and placed them on the toilet seat; deciding that Sam and Dean could deal with them later. The water ran red around her feet, it seemed like she had been scrubbing at her skin perpetually, grateful when the shower eventually turned clear. She put on the first things she could find in her bag, relieved to be in fresh clothes.

Y/N understood it was not safe to be around her brothers at the moment, and besides, after what Dean had said, she did not wish to be. She studied the bathroom, looking for her best way out. The window was high above the bathtub and if she stood on the edge she could pull herself up and out. She plugged in the hairdryer, needing a loud sound to buffer hers.

With utmost care, she tried her best to push the window open with little noise. She was convinced it had been years since it was opened, as it groaned and resisted the disturbance. She first put her bags through and then hauled herself up, landing with a soft thud.

Y/N made her way across the darkening street, and sighed, how long had she been ‘asleep’? Through glazed eyes, she scrolled through the names of her contacts and once finding the one she was after, she lifted the device to her ear.

‘Damon, where are you? We need to talk…’ Her voice broke.

Through clouded eyes, Y/N watched as Damon’s old blue Chevy pulled over, she had asked to meet him a few blocks down as she had been hiding, knowing full well her brothers would be looking for her by now. Her countless missed calls said so. She was quick to get in.

‘Please drive’ She muttered

‘Hey, are you okay?’ His eyebrows furrowed and he reached out to push the hair from her face, though when she flinched away from his touch, Damon quickly retracted his hand.

‘Y/N…?’

‘Just drive, please.’

Damon took his car out of park and pulled out onto the street. The hours that followed travelling back to Mystic Falls were filled with a taut silence, though Damon often made small glances in Y/N’s direction, every time he tried to speak up his attempt was dismissed, though it seemed he could not wait any longer,

‘Would you please tell me what’s wrong?’

Y/N considered whether it was appropriate to tell him in the car, though she quickly ridiculed this thought; her time was limited.

‘After I left town, my brothers and I went on a hunt…’ Damon did not like the idea of Y/N hunting, putting herself in unnecessary danger, but did not understand why this would leave her so dejected, he assumed she would have been looking forward to spending some time with them.

Damon felt a small, nagging frustration at her brothers, many things could have gone awry on a hunt, and he hated the idea of them putting her in harms way intentionally. However, as he examined her from head to toe, he realised she seemed physically fine.

When he did not speak, Y/N elaborated.

‘I was injured, really badly…’ Y/N felt herself recoil, she did not want to think about the situation she was in and what she would have to do if she went through with it. Damon looked her over again,

‘What happened? I can’t see anything.’ His words were dubious, yet he still felt queasy at the idea she was hurt. She sighed and closed her eyes,

‘Damon… I died..’

The silence that hung in the air was palpable, Y/N swore she could have sliced it with a blade. A small gasp passed his lips so quiet she shivered; aware the soft sound could only be heard with her newly inhumane sense of hearing. Damon felt an all-consuming anger, how could they have let her die? How could they be so reckless?

He felt nauseated, knowing how close he had been to never seeing her again. Imagining her cold and unresponsive figure sent tremors through his system.

‘Y/N… My blood…’ She could not hold back her tears anymore, everything that had been tormenting her since she fled from her brothers’ company consumed her. She vaguely noticed Damon pulling over his car and before she could say anything further, he had already sped around to her door and pulled her out; enveloping her in an unyielding embrace.

‘I’m so sorry, I know you would never have wanted this… ’ he choked out, seeing her suffering created his own. But he could not quell the selfish contentment he derived from this. Soon Y/N will be a vampire, she will be powerful; and immortal. She will be adept at protecting herself when he is not able. But more desirably, a life with her is within reach. She will not age, as he has not for a century and a half. He could have eternity with her.

However, Y/N’s next words abruptly stifled this concept.

‘It’s okay, I would have died anyway, at least now I have the chance to say goodbye to everyone’

Y/N did not remember coming to this conclusion, but as the words flowed from her mouth she knew it was the right decision, though her thoughts halted when a realisation struck her; she had stormed out on her brothers and now she would probably never see them again, she must have been hours away from their motel by now. Damon drew back from their tight embrace, horrorstruck, again he pictured her cold and unresponsive; he felt those horrible tremors flood his being once more.

‘Y/N? What do you mean goodbye? Don’t tell me… you're planning on…’ Although he did not finish his sentence Y/N knew exactly what he was trying to say,

‘I can’t turn Damon, I’ve grown up hunting the very thing I will become, my brothers won’t be able to look me in the eye, hell, they may even want to kill me. My father would turn in his grave if he thought I was even considering it.’ Her words flowed hot and fast much like the tears streaming down her face,

‘I can’t become a monster Damon, let’s just say I took on the Stefan diet or drank from blood bags, it would never last, have you ever heard of a vampire that’s never killed? They don’t exist. One day I’ll lose control and someone will lose their life because of it, I can’t, I won’t become a killer…’

Damon's buried rationality knew what she was saying was right, but he could not accept the fact she wanted to die. No, he would do everything in his power to get her to stay. He had lost too many people in his century and a half of existence, but nothing had hurt him like this would.

‘Please Y/N, please don’t do this, mistakes happen and I can’t promise you anything, but you’re going to have so many people helping you, and I’m sure every one of us will do everything in our power to make sure no one is hurt because of this, Please… I can’t lose you…’ When his voice broke on the last words Y/N shut her eyes and sighed she hated hurting him like this,

‘Damon, I can’t… Please understand…’ she whimpered, Damon shaking his head in denial,

‘I need to call my brothers, I left without saying goodbye.’

Her body was riddled with guilt, how could she justify leaving them at a time like this? What had she been thinking? Y/N decided she would call them, it would be better than nothing. Though before she had the chance to ring them and make the broken ends meet, she realised hollowly that Damon was nowhere to be seen. She looked around the darkening street, she could see every last detail; a feat her eyes would not have been able to achieve a day ago. Damon had left her alone, his engine still running.

She hated seeing him like this, she hated knowing that she was the reason he was hurting; and from what she had been told, Damon was not reasonable when he was hurt. How had they gotten to be this way? Hunter and vampire, trying to court each other.

She decided she should probably look for him, but before she could trek further down the lonesome street she was struggling against the pull of strong arms around her. Looking down she observed an ornate lapis lazuli ring, the very one Y/N knew Damon wore, what could he possibly be doing? Y/N had just been about to call out when she felt warm skin against her mouth, she assumed Damon had been preventing her from yelling when the taste of a warm metallic liquid met her lips. Damon was holding a stranger against her, pressing her wrist to her mouth. Y/N felt a sense of alarm growing in the back of her mind but before she could try and writhe from his iron grip the taste turned sweet; she stopped struggling, not able to remember why she wanted to escape in the first place, and clutched the wrist of the stranger closer still. She wanted this sensation to last forever, she had never tasted anything as delectable, but it all ended too soon when Damon pulled the girl from her arms.

‘Don’t worry, she’s not dead.’ Y/N watched in horror as the skin under his eyes formed inky black veins and newly formed fangs met his wrist, when Damon placed his bloodied skin to the mouth of the limp girl the weight of what had happened crushed her.

