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redbird-tf · 2 months ago

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Wild dog

dean x little sister

synopsis; A vampire hunt goes horribly wrong, leaving you injured in more ways the one, by the person you'd least expect.

inspired by

Word count; 2.6k (officially my longest story, please dont let it flop)

Warning: hurt/comfort, injury, john, violence, language

No no no, this couldnt be happening. You all knew taking on a vampire nest was a dangerous mission, but this mistake should have never happened. Now, here you lay on the cold, hay-covered floor of an old barn. Pain pulses through your body, your mind teetering on the edge of consciousness, and Dean looming over you.

The barn was crawling with those nasty blood-sucking monsters—20, maybe more. You three had been tracking them for weeks and prepared well. Hiding in the bushes, you waited until the nest was deep in slumber before making your move. You had to move quietly. Killing as many in their sleep as possible until one awoke. Its shrill scream shattered the silence, jolting the rest of the nest awake. "Split!" Dean's voice rang out, and in an instant, you all scattered.

Dean skidded to a stop as he faced a dead end. His grip tightened around the machete, turning to face the vamps closing in. “come get it you sick son of a bitch” he growled. He swung in every direction, blood soaking his clothes. When Dean got like this he turned into a killing machine. No thoughts just, swing-hit-kill, swing-hit-kill. A vamp hurled down at him from the ceiling, yet without flinching Dean grabbed it by the throat slamming it against the wall behind him and slicing its head clean off. Only when the head rolled past his feet did he take a breath and allow his shoulder to slump.

The sound of fast footsteps made him whirl around, swinging his machete wildly, his fist connecting with the creature's face, sending it crashing to the ground. “Dean stop!” Sams horrified voice rang pulling Dean from his soilder like state. Deans eyes widened in shock and the machete slipped from his hand. “Oh my god” his voice broke. It was you. You who was running up on him. You who’s side he sliced into. It was you who lay in front of him now.

Dean collapsed to his knees, and his hands came up to cradle your face “Sweetheart, sweetheart can you hear me” he begged with desperation. You let out a painful groan, and Dean let out a heavy sigh of relief. Sam lifted your shirt, inspecting the cut that was pouring blood. His concerned gaze met Dean, “What?” Dean demanded, panic rising in his chest. “We can’t stitch this dean, we need to take her to the hospital now” Sam replied with quick urgency. He pushed Dean aside, scooping you into his arms. You let out another agonizing moan. “Sorry bug” Sam whispered. “And say what?” Dean frantically snapped while darting toward the car. “I don't know Dean, let's worry about that when our sisters insides aren’t visible!” Sam shouted in frustration.

————-

When they reached the hospital, Dean shouted for help, and within seconds doctors surrounded them, lifting your limp body from Sam's arms and onto a bed. Deans eyes never left you as you were wheeled away, only breaking when pushed past white doors. It was then the adrenaline wore off and guilt flooded his body. He stood frozen, Sam’s voice was mumbled trying to convince the nurse it had been a bear or something.

“Sir, sir, SIR” Dean's trance was broken by the nurse's voice. “Does your hand feel alright?” She asked kindly. Dean furrowed his brows in confusion, then looked down at his fist. His knuckles were bruised and the image of his fist connecting with your face made his lip quiver.

Dean and Sam sat in the silence of the waiting room. Dean's head hung low, his thumb rubbing over his bandaged hand. Sams head jerked up at the sound of heavy footsteps, “what the hell” he muttered. Deans eyes widened at the sight of John. They both quickly stood from their seat “Dad what are you-“Sam was cut off. “What the hell happened?” John asked sternly, gazing between the brothers. There was a tense pause before Dean spoke up “It was me… she ran up from behind me. i should have been more careful…” Dean spoke quietly, half to keep the nurses from hearing and half because he couldn’t raise his voice without the risk of breaking down. John sighed heavily “How many goddamn times have i told her not to do that-“John started “It's not her fault” Dean quickly rebutted. John opened his mouth but fell silent at the sight of a nurse approaching. “How is she?” John asked, his body tensed, bracing for the worst. “Shell be alright” the boys shoulders dropped. “Shell have to take it easy for a few months to prevent tearing stitches….” The nurse paused, hesitating to continue “Her injury was very severe, it's a miracle she's still alive” The room fell silent again. “Can we see her?” Sam asked in an urgent tone.