‘Damon… What did you do?…’ Y/N’s voice was low and dangerous, she turned away from his rueful grimace, a puddle on the street showing that her face now mirrored his. Awful black veins protruded beneath her eyes, she watched as the sclera of her eyes shifted back from red to white.

‘I know you may never forgive me, I understood that before I did it, but I couldn’t let you go through with it, I couldn’t let you die.’

Y/N felt a white-hot rage grow in her chest,

‘THAT WASN’T YOUR DECISION TO MAKE!’ She pushed against his unyielding frame, her newfound strength still nothing to his century and a half. His lips formed a straight line and his eyes glassed over.

‘I’m sorry Y/N, I’m so sorry…’ His words were whispered, she could hear his pain but she refused to pity him.

‘Damon… I was meant to die…’ She trailed off, ‘My brothers…. They’ll want to kill me…’

‘No, no, this can’t happen…no.’ She began to pace the street, back and forth, rubbing her temples. She was ready to die, she would have been at peace; something now forever out of reach. She looked towards Damon, his tears were falling freely now, face contorted into a tortured expression.

‘Damon… why…?’ Her voice was broken, she turned away.

Her anger dwindled, like sand through her fingers. Because despite everything he had done, she did not want to see him hurt. She wanted to hate him for what he did, to scream and shout, but she could not find it within herself to detest him. No, she could never hate him.

Would she not commit the same, selfish act for the person she loved? Would she not have done it too, if the roles had been reversed? For a moment, she considered the awful concept of Damon’s death and all the abominable things she would do to prevent it. And if this dark imagining of hers occurred anyway, she knew she would go to great, grim lengths to reverse it. She realised Damon had only done exactly as she would do, he had only done what the Winchester siblings had already done; many times over.

Y/N recalled the potent fear she felt, as she lay dying. She had thought she would never see Damon again and that pain had been more excruciating than her fatal wound. And here he was standing before her, his expression distorted to regretful woe because he had only wanted her to live. She once again pondered what it would mean to never see him again, she felt a distant echo of that earlier pain; maybe she had not been ready to die after all.

At this moment, she was only angry with herself. Y/N knew that none of this would have occurred if she had not gone to Mystic Falls. But what surprised her the most, was that she also could not find it within herself to regret any of this. Everything Y/N had done, led her to meet him; and meeting Damon had been the greatest procurement of her life, or rather, exsistence. This realisation crushed her like an avalanche; exsistence. ‘Life’ no longer applied to her, she was immortal. Y/N would exist forever.

She began to consider what forever truly meant. A hundred years from now, Y/N would stand before her reflection, and she would look exactly as she does at this moment. The world would have changed to a vast extent, but she would remain unchanging.

Only yesterday she had yearned to wake up beside Damon every morning and spend all day by his side. Y/N had longed to listen to his stupid jokes and talk endlessly with him until night fell and they could begin over again. Eternity had made that possible. And in a hundred years when she looked into that mirror, she could now envision Damon by her side; as he was now. Her heart swelled with a palpable warmth. Maybe eternity was not so bad.

Damon observed her deliberation, waiting for her to explode. She realised her demeanour must have changed completely during her sudden erudition, as she turned back she noticed Damon now donned an expression of dubiety. But she did not take the time to explain, instead rushing to envelop him in her embrace, leaning back far enough to connect her lips with his, she could taste his drying tears.

Y/N had surprised him, but he melted into her kiss anyway. She could feel his tense trepidation flow out from beneath her fingertips, as he sighed, content. Damon could not comprehend her sudden tranquil composure, he knew he most certainly did not deserve it. He assumed what he had done would have driven her away for good, he had understood that when he acted. But Damon refused to live in a world where she did not exist, even if it meant she was not with him; it was enough to know she would be alive and well. Never would he have imagined she would accept this so willingly, what had changed in her few moments of quiet thought?

Y/N finally pulled away and rested her forehead against his.

‘I hope you know you’re stuck with me now?’ Her voice was quiet,

Damon’s laugh was relieved, coming out in an exhaled breath; his voice still holding the faint hallmarks of someone with regret.

‘That’s all I’ve wanted.’

TAG LIST:

@venomsvl

@serenity-fujakante

@tonystarkwifey

@lively-potter

@deanwanddamons

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cat-loves-music · 9 months ago

Text

Random Person: Ew fanfiction is weird

Me: It’s the only way someone will love me like I need them to.

#harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry’s house #harry styles imagine #writing inspiration #harry potter #theo nott #writing prompts #criminal minds imagines #delulu #hunter!reader x dean winchester #dean winchester

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pinkiebieberpie · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! I would like to request Dean hearing his gf screaming from the bathroom and him running up there guns a blazeing when it was just a spider 😭 basically how he would react in this situation

this is so funny, i can imagine this 😭😭

when he heard a scream he thought that something horrible happened, like you broke a leg for example,

"what, what is wrong?!" you screamed like you just saw a ghost so he was worried,

"there is a giant spider in here!! dean, i mean like huuge!!"

and he is now just looking at you and blinking,

"babe, we are fighting monsters and you are scared of a spider?"

"yeah, they are small and... hairy... fuckin disgusting!"

he just shook his head and without saying anything else he just killed the spider,

"i will use this information against you one day, baby, you know that?" dean chuckles because this is just so funny to him,

but he is not trying to be mean, in fact he thinks this is kinda cute.

supernatural masterlist

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underground-secret · 7 months ago

Text

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x F! reader

Description: When Dean gets a call from an "old friend" asking for help, old feelings resurface leaving for messy feelings and a complicated hunt.

Warnings: canon violence, feelings of unrequited love, angst, loving someone being difficult, corpses, crime scenes, cursing, mentions of racism, racist ghost truck?

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 , @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool

Word Count: 9,251

Route 666

(Master list, Prev Ch, Next Chapter)

I lean against the expanse of the Impala, letting the bright sun shine over me. It was one of those cold but not cold days, where as long as the sun was hitting you it was perfectly right. Sam is next to me looking over the large map he has laid out on the hood of the car, trying to look for a way around a closed-off road.

I’m glad he knew what he was doing ‘cause my map and geography skills only went so far before I was lost.

Meanwhile, Dean was off to the side, his phone pressed to his ear his brows furrowed whoever he was talking to was clearly telling him something important and maybe shocking.

“Ok. I think I found a way we can bypass that construction just East of here,” Sam informs gaining my attention, “We might even make Pennsylvania faster than we thought.” I nod, taking advantage of his hunched-over figure to ruffle his hair, “Nice work, map man.” He snorts, rolling his eyes as he pushes my arm away playfully.

“Yeah. ‘Problem is, we’re not going to Pennsylvania” Dean points out, closing his phone and looking at it thoughtfully. I look at him confused, “We aren’t…?” He nods, wetting his lips, “I just got a call from an, uh, old friend. Her father was killed last night, think it might be our kind of thing.”

“What?” Sam vocalizes. “Yeah. Believe me, she never woulda called, never, if she didn’t need us” Dean clarifies. Without giving us any more information or even a chance to contemplate or counter his statement he gets in the car, “Come on, are you coming or not?”

The Impala cruises down the expanse of the road, a long beautifully green field on one side and a lake on the other. “By old friend you mean…?” Sam asks the question we were both undeniably thinking. “A friend that’s not new” Dean grumbles.

“Oh! Thanks, genius” I remark, he was being weird and that alone was not helping his case. “‘Said her name’s Cassie huh?” Sam said, trying a different angle, “You never mentioned her…”

“Didn’t I?” Dean remarks. He wasn't very good at hiding this one, the car falling silent in the wake of his stupid answer. He finally huffs, “Yeah, we went out.”

“You mean you dated somebody?” Sam asks with a snort, “For more than one night?”

“Oh come on Sammy we're all adults here, we’ve all dated before” I chime in with a smirk. He turns around in his seat, facing me with an expectant look, “Are we talking about the same person here? Dean doesn't date.” Sam exclaims and I push down the ache of that implication, “And aren’t you the least bit curious.”

“Oh no, I am,” I nod enthusiastically, laughing lightly, “I want all the details. I was just tryna be nice.”

He snickers, turning back to his brother, “You heard her, we want all the details.”

I swear Dean’s eye practically twitches, “Am I speaking a language you’re not getting here? Dad and I were working a job in Ohio, she was finishing up college. We went out for a coupla weeks.”

I want to ask how long ago this was, was it months before his dad disappeared or a year or more ago, but I hold back on my questioning. “And…?” Sam pushes. Dean shrugs slightly.

“Look, it’s terrible about her dad, but it kinda sounds like a standard car accident. I’m not seeing how it fits with what we do,” Sam reasons, “Which by the way, how does she know what we do?”

Dean doesn't answer again, silently shifting in his seat uncomfortably. The realization hits me like a brick, “Oh. My. God,” I lean forward in my seat almost getting choked out by my seatbelt, “You told her! You broke the number one hunting rule! You know, not telling anyone, ever!”

“More than that!” Sam adds, “It’s our big family rule. Number one. We do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half, I did nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a coupla times and you tell her everything?!” I try not to think about my own relationships both romantic and not that rarely ever made it past a couple of months before it ended, not only having to lie about being a hunter but a witch too. Dean stays silent, staring straight ahead, “Dean!” Sam yells.

“Yeah. Looks like,” he finally acknowledges. He continues to stare ahead, pressing his foot down harder on the gas pedal. Sam shakes his head, giving his brother his classic bitchface.

“Oh. He had it bad” I laugh leaning back in my seat, ignoring the sinking and stabbing feeling in my heart. I figured I’d have to keep doing so on this hunt.

The office was dark, the bright sunlight not able to stretch upon the large room not even with the help of glass doors. The place could really open a couple of blinds, let the light shine in.

An old white man with an interesting-looking tie, one of those Western ones with the jewel and black tether, talks to two people a man and a woman their backs towards us. And the way Dean pauses, staring at the woman it isn't hard to deduce she's Cassie. She and the older black gentlemen next to her seem to be having some sort of dispute with the old white guy.

Then suddenly both of the men walk away, clearly frustrated, leaving Cassie to stand there herself. She turns around swiftly, and almost like a perfectly curated romance movie she nearly hits Dean only inches separating the two. I didn't even realize he had moved forward in the time we've been standing here.

Just looking at her I could tell why Dean fell for her, she's beautiful more than that. She could be a model with her beautiful long dark curls framing her face, full lips colored red, and big brown eyes. She must have stepped out of a magazine, everything about her screamed perfect down to her perfectly shaped eyebrows and perfect nose. “Dean,” she says, her voice smooth despite the look of slight apprehension.

He nods and grins, “Hey Cassie.” And they just stare at each other. He's looking at her in a way I’ve never seen him look at anyone before even despite the tension that hung in the air, unspoken words from however long ago.

His eyes seem to glimmer, you’d have to be a fool not to see he still has feelings for her, that they never went away in the first place. And that it’s more than just any feelings, he loves her and that is a hard pill to swallow.

He clears his throat, breaking the trance they were both in, “This is my brother Sam. And my friend Y/N.” She smiles at each of us before her gaze reverts to Dean, not that I could blame her in the slightest.

“Sorry ‘bout your dad,” he says.

“Yeah. Me too,” she answers.

Her family home was beautiful and extraordinarily large, it was a bit disturbing. Though maybe that was because it reminded me of my home before moving to Kansas, or at least what I remember of it. We sat in the sitting room on vintage settees, another reminder of that home–my mother would quite like the look of this cozy room.

Cassie finally comes back adorning a tray of tea cups and a teapot along with the little bowl of sugar and a small pouring cup of milk, could she get any more perfect and wonderful? “My mothers in pretty bad shape. I’ve been staying with her. I wish she wouldn’t go off by herself. She’s been so nervous and frightened. She was worried about Dad,” she explains.

“Why?” Dean asks as she takes a seat across from us. He was watching her every move as if dedicating it to memory, I wonder if he’s thinking ‘She moves in the same manner she used to’ or maybe that it changed. Suddenly I was not so okay with sitting between the boys even though that's almost how we always sat when talking to someone on a hunt, as it made it harder for them to fight and made them slightly more comfortable with squishing into sofas with their large frames. But now, being in the middle I could easily watch how he looked at her, studied her.

She skillfully pours tea into each cup, “He was scared. He was seeing things.”

“Like what?” He asked.

“He swore he saw an awful-looking black truck following him,” she responds carefully.

“A truck, did he see a driver?” I ask, diligently accepting the beautiful teacup she handed me. I take a careful sip of the black tea, of course she would know and pick the perfect tea for guests. Does she have any flaws?

“He didn’t talk about a driver,” she answers, “Just the truck. He said it would appear and disappear. And, in the accident, Dad’s car was dented, like it had been slammed into by something big.”

Sam accepts his cup of tea, “Thanks. Now you’re sure this dent wasn’t there before?” And as predictable as Dean was he looked at his cup weirdly before depositing it back on the tray, that man was not a tea person he’d take a coffee or a beer any day. I think the only reason he drank the tea I gave him when he was sick was because he knew how desperate Sammy and I were.

“He sold cars. Always drove a new one. There wasn’t a scratch on that thing,” she explains, “It had rained hard that night. There was mud everywhere. There was a distinct set of muddy tracks leading from Dad’s car…leading right to the edge, where he went over.” She swallows harshly, bowing her head, “One set of tracks. His.”

Dean’s face softens, eyes filling with sympathy, “The first was a friend of your father's?” She nods, “Best friend. Clayton Soames. They owned the car dealership together. Same thing. Dent. No tracks. And the cops said exactly what they said about Dad. He ‘lost control of his car.’”

I force my brain to rid itself of any thoughts of Dean and Cassie's relationship. This was like any other hunt, something weird is going on and we are here to help, nothing more.

It was weird, cars don't just drive off the road like that and then have newly made dents that match another vehicle. “Is there any reason you can think of as to why your father and his partner might've been targets? Competition?” I ask. She shakes her head, radiating certainty, “No.”