The three of them hurried to your room. Sam and John rushed to your bedside, except for Dean who stood frozen in the doorway, watching you slowly gain consciousness.” what happened?” You asked groggily. Sam spoke softly to you but the Anastasia still weighed heavy, making it hard to understand his words. A shiver ran through your body and your head cocked to the side catching a glimpse of Dean. Dean jumped out of sight, pressing his back against the wall. He swallowed sharply, his heart hammering in his chest. “De…” he heard you call. “Dean” again, and again. A moment later John stepped out, “she's cold. She wants a jacket” he stated firmly. Without a word, Dean shrugged off his jacket and pushed it into John's hand. “Go home. We’ll talk later” he ordered. “Yes sir,” Dean said lowly, his hand dragged down his face, then he turned his heel.

—————-

“What do you remember?” Sam asked, sitting at the edge of your bed. You thought for a moment, your mind capturing bits and pieces. A look of shock came over your face. “I was running to Dean and then…” Your breath hitched and your hand clutched your side “he didn't mean to” you whispered with turned-up brows. Sams brows furrowed in contrast “Of course he didn’t” he reassured you, placing his hand over yours. “Here you go kid” John stepped forward, passing Dean's jacket to you. “Where's Dean?” You asked. “Let's get going before the cops get here” John continued ignoring your question. “He didn't mean to Dad! It's my fault” you blurted out. Johns's gaze sharpened “you were reckless. and he acted like a goddamn wild dog. This is on both of you, i hope you've learned something. Now come on” he snapped coldly, turning his back.

——

The drive back to the motel in John's truck was silent with unbearable tension. When John pulled into the lot you noticed Dean's impala was nowhere in sight. “I'll check into another room. You two go to bed,” John said gruffly, pointing between you and Sam before walking off. Sam carried the bags into the room as you limped in behind him. “Where Dean?” You asked, turning to Sam with a confused look. “He’s probably just grabbing a drink” he explained, while unpacking his bag. “Can we call him, just to make sure” you nervously fidgeted with your fingers, “let's just give him some space right now,” Sam spoke quietly, giving you sympathetic eyes.

You had been tossing and turning for hours. Unable to sleep thanks to the pain meds wearing off. You stared at the ceiling until the glow of headlights flickered into the room. You listened closely to the squeak of brakes, followed by the jingles of keys. You quickly closed your eyes pretending to sleep. Footsteps crept their way into the room, then faded back out. You peeked around the room, seeing nothing changed. Slowly you sat up, cradling your side as you pushed yourself from the bed. Grabbing Dean's jacket from the nightstand, you tiptoed to the door making sure not to wake Sammy while you slipped out.

The wind bit at your cheeks. You quickly draped the jacket over your shoulders, pulling it tight. The Impala was parked in front of you, but no still dean in sight. Your eyes scanned the lot. It wasn't until you squinted your eyes that you spotted a figure in the distance, sitting on a bench, beneath a large oak tree. After a few minutes of limping, and grunting, you finally reached the bench. Dean swung around at the sound. “I got your jacket…” you said awkwardly. “Keep it,” he muttered after giving you a once over and taking a sip of his drink. You slowly took a seat next to him. The rustle of the tree blowing in the wind surrounding you two. “I shouldn’t have run up on you-“ you tried to reason “It's not your fault” Dean cut you off, his voice firm, eyes locked on the ground. “You've told me over and over again not to “ “so i should have known. I shouldn’t have looked before…” his voice strained.