“And you think this vanishing truck ran them off the road?” Sam points out.

“When you say it aloud like that…,” she sighs, “listen, I’m a little skeptical about this…ghost stuff…or whatever it is you guys are into.”

Dean huffs, “Skeptical. If I remember, I think you said I was nuts.”

“That was then,” she bites back. Then they fall back into that thing where they just stare at each other, “I just know that I can’t explain what happened up there. So I called you,” she adds, directing her words only to him. I clear my throat, weary of the bubble they seem to have put around themselves, “You were right in calling” I reasoned softly, “It is very strange and on the off chance it isn’t anything supernatural then it was certainly a cover-up.”

Her perfect eyebrows furrow but before she can respond the sound of the front door opening catches all of our attention, a middle-aged white woman enters through and I assume it's her mother. She shared her mother's eye shape and her nose, but the rest of her she must have gotten from her father.

As if we had gotten caught we all rise from the sofa. Cassie goes over to her mother, taking her arm, “Mom. Where have you been I was so…” her mother cuts her off looking at us, “I had no idea you'd invited friends over.”

“Mom, this Dean, a…friend of mine from…college. ‘His brother Sam and friend Y/N.”

“Well, I won’t interrupt you” her mother smiles nervously.

“Mrs Robinson,” Dean says suddenly, “We’re sorry for your loss. We’d like to talk to you for a minute if you don’t mind.” And as if offended she recoils, “I’m really not up for that right now.”

The morning sun is dimmer today, perfect for the scene we were walking upon. The man Cassie was standing with yesterday, Jimmy, was the newest victim. He died in the same way as the others sometime late last night. Cassie was again arguing with the old white man from yesterday. As we approached I could hear his condescending voice, “Close the man road. The only road in and out of town? Accidents do happen Cassie, and that’s what they are. Accidents.”

We stand beside her, Dean speaking up immediately, “Did the cops check for additional denting on Jimmy’s car, see if it was pushed?”

Without missing a beat and without looking away from Cassie the man asks, “Who’s this?”

“Dean and Sam Winchester, Y/N L/N. Family friends. This is Mayor Harold Todd” She replies smoothly. This man went from just any old white guy to a powerful old white guy, even worse. And he had two first names, you never trust someone with two first names. Reluctantly Mayor Old Guy answers Dean’s initial question, “There’s one set of tire tracks. One. ‘Doesn’t point to foul play.”

Cassie scuffs, “Mayor, the police, and town officials take their cues from you. If you’re indifferent about…”

He cuts her off, “Indifferent!”

“Would you close the road if the victims were white?” she counters.

Oh. Could she get any more iconic?!

“You suggesting I’m racist Cassie?” He spits, “I’m the last person you should talk to like that.”

“And why is that?” She counters, stepping closer to him.

“Why don’t you ask your mother” he answers before walking away. My jaw drops, what the hell is going on in this town?

I huff, blowing a piece of hair out of my face. I really didn’t want to get dressed, for as much as I’ve been trying to ignore the whole Dean and Cassie situation I was feeling horrible.

I sit on the soft motel bed in nothing but my underwear and a nice white button-down, haven given up on dressing. I feel stupid. Incredibly stupid.

Maybe Sam’s words had gotten to me, maybe I had gotten my hopes up without even realizing it.

He loves someone else, and he’s had for a while. I always thought when you love someone those feelings don’t ever truly go away, there's always a part of you with them. They wind up crossing your mind and you wonder where things went wrong. But I guess I never considered this would also apply to Dean, which is cruel to believe within itself. Which is funny too, all these years I’ve spent loving him…But Sam was right he didn’t date so I guess I assumed he never fell for anyone during his countless one-night stands.

I know death is cruel but maybe love is tied with it. Because I feel like someone took my heart and ran with it, leaving me with this void in my chest and an ache so intense that it throbs in its place. It was stupid to think I had a chance to begin with. I knew not to believe I had one in the first place, but somewhere along the line I had completely forgotten about any of that. So much for listening to my past self, if I had maybe I wouldn't be feeling so damn bad.

But I couldn't be mad. Cassie was wonderful in every possible way and you don't need to know her for long to realize that. They seemed perfect for each other really. She was feisty and had no issue putting someone in their place, which I quite admired, and I know Dean could use that every now and then. If she was a jerk I’m sure I’d have no issue disliking her, but she wasn’t! She was impossible to dislike, and it would be horrible of me to hate her just because she harbors feelings for someone that I love or the fact that he loves her back. That wasn't her fault, it was neither of their faults.

Loving someone has to be the hardest thing one could do.

I get up from the bed and put on my skirt. I couldn't sit here forever, the boys would come knocking and I wouldn't have a good excuse as to why I’m in a mood. Quickly I check myself in the mirror, at least I didn’t cry which means I don't gotta redo my makeup, even if it was minimal to begin with.

How do you stop loving someone? I could use that answer.

I knew I loved him for a long time, too long. But I suppose I didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten, how much it had flourished and I had never expected that to be possible. I love him.

I love him and it hurts so much.

How many times did I have the opportunity to tell him? It had to be in the hundreds. Maybe it was better that I didn’t, he loves someone else and I should be happy for them. I am happy for him. He deserves to be loved and be able to love. Yes, I am happy.

I approach the two older men having lunch, focusing on the wet ground and the wholesomeness that is them eating on a pier. “Hi, sorry. Are you Ron Stubbins?” I ask, taking the lead. I needed to throw myself into the work, I needed the distraction. The older man nods looking at us confused, his black cap bobbing with his head. “You were friends with Jimmy Anderson?” Dean follows up.

“Who are you?” Ron responds with, sitting up straighter. He was sizing us up, skeptical of us, which he had every right to be. “We’re Mr. Anderson’s insurance company. We’re just here to dot ‘I’s’ and cross ‘T’s’,” Dean explains, flashing his badge.

“And they needed to send three of you?” He counters. I giggle, tilting my head slightly, “Would you prefer me leaving?” I ask sweetly. And as predictable as men can be he drags his eyes across my body before shaking his head, “No. No. That won’t be necessary.” I ignore the dirty feeling that washes over me and sticks to my bones like a new layer of skin, it was necessary to do that because now he won’t bother questioning us anymore on that topic.

“We were just wondering, had the deceased mentioned any unusual recent experiences?” Sam questions, getting back on topic. Reluctantly Ron looks away from me to look at the man who questioned him, “What do you mean, unusual?”

“Well visions, hallucinations” He elaborates.

“We’re working with local psychologists to broaden our questioning and research,” I explain, trying to clear the confusion from his face, “It’s all very standard.”

“What company did you say you were with?” Ron counters. Maybe he was more on guard than I thought. “All National Mutual” Dean answers smoothly, “Tell me, did he ever mention seeing a truck? A big black truck?”

“What the hell ‘you talking about?” Ron exclaims, “‘You even speaking English?”

Wow, what a lovely guy.

“Son this truck, a big scary monster-looking thing?” Ron's friend suddenly says.