Another silence settled. “I don't blame you Dean” you stated softly. “Well, i do.” He replied sharply, taking another swing of his drink. You watched him for a moment before shifting closer, resting your head on his shoulder. You could feel him relax beneath your touch. “You know when we were younger, I'd come home from school and Dad would be gone, but you'd be there.” You kept your voice steady. “Then Sam left, and i was sure you would to…but you never did. You've always been there for me Dean” you spoke softly. You saw his grip tighten around the bottle. “You know what hurt most of all” your voice barely a whisper. “when i called for you from the bed…and you didn't come” Your voice wavered before you could stop it and you bit down on your lip. Deans body stiffened. For the first time that night, he looked you in the eyes. His green eyes were a storm of emotions. “I'm sorry, kid” his voice painfully sincere. He lifted his hand to cradle the side of your face, his thumb smoothing over the bruise beneath your eye. “Dean i know you won't forgive yourself, but can you make me a promise” Your voice shook terribly, trying to keep your tears at bay. Dean nodded immediately. “promise you'll always come when i call you” you pleaded. Dean's face cringed realizing the pain he caused you, some worse than the physical. “I promise, baby” His voice was firm, unwavering. A gust of wind cut through the air causing you both to shiver violently. “We should go in now” Dean suggested to which you quickly nodded, earning a soft chuckle from him.

As You both stood up, a sharp pain radiated down your side, stopping you in your tracks. Dean turned to you in an instant, hearing you wince. “what's wrong?” He asked concerned. “My side” you breathed out, clutching at your ribs while bent over. Dean crouched down in front of you “How about i give you a ride” Dean recommended. You couldn’t help but smile as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, allowing him to slowly lift you off the ground. His warmth engulfed you. Your eyes grew heavy, sleep pulling you in as you rested against him. until his voice pulled you back. “You know I'll always protect you too. Even if that means from me sometimes” he said quietly, but his voice laced with a sense of seriousness. You pressed your face into his shoulder, letting yourself relax again before softly murmuring.

“Dean Winchester, my own wild dog”

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smoky-lucine · 3 months ago

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Close Call

Little sister!Reader

After a close call during a hunt, The Winchester brothers panic as Castiel heals you.

Injuries, angst

My second fic :) I'm still trying to get the hang of writing but hopefully you all enjoy :)

You and the boys have been working on a case dealing with werewolves. You managed to catch one and kill it, and he confessed there is a whole pack in town and now you need to find the rest of them. You and Sam stayed in the motel and studied up on werewolves while Dean and Cas went out to the recent attacks around the town.

You didn’t get a lot of sleep the last few nights, as the werewolf attacks were happening faster and faster, and the four of you have been out every night on watch for any leads. Sam nudges your shoulder, and your chin slips off your hand and you jolt awake.

“Everything alright?” Sam asks while he shuts the book you fell asleep reading and sits down next to you.

“I’m okay, just tired from being out so late last night.” You say, rubbing your eyes.

Dean calls Sam and he gives you a gentle smile before he answers the phone and puts the call on speaker.

“Hey Dean, did you find anything?”

“Yeah. One of the Officers was a werewolf. He told us where they’re all staying before we took him out. We’re gonna hit it tonight alright?” Dean explains and you hear Castiel in the background ordering food for the three of you.

“Sounds good to me. Did he say how many of them are staying there?” You reply

“Nope. By the looks of how many attacks there's been, I don’t think it would be more than 7 or 8.” Dean says confidently.

Sam keeps talking about the case with Dean and you start getting silver bullets and knives ready for the hunt.

Later that night the four of you are on the way to the werewolves hiding house in the Impala. Sam and Dean are having their own conversation in the front while you and Castiel talk in the back.

“Have you ever hunted werewolves before?” You ask Cas.

“A few times yes. Angels don’t usually deal with them. Have you?”

“Occasionally yeah. I haven’t seen them in a while though, not since we still hunted with dad.” You say looking away. You didn’t like talking about your dad anymore, nobody really did. “I haven’t practiced my shooting in a bit too.”

“I’m sure we got it kid.” Dean says to you looking in the rear view mirror. “It’s gonna be a small pack. It’s gonna be in and out.”

You give him a smile. You turn to yawn and look out the window for the rest of the ride.

The four of you get ready and watch the house waiting for Dean to decide when to go in.

“Alright. Sam and Cas you two go in the side door, Y/N and I will go through the front.”

You look at Dean surprised. He normally chooses Sam when splitting up and it would make sense here too.

“Are you sure Dean?” You ask him nervously. “Yes, I’m sure. Do you not want to go in? What’s wrong?” Sam looks at you knowing you're tired, but he knows you don't want to tell the truth to Dean.

“No, it’s okay.” You say quietly, walking away a bit and focusing back on the house. Everybody does one last look at each other before splitting up and breaking into the house.

Dean kicks the door down and you both run in aiming separate ways. You hear Dean shoot a werewolf down and he turns to check on you in the now empty room. You can hear the other wolves in the house warning the others and running to defend against the four of you. You run up to the doorway, calling it clear and Dean runs into the kitchen with you following.

Making your way through the house, you and Dean each take down a few werewolves, and eventually meet up with Sam and Cas. The upstairs is still loud with werewolves running and escaping. You all say how many you took down and quickly realize there are at least triple the number of werewolves than Dean previously thought.

“But that doesn’t make sense. How can there be so many??” He says reloading his gun and looking around the room.

You responded “The attacks were happening faster and faster. I guess they don’t want to be careful anymore.” You focus on reloading your gun when you hear a growl.

You turn and see a werewolf sprinting at you and tackles you, losing all air in your lungs and dropping your gun. It claws at your stomach, leaving a huge gash. You quickly start seeing stars and your vision starts clouding, black slowly starting to take over. Coughing and screaming out you hear multiple gunshots and the werewolf dying.

Sam and Dean run up to you, eyes shocked at your injury.

“She’s really hurt.” Sam says, tearing up trying to get your eyes to focus.

“Sammy we gotta get her out of here.” Dean says loudly and begins to pick you up, flinching when he hears you cry out in pain. “There’s too many wolves here we need to leave.”

Dean runs as quickly as possible to Baby, putting you in the backseat. He throws the keys to Sam and yells "Drive!!” Castiel gets in the passenger seat and Sam runs to the driver’s seat and quickly starts the car, driving away from the house.

Dean holds you in the backseat trying to keep himself composed as he talks to you. “It’s okay Y/N. It’s gonna be okay alright? I’m so sorry I should’ve paid more attention. Look at me Y/N, open your eyes.” He begins to panic and yells at Sam to drive faster.

“We need to get far enough away; Cas needs to heal her.” Sam says speeding down the road.

You slip in and out of consciousness and wake up to Dean crying over you, and Sam and Cas yelling in worry. The three boys can’t stand hearing you scream in pain. You pass out and when the car is suddenly silent, Sam pulls over quickly as he and Castiel rush out of the car to reach you in the back seat.

“Cas, heal her.” Dean says solely focused on holding you still. Sam holds your hand as Castiel puts his hand on your stomach. His hand emits a bright white glow and Sam and Dean look away.

You wake up in the motel room. You look around at the quiet room and see Castiel in the corner staring at you.

“You're awake.” He says walking up to you. “I healed you. You’ve been asleep for a couple days, Sam finally got Dean to leave and eat.” You lift your shirt and there isn't a single scratch on your abdomen.

Castiel helps you sit up and hands you a bottle of water. “Your physical injuries are healed, but your body is tired. I could tell you haven’t slept in a few days.”

You drink the water and hand it back to Castiel. “Yeah, those night watches have been pretty hard. I appreciate you healing me and staying with me.” You give him a small smile and he gives you one in return and lets you rest longer.

Sam and Dean come home and seeing you sitting up in bed they run up to you. Dean hugs you tightly and when you yelp in surprise he lets go, scared you were somehow still injured. “Kid, I was so scared. I thought we lost you.” he says kneeling beside the bed, looking at you.

Sam gives you a big hug before climbing into the other side of the bed and letting you lean into his side. “It was really scary Y/N. I’m so relieved we got you healed in time.”

“I’m really sorry guys.” You say tearing up. “I haven’t slept in days, and I really wanted to help fight them, but I know I should’ve stayed back.”

Dean grabs your hand, “Y/N this isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have put that pressure on you, and I should’ve stuck to the plan. Please don’t blame yourself.”

You all sit there quietly talking to each other until you slowly fall asleep and get more rest.

#supernatural #fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x little sister #sam winchester #sam winchester x sister!reader #castiel #winchester!sister #winchester!reader #spn #writeblr

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winniewritesstories · 5 months ago

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Taking After Them | Winchester!Reader

Some headcanons on what it would be like if you were just like your big brothers!!

Taking after Dean:

Having the same taste in music, rocking out in Baby to Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Bob Seger, etc.