“Yeah actually, I think so” Dean answers. The man hums to himself in thought, please let this interaction be useful. “You’ve heard of something like that?” I ask the man. “I have,” he nods, not bothering to elaborate.

“You have. Where?” Sam pushes.

“Not where,” he finally answers, “When. Back in the ‘60s, there was a string of deaths. Black men. Story goes, they disappeared in a big, nasty, black truck.”

“They ever catch the guy?” I ask. He shrugs, “Never found him. Hell, not even sure they really looked. See there was a time, ‘this town wasn’t too friendly to all its citizens.”

“Thank you” Sam nods.

We walk away, heading back to the Impala. “Well, it seems like history is repeating itself,” I began, “From the lack of investigation and racism down to the–”

“Truck,” Dean says, finishing my sentence. “Keeps coming up doesn’t it?” Sam adds.

“You know, I was thinking. You heard of the Flying Dutchman?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, a ghost ship, infused with the Captian’s evil spirit. It was basically part of him” Sam answers, explaining the lore. Dean nods, “So what if we’re dealing with the same thing? You know, a phantom truck, an extension of some bastard’s ghost, re-enacting past crimes.”

“The victims have been black men” Sam continues the theory. I half-shrug, “I don't know. The town has to have more than a handful of black people, but it only seems to be going after specific people. It’s practically targeting those connected to Cassie and her family. I’m sure there’s some deeper link there.”

“That’s why I think it’s more than that,” Dean says.

“All right. Well, you work that angle, go talk to her,” Sam tells his brother specifically, clearly playing matchmaker. “Yeah, I will,” Dean agrees.

“Oh, and you might also wanna mention that other thing” Sam noted, a playful smile on his lips. Always the meddler. “What other thing?” Dean asks, either genuinely lost or faking it. “The serious, unfinished business?” Sam elaborates. I huff a laugh, “Yeah, seriously Dean it's so painfully obvious. Just talk to the girl.” It pained me to even suggest that, to motivate him in such a way but I want him to be happy, and if that means being with her then so be it.

Dean stops just as we reach the car, going obstinately silent. Sam huffs a laugh this time, “Dean, what is going on between you two?”

“All right, so maybe we were a little more involved than I said,” he finally admits. I give him a pointed look, “Yeah…that was obvious.”

He huffs, “A lot more. Maybe. And I told her our secret, about what we do. And I shouldn’t have.”

“Ah look man, everybody’s gotta open up to someone sometime,” Sam reasons, being a little too understanding compared to how we were only yesterday. “Yeah I don’t,” Dean argues, “It was stupid to get that close. I mean, look how it ended.”

I smile at him softly, hoping any sadness is concealed far behind my eyes, and I realize Sam is giving him the same look except he’s nearly beaming. “Would you both stop!” he shouts. But we don't because this is a side of Dean we’ve never seen before, and it is beautiful even if it's heartbreaking for me. “Someone blink or something!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up.

“You loved her,” I say softly, the gape in my chest deepening at the verbal declaration. Saying it aloud was so much worse. “Oh God,” he groans, turning to the Impala. “You still do!” I call after him.

“You were in love with her, but you dumped her,” Sam states, connecting the pieces. Dean goes silent, staring at the ground, then carefully glances at his brother before reverting his eyes. “Oh wow. She dumped you.”

I have to stop myself from taking in a sharp breath, there was a lot to this he wasn’t telling us. But why would she break up with him if she still has feelings?

“Get in the car” Dean demands, done being “emotional” and open, “Get in the car!”

Sam hands me my hot chocolate, but not even the sweet treat or the soft snow falling just outside can lift my mood. It makes me feel a little better but it does not fix my heart. Dean didn’t come back last night and I know it’s because he spent the night at Cassie’s. I’m happy they worked things out and hopefully had a wonderful night but again it does not fix my heart.

I held the cup tighter, welcoming the immense warmth it brought to my frozen hands as we stepped out of the small coffee shop. The air was crisp yet gentle as the light fluffy snowflakes descended onto us, the cold flakes collecting in my hair. A small smile graced my face, maybe it was making me feel better. I like the cold, preferred it even, I was cozy in my thick turtle neck and my favorite fleeced-lined jacket.

Sam and I walk in comfortable silence side by side, sipping from our cups and basking in the scenery of the unexpected snow. It was early May in Missouri, it really shouldn’t be snowing but I suppose if it could snow here a little in April then early May couldn't be that weird. Plus it was a light snow that likely wouldn't even stick. But the calming scenery is cut in half by an ambulance that speeds past us, sirens blaring. We share a questioning look but ultimately ignore it until two cop cars rush past us heading the same way. That we can’t ignore. With another shared look, we follow after the sirens.

I look out at the macabre scene, the yellow caution tape not having stopped me from investigating thanks to the use of a fake ID. The body had been bagged after countless photos were taken, but the blood of Mayor Todd still stains the streets. It was a gruesome scene, arguably worse than the others in this case his organs squished out like roadkill and, truthfully, that’s what he had become.

“L/N” Sam calls out from just a few feet behind me. I turned around swiftly, the snow whirling around me, Dean stood next to his brother. He came.

I walk over to the two boys, watching Dean’s clear expression of shock masked by annoyance, “‘You gonna ask me a bunch of questions too?” he asks. I look at him confused, “...no” I drag out slowly. His face seems to relax slightly, something unrecognizable passing in his eyes, “Good,” he nods.

“I already know you made up–made out” I add, his face drops, “Anyways, crime scene,” I point behind me.

“Every bone crushed. Internal organs turned to pudding,” Sam explains the case, catching his brother up, “The cops are all stumped, it’s like something ran him over.” The wind picks up again, swirling the snow in its own private storm, the cold will help with the case as it preserves the body longer. “Something like a truck?” Dean asks, gaining his footing in the case.

“Yeah, except of course there’s no tracks” I answer. He nods, rubbing a hand down his jaw and I have to force my eyes away from the movement, “What was the Mayor doing here anyway?”

“He owned the property. Bought it a few weeks ago” Sam says referring to the building site.

“But he’s white, doesn’t fit the pattern,” Dean points out. Sam nods, “Killings didn’t happen up on the road. That doesn’t fit either.”

I shove my hands into my pocket, taking a quick look back at the crime scene before turning back to the boys, “Then it seems like this case is one of revenge.”

I shuffle through the papers in front of me, glad that I was sent to do research at the town's main library rather than be at the newspaper office with the boys and Cassie. She was probably looking at him all sweetly and being a kind person, and I did not wish to see the loving way they looked at each other. And if avoiding that meant having my nose in dusty boxes of court records then that was okay.

I pull out my phone calling Sam directly instead of Dean, the phone rings a couple of times before he picks up, “Hi” I greet, “I got some info.”

The line goes quiet for a second before I hear his voice, “Alright you're on speaker.”

“Ok, so,” I start, balancing my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I look over the papers, “I have courthouse records here, and according to them Mr and Mrs Mayor bought an abandoned property. The previous owner was the Dorian family who owned it for, like, 150 years.”

“Dorian?” Dean repeats back. “Yes.”

His voice grows quieter but still in range enough for me to hear, “Didn’t you say the Dorian family used to own this paper?” he asks someone else in the room. “Along with everything else around here. Real pillars of the town,” Cassie answers. “Right, right” Dean responds followed by the clicking of keys.

“You got something there?” I ask, readjusting my phone.

“Think so” Sam mumbles, seemingly focused on whatever was happening over at the office.

“This Cyrus Dorian. He vanished in April of ‘63. The case was investigated but never solved. It was right around the time the string of murders was going on back then,” Dean informs, adding more information to what that man yesterday had told us.

“Well to add to that information, the Dorian place seemed to be in really bad shape when the Mayber bought it,” I add, “He bulldozed the place.”

“Mayor Todd knocked down the Dorian place?” Dean asks, presumably, Cassie. “It was a big deal” she answers, “One of the oldest houses left. He made the front page.” I huff a breath, everything connecting yet leaving so many questions at the same time. “You got a date, Y/N?” Dean calls back.

“Um,” I hum shuffling the papers around and reading over the words quickly, “‘3rd of last month.” The line goes quiet again the only sound ringing back being the sharp noise of fingers on a keyboard, “Mayor Todd bulldozed the Dorian family home on the 3rd,” Dean finally responds, “The first killing was the next day.”

Pouring the boiled water into the mug I take a quick look back, Dean kneels in front of the shaken-up Cassie rubbing her knee softly and looking at her with pure determination and adoration. I swallow roughly looking back at the mugs in front of me, nearly overspilling and burning myself.

This was not the time to grieve a love that never happened. Cassie called Dean afraid, having seen the black truck. We were here to help, I was making a soothing herbal tea for her and her mother to calm the nerves.

Finishing with the mugs I carefully carry them into the sitting room. Sam takes one from me, gently handing it to her mother. I hand the mug to Cassie, her shaky hands accepting and rattling the cup, Dean immediately moves to sit at her side but it does not stop his protectiveness if anything it amplifies it; he practically radiates it. “Maybe you should throw a couple of shots in here,” she says, half joking.

I huff a laugh, “Well while the effects of alcohol do have the capabilities of easing the central nervous system, when the effects wear off your body will be jolted back from its depressive state which would really only make you feel worse, more anxious as well as stressed.”

She gives me a half, almost awkward, smile before taking a sip from her mug. Did I say too much? Why didn’t someone stop me? Someone should’ve just cut me off, especially if I wasn’t helping.

“You didn’t see who was driving the truck,” Sam says suddenly, pulling the awkwardness out of the air. “It seemed to be no one. Everything was moving so fast. And then it was just gone,” she explains, “Why didn’t it kill us?”

“Whoever was controlling the truck wants you afraid first,” Dean answers. This would explain why at least one of the victims had seen it and truthfully thought they were going mad. “Mrs Robinson,” Sam began, “Cassie said that your husband saw the truck before he died.” Mrs Robinson doesn't answer, seemingly lost in her mind as she shakes. “Mom?” Cassie says carefully, worry laced in her voice.

The older Robinson shakes her head nervously, “Oh. Martin was under a lot of stress. You can’t be sure about what he was seeing.”

“Well after tonight I think we can be reasonably sure he was seeing a truck. What happened tonight, you and Cassie are marked. Ok?” Dean snaps, “Your daughter could die. So if you know something now would be a really good time to tell us about it.”

“Dean…” Cassie warns. But her mother's face contorts in emotion, something in her breaking, “Yes. Yes, he said he saw a truck.”

“Did he know who it belonged to?” Sam asks, taking a seat across from the woman. “He thought he did,” she answers cryptically. “Who was that?” Dean pushes. Her eyes get watery and she sinks into herself, “Cyrus. A man named Cyrus.”

My gaze flickers to the boys, we are all thinking the same thing, I look back at her, “By any chance was it Cyrus Dorian?” I ask carefully. Dean pulls out a newspaper from inside his coat, handing it to the woman. She doesn't shake her head or nod only replying with, “Cyrus Dorian died more than 40 years ago.”

“How do you know he died, Mrs Robinson?” Dean asks softly, “The papers said he went missing. How do you know he died?”

She hesitates, her mouth agape like a fish out of water or in reality that of a person who got caught, “We were all very young,” she says, “I dated Cyrus a while, I was also seeing Martin…in secret of course. Interracial couples didn’t go over too well back then. When I broke it off with Cyrus and when he found out about Martin, I don’t know, he, changed. His hatred. His hatred was frightening.”

“The murder,” Sam voices.

Her voice wobbles, “They were rumors. People of color disappearing into some kind of truck. Nothing ‘ever done,” she swallows shifting in her seat, “Martin and a…Martin and I, we were gonna be, uh, married in that little church near here, but last minute we decided to elope as we didn’t want the attention.” She pushes her short hair out of her face, stressed. “And what became of Cyrus?” I ask.

Endless tears fall down her cheeks, “The day we set for the wedding, was the day someone set fire to the church. There was a children’s choir practicing in there. They all died.” I suppress the gasp that wishes to leave my lips, the room seems to dim with the information. What was meant to be a beautiful day was soiled by the blood of innocents.

“Did the attacks stop after that?” Sam asks softly, careful of her fragile mindset.

A sob escapes from her chest, “No! There was one more. One night that truck came for Martin. Cyrus beat him terribly. But Martin, you see, Martin got loose. And he started hitting Cyrus and he just kept hitting him and hitting him.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops?” Dean pushes. She continues to cry, “This was forty years ago. He called on his friends, Clayton Soames and Jimmy Anderson, and they put Cyrus’ body into the truck and they rolled it into the swamp at the end of his land and all three of them kept that secret all of these years.”

“And now all three are gone,” Sam acknowledges. This all confirms the theory of a vengeful spirit. “And so is Mayor Todd,” Dean adds, “Now he said that you of all people would know he is not a racist. Why would he say that?”

“He was a good man,” Mrs Robinson answers, “He was a young deputy back then investigating Cyrus’ disappearance. Once he figured out what Martin and the others had done he…he did nothing, because he also knew what Cyrus had done.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cassie asks, her voice hard yet full of emotion. I couldn't imagine what was going on in her head, to find out something like this–“I thought I was protecting them. And now there’s no one left to protect,” her mother reasons.

“Yes, there is” Dean counters, fiercely. His green eyes harden with determination as he looks at Cassie.

I sit on the cold hood of the Impala, gently kicking my legs back and forth watching Dean pace in front of me. Sam leans against the car next to me, his arms crossed as he too watches his brother, “Ah, my life was so simple. Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms…”

I look at him with an amused smile, “I have no idea what that last part is but it sounds fun!” That stops Dean in his tracks for just a half of a second, he points at us, “No it doesn’t. I saved him from a boring existence.”

“Yeah, occasionally I miss boring” Sam reasons. I nod enthusiastically, “Honestly, we have not had a normal day in like months. Kinda miss it.”

Dean brushes our light complaining off, “So this killer truck–”

“I miss conversations that didn’t start with ‘this killer truck’” Sam quips with a dramatic sigh. I failed to hold back my laughter, Dean laughs lightly and for a brief moment, things feel how they used to, “Well this Cyrus guy. Evil on a level that infected even his truck. When he died, the swamp became his tomb, and his spirit was dormant for 40 years.”