Driving Sam crazy because there's basically two of Dean

On movie nights, you and Dean basically act out the scenes for Rocky, every Clint Eastwood film, Die Hard, so on, there's really no need to even play the movie (Sam is dying inside)

Arguing over the last slice of pie

Stealing his clothes, especially band t shirts

Always begging Dean to let you drive Baby

Loving slasher films & Halloween, always planning costumes with him (but rarely getting to actually dress up as hunting gets in the way)

Making pop culture references with Dean

Being obsessed with bacon

Calling each other Batman & Robin

Being pretty flirty as you get older, Dean giving you pick up lines & tips

Him teaching you to fight & defend yourself, being proud of how strong you are but also scared for you

Taking after Sam:

Always down for a library trip with Sam

Dean rolling his eyes at his "nerdy little siblings"

Arguing over the best fantasy books and films

Swapping & sharing books, talking about how you liked the book or what you didn't like

Eating your fair share of salads BUT you love pie almost as much as Dean does

Going through a break up and Sam playing Celine Dion at full volume while you cry

Talking about college when the time comes, Sam helping you with your admissions essays

Him helping you study by quizzing you, marking practice tests, etc.

Dean always complaining about how long you both take to wash your hair

Dragging Dean around museums, you & Sam having a great time & Dean losing his mind (he likes the gift shop though)

Sam teaching you Latin & lore, you helping him organise the Bunker's files & archives

Going for runs with him but complaining like 90% of the time

BUT overall I think you'd be a little bit like both of them while still being your own person. Growing up with little influence other than those two, it would impossible for you not to be like them.

graphics from @saradika-graphics <3

#winniewrites #supernatural #dean winchester x little sister #sam winchester x little sister #winchesters x sister #spn fic #spn #spn sister imagine #spn sister #sam winchester x sister reader #dean winchester x sister reader #dean winchester #sister winchester #sam winchester #winchester reader #spn sister fic #younger winchester sibling

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winchesterdefender · 6 months ago

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And Then There Were Three | Winchester Sister I

Summary - A baby shows up on the Winchester's doorstep, and their entire lives change.

Pairings/characters - John Winchester, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Meg Winchester (OFC), Sam & Dean Winchester x little sister, John Winchester x daughter

Warnings - very mild cursing, John Winchester

Language - English (British)

Word Count - 3,096

Notes - This is the first instalment of the Winchester Sister series featuring my OFC Meg Winchester! Please be kind <3

Credits - dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

UPDATE - I have moved my writing to @winniewritesstories to make my writing easier to find than on this mess of a blog! I won't be taking this down but all future writing (for Meg and reader inserts) will be there!

Dean Winchester was strong. He was brave, and fierce. He fought monsters - has done his whole life, as long as he can remember. He liked to think he was unbreakable, invincible. The hits kept coming, and he kept taking them. Fear, pain, worry - he pushed it all down, kept it locked away. In some ways, he had a heart of ice. He never broke.

Dean Winchester was strong.

And then one day, just before he turned nineteen, a baby appeared on a motel doorstep. A baby who wasn't his, but was. Would always be. A baby in a pram, with a note addressed to John Winchester, a note that eased the fears this baby was his, but it would be his, really. John Winchester was never a father. Not to him, not to Sam, and therefore not to this baby.

It was early October, and already Maine was cold. Dean's breath clouded in front of him in the cool, dark night. A glance around the parking lot revealed nobody, no cars, nothing to indicate where this baby had come from. His first instinct was to bring the baby in from the cold, and he did, careful to fix the salt line the wheels of the pram disturbed.

The first thing that struck Dean was that this kid was definitely a Winchester. They were a carbon copy of baby Sammy, same little button nose and eyes, barely any hair gracing their head. A memory tugged at the corners of his mind, four years old and holding Sammy for the first time, his mom supporting Sam's head while dad took a picture. Still a kid with two parents but keenly aware of his responsibility, of how his centre of gravity had shifted from himself to his baby brother.

But his mom wasn't here now and Dean would have to support this baby's head on his own. And his dad hadn't taken pictures of his kids since Mary died. So his centre of gravity shifted again to the baby in the pram. Another of John Winchester's kids for Dean to raise. Part of him was angry, part of him defeated. Sammy was fourteen, able to look after himself now. Dean didn't have to worry about him in the same way - Sam fed himself, did his homework, all that crap. Dean had almost been free.