“So what woke it up?” Sam asks.

“The construction on his house. Or the destruction,” Dean points out.

“Right. Demolition or remodeling can awaken spirits, make them restless” Sam recalls. His brother hums a ‘yes’, nodding.

“Like that theater in Illinois, ya know?” Sam references, and I in fact had no idea what he was talking about. “And the guy that tore down the family homestead, Harold Todd, is the same guy that kept Cyrus’ murder quiet and unsolved,” Dean adds, bringing it back to the case at hand.

“So now his spirit is awakened and out for blood,” Sam acknowledges.

“Yeah, I guess. Who knows what ghosts are thinking anyway” Dean shrugs.

“Wait, does this mean we have to go swimming in that swamp?” I ask. I mean if we had to salt and burn the bones then we would need said bones which are in a swamp, how nice. Dean smiles at me, I know that look. “No” I warn, pointing at him like an animal that did something wrong. “You said it” he rationalizes.

“Noooo” I whine a pout on my lips, “Do I have to do it alone?”

His wicked smile deepens, “‘Course not, Sammy’s gonna be with you.”

Sam’s shoulders drop, “Man,” he sighs.

Suddenly a familiar figure approaches, her hands tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. Dean stands up straighter, “Hey.” She smiles sadly, “Hey. She’s asleep. Now what?”

“Well, you should stay put, look after her…and we’ll be back. Don’t leave the house,” Dean explains, looking at her in that way that hurts my heart. But she smiles, any worry melting off her face, “Don’t go getting all authoritative on me. I hate it.”

Dean glances back at us, Sam looks down grinning acting as if neither of us could hear the conversation. He turns back to Cassie mumbling something I can't quite make out but whatever it was must have been good because he slowly leans in to kiss her. I drop my head and gaze at the very interesting ground, trying my best to ignore the sound of their intensifying making out. A pang of jealousy, longing, and pain shoots through my chest. If the ground wanted to just open up and consume me now I wouldn’t complain, I’d even help it and just throw myself in it wouldn’t have to work very hard. Sam clears his throat, I look up but Dean just holds out a finger to wait as he brings Cassie even closer.

I drop my eyes again.

Loving someone never hurt so bad. Loving him never hurt so bad.

Was it wrong to love him? Was this always going to be my fate? To see him evermore with other girls, loving them more than he could ever love me.

“You two comin’ or what?” Dean asks. I look up once more and this time his lips aren’t on Cassie.

I tug on the chain again, making sure it's secure, my hands getting wet in the process. I wipe my icky hands off on my jeans as I back away, “Alright he’s good,” I call out to Sam who stands feet away from me, closer to the butt of the pickup Dean was driving. He gives a thumbs up to his brother who begins to move the car forward, the pickup moving slowly in the weight of the heavy truck and water pressure.

We had already gotten it up a lot, but it had gotten stuck on the side of the swamp so we had to readjust its hold to get it the rest of the way up.

The years in the water had diminished it. The old black truck was now more like a rust bucket, remains of the swamp water spilling out from the seams. “All right. A little more…little more,” Sam leads, “All right, stop.”

The engine shuts off and Dean heads to the Impala, he pulls it open rummaging through the various weapons. “Now I know what she sees in you” Sam declares with a snap of his finger, meaning he finally understood what that look in her eyes meant. “What?” Dean asks.

“Come on man, you can admit it. You’re still in love with her” Sam clarifies. I nod even though the implications hurt, “Plus it’s not like no one else knows. So the only person you’re hiding from is yourself.”

Dean looks up from the trunk, “Uhh, can we focus please.”

I purse my lips, “Yeah…focusing has never really been our strong suit…” A container of salt is pressed into my chest, “Hold that” Dean says swiftly.

His expression hardens, all jokes put to rest as he dishes out items, “Gas” he says first, handing the large container to his brother, “Flashlights,” he lists out next filling my empty hand with one.

“Ok, let’s get this done,” he quips, closing the trunk.

We trudge back over to the rusty truck, our flashlights leading our way across the grass. Dean places his hand on the handle and I must wonder how he isn’t grossed out by just the feeling of the flaked paint and rotting metal. He glances at us in a silent ‘you ready?’ We give a nod and he opens the door.

A decaying wet corpse falls out the door and onto the soft grass, a small gush of water following its lead. I leap back like a scared cat, clasping a hand to my mouth and nose the decomposition of the body as well as its marinating in swamp water left a putrid smell. One perhaps worse than anything I've ever smelt before which was saying something considering what I’ve hunted.

“All right let’s get to it,” Dean says. Sam pours the gasoline all over the body, careful not to get it close to us and I jump in with the salt, opening the little latchet to sprinkle the small white crystals over the open-mouthed corpse. The satisfying scratch and flick of a match sounds softly beside me in the quiet night followed by the drop of the matchstick on the body. In mere seconds the remains go up in flames, the warm glow of the fire reflecting on the truck just beside it. I hoped no one would come looking over here with the whirl of smoke twirling above us, the heat powerful enough for me to take another step back.

“Think that’ll do it?” Sam voices, staring down at the burning corpse. But his question is followed by the revving of an engine and two blinding lights pointed at us. Without looking in the direction I knew it was the ghost truck. “I guess not,” Dean quips.

“So burning the body had no effect on that thing?” the younger Winchester asks. “Sure it did. Now it’s really pissed,” Dean responds. I glare at him, “I don't know if this is the time for cool jokes.”

“But Cyrus’ ghost is gone, right Dean?” Sam asks, a hint of panic in his voice as the tuck stares us down. But his brother doesn't answer right away, instead, he starts to walk away, “Apparently not the part that’s fused with the truck.”

I go on my tip toes trying to peak into the truck, maybe we missed something like a severed piece of him that didn’t spill out but before I can vocalize this Sam is calling out to his brother, “Where are you going?” I turn around, catching up to the boys, “Goin’ for a little ride,” Dean answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What?!” Sam and I exclaim in unison, “That’s a horrible idea!” I add. But he ignores our concern, “Gonna lead that thing away. That busted piece of crap, you gotta burn it.”

“How the hell are we supposed to burn a truck, Dean?” Sam asks, voice raising in volume. But being the determined man he is he shrugs, “I don’t know. Figure something out.” He rounds the car, opening the driver's door, “At least let one of us come with you, this is horribly dangerous,” I try to reason.

His eyes move up and down my face, before he settles on my eyes once more, “‘Exactly why you’re not comin’ with.” Before I can come up with a retort on how stubborn he is he settles himself into the car, closing the door behind him. I look to Sam for any support on this but he just stares at the car muttering, “Figure some–something–”

I rack my brain for ideas because Dean wasn’t going to listen and would rather be all hot and stubborn than be reasonable, “An explosion?” I suggest. Sam shakes his head, “No, that wouldn’t work. Parts would go everywhere and everything has to burn.”

I huff, frustrated, “I hate when you’re right.”

Dean reverses the Impala and takes off, the engine revering. As predictable as possible the ghost truck roars after him. I try to rack my brain for more ideas, even if we could suddenly light a truck on fire it would take too long for it to burn completely, “Sam, please tell me you got some idea rolling around in there.” He doesn't answer, lost in concentration with his bottom lip between his teeth.

My phone suddenly rings in my pocket, I pull it out swiftly seeing Dean’s name glowing. I flip it open bringing it to my ear, “You okay?” I say immediately. “Uh…yeah,” He says but I remain not convinced, “what are we doing?”

I look at Sam, panicking slightly, “Um, Sam what are we doing?”

He pulls out his phone, “You gotta give me a minute.” He presses his phone to his ear, “He says to give him a minute, I think he’s callin’ someone.”

“I don’t have a minute!” He half yells. “Dude, I don't know!” I panic, “Just…just don’t die, okay?”

“Trying here sweetheart.” I look back at Sam who has stepped away, I give him a hand motion of ‘please hurry up.’ He nods, coming closer to feed me info, “Ask him where he is.” I pull my phone away from my ear putting him on speaker instead, “Okay, Dean where the hell are you?”

“In the middle of nowhere with a killer truck on my ass!” he exclaims, “It’s like it knows I put the torch to Cyrus.”

“Listen to me, this is important” Sam orders, calmly, “I have to know exactly where you are.” Seemingly taking his advice he goes quiet for a beat, “Decatur Road, about two miles off the highway.”

“Ok. Headed East?” Sam follows up.

“Yes!”

A rattle and a bang followed by skitting noise sounds from the phone followed by cursing, “You son of a bitch!”

“Sam!” I yell, begging him to hurry up. “Ok, uhhh, turn right! Up ahead, turn right.” Again the line falls silent, “You make the turn?” Sam questions softly. My heart beats faster with each silent moment that passes. “Yeah, I made the turn!” Dean yells, “You need to move this thing along a little faster.”

“All right, you see a road up ahead?” Sam asks.

“No!... Wait. No, yes, I see it.”

“Ok turn left.”

“Wha..?” Dean half says before he goes quiet again the only sound coming from the line being more screeching and shuffled movement. “All right, now what? He finally responds.

“You need to go seven-tenths of a mile and then stop,” Sam explains. I looked at him strangely, noticing he wasn’t on the phone anymore, but what the hell was he talking about? “Stop?” Dean voices.

“Exactly seven-tenths Dean” Sam repeats.

“God, I hope you know what you’re talking about,” I tell the man beside me. “Me too” he mumbles over the sound of his brother repeating the words ‘seven-tenths.’ I look at him my mouth agape, “You wha–”

“Dean, you still there?” He cuts me off, focusing on his brother again. “Yeah,” Dean responds.

“What’s happening over there?” I ask, not knowing was killing me. “It’s just staring at me,” he answers carefully, “what do I do?”

“Just what you’re doing, bringing it to you,” Sam replies.

“Wha–” Dean began before cutting himself off, the line going quiet for the umpteenth time, “Come on. Come on,” he mumbled quietly but just loud enough for the phone to pick it up. My heart thumps in my chest, anticipation and fear running through my veins as well as something else from those two stupid words–something had to be wrong with me to find that hot now of all times.

The line is silent, for one beat, then another, then another…I grip my phone tighter, “Dean? Dean, are you there? ‘You okay?”

“Where’d it go?” he responds with a mix of shock and confusion. “Dean, you’re where the church was,” Sam explains. “What church!” he freaks.

“The place Cyrus burned down. Murdered all those kids,” Sam clarifies.

“There’s not a whole lot left,” Dean responds.

“Church ground is hallowed ground, whether the church is still there or not. Evil spirits cross over hallowed ground, and sometimes they’re destroyed, so I figured, maybe, that would get rid of it,” Sam explains. I hit his arm, “That was a hunch?!”

Dean adds in with the lecturing, “Maybe? Maybe!! What if you were wrong?!”

“Huh,” Sam hums, “Honestly, that thought hadn’t occurred to me.”

I glare at him sharply, hitting his arm again as I say, “You’re too sassy for your own good.” He laughs, a boyish grin on his face.

I wait in the back, Sam in the driver seat for Dean to say his goodbyes. I liked the back seat, more now than ever because being in the front would mean being able to see out the side mirror and watch Dean kiss the woman he loves and say a goodbye I was sure he didn’t want.

Life was being really unfair and uncool.

I bury my nose in my new book, it would be better to just escape into this world than have to deal with my feelings here in the real world. My feelings in the real world were not fun, they were depressing and hurt…a lot. But no amount of ink on paper formed into beautifully crafted words could fill the gaping hole in my heart, still, I tried as there was nothing else to do.

What is worse is knowing there will never be a chance for me to be loved by him, at least not in the way I do, because there will always be a place in his heart for her. He’ll think of her all the time, dream about her, and perhaps see her in the breeze. His heart belongs to her, and possibly always has.

I needed to accept that. The sooner I did the quicker the pain would go away. I couldn't go on believing I had a chance I needed to huff the flame out now.

No more hope. No more love. We’re friends, always have been, and always will be. That will have to be enough. I couldn’t love him anymore, not if it meant feeling this much pain. I wouldn’t accept his touches anymore for they gave me more hope than I’d like to admit.

No. I was wrong.

Worse of all is knowing that I can’t just stop loving him. Let it be the Gods' fault or the stars or whatever it is I’m meant to believe in but my heart has long been his and always will be. I could never love someone the way I love him, I wasn’t capable of that. Let it be that our love was written in the star's constellations that it was undecided by me or him for my love had to transcend the binds of that nonsense.

I loved him and he did not love me and maybe it was that which I had to accept because to stop loving him would mean to stop my heart from beating. Though even then I suspect not even the afterlife could keep me from my eternal love. And maybe that was pathetic or stupid, especially since he did not care for me in such a way, but it was the truth and no one has ever claimed truth to be a beautiful thing.

I’m brought back to reality with a bump. When did we leave and start driving? I look out the window, we had already made it to the highway…I look at the boys, but both seem fine. Ok then.

“I like her,” Sam says, and suddenly I wish to be lost back in the state I was in moments ago. I would love not to hear or be a part of this conversation. “Yeah,” Dean replies, seemingly just to get his brother to stop.

“You meet someone like her, doesn’t it make you wonder if it’s worth it? Putting everything else on hold, doing what we do?” Sam asks innocently perhaps trying to get him to understand what he had felt with his girlfriend. But something flickers in his face and suddenly he’s making eye contact with me in the rearview mirror, his eyes written in apology as if it just hit him now what all of this was doing to me. It was that puppy dog look.

I smile sadly at him, giving him a curt nod in a silent ‘it’s okay.’ His gaze flickers back to the road.

Dean leans forward pulling sunglasses from the glove box, he puts them on carefully ignoring his brothers' initial question, “Why don’t you wake me up when it’s my turn to drive?” He slouches down in his seat with a sigh. I shake my head, roll my eyes, and go back to my book.

We were leaving Missouri and all would be well, or as well as they could be.

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