But he couldn't blame the baby. He didn't. It didn't ask for this. Didn't understand anything. Dean reached a hand down, pulled the little yellow blanket away from their face. It was small, smaller than Sammy had been, and not just because Dean was grown now and over six foot. Small in a way that told him this baby was young. Small in a way that put fear into him. Small in a way that made him desperate to protect them from the horrors and cruelty of their world.

He felt sick knowing he could never protect them from that. From their lives. This baby was a Winchester, which basically meant it was fucked.

The bathroom door opened, and Sam walked out.

"What is that?" he asks, damp hair curling against his forehead.

"A baby," Dean replies, still looking down at them.

"A what?" Sam asks incredulously, crossing the room to stand by his brother. He looked down and saw there was, in fact, a baby. "The hell did this come from?"

"Was on the doorstep. Came with this." Dean said, handing Sam the unopened letter addressed to their father.

"It's dad's?" Sam was having a hard time digesting all this. He had to admit, his first thought was it was Dean's. "Where even is he?"

"Bar, I think. Reckon he knows about it?"

"If he knew he had another kid out there, don't ya think he would've mentioned it?"

"Yeah, 'cos Dad's a real open book." Dean replied. Sam turned the envelope over and made to open. "What're you doing? Don't do that, is addressed to Dad."

"Figured this might give us some answers. Maybe a name for the mystery baby."

Dean snatched the letter from his brother. "We ain't reading this til Dad has."

"Is Dad dating anyone?" Sam asked. "He's never mentioned anyone."

Dean shrugged a shoulder. "Doubt Dad dates. Probably a one time thing."

"And after he gave me the safe sex talk. Hypocrite." Sam said. Dean shot him a pointed look but didn't say anything. After all, Sam wasn't wrong. Dean'd received the John Winchester safe sex talk, too (an uncomfortable memory).

As if summoned, the rumble of the Impala's engine and the beams of her headlights signalled their father's arrival. The brothers exchanged a look, knowing that a mystery baby showing up on their doorstep would not go down well with John Winchester. Dean didn’t know why, but he positioned himself in front of the pram, standing between the baby and the door John would walk through. Sam copied him.

The door opened and John walked in, stepping over the salt line. He nodded his head towards his sons, locking the door and shrugging off his leather jacket. He turned around; neither Sam nor Dean had moved, or even said anything.

"What?" he asked gruffly.

"Um, so something kinda... turned up. For you." Dean started. John cocked an eyebrow.

"This ain't exactly our forwarding address. What is it and how'd it get here?" John asked, heading to the fridge for a beer.

"Well... it's..." Dean figured it was easier to just show him, so he stepped to the side and motioned for Sam to do the same.

John nearly dropped his beer. He immediately fixed his gaze on Dean.

"What did you do?" he asked. Dean sighed. Why'd everyone assume it was his?

"It's yours," Sam said bluntly, taking the letter from Dean's hand and holding it out for him. "Showed up on the doorstep with this."

This time John did drop his beer.

The bottle smashed on the floor, glass and alcohol flying everywhere. The sudden noise startled the baby awake, and they promptly burst out crying. John reached for the letter, Sam for a broom, which left Dean with the baby.

He gently lifted them out of the pram, careful of their head. The yellow blanket fell away slightly, revealing a light pink romper underneath. Presumably a girl then. A little sister. Dean rocked them gently, the way he remembers his mother doing with Sam, quietly shushing to calm her down.

In his arms, he was again struck by how small she was. He held her easily in just two hands, one under her head, the other on her back. She opened her eyes then, wide and blue like all babies, taking in the motel room around them before settling on Dean's face.

"Hello, you," he whispered, unable to keep the smile off his face. "I'm your big brother." His heart clenched in his chest as he held her.

"What's the letter say?" Sam asks, knelt on the floor to pick up the glass. John was staring intently at the letter in his hands.

"It's from her mother. Says she can't look after a baby. Too young."

"Jesus, Dad. How young?" Sam asks. Dean groans inwardly. Not the time for this, Sam.

"What the hell are you trying to ask?" John fired back. "She was early twenties. Drinking age, anyway. I don't know why the hell she'd think I'm any more capable of this than she would be. How the hell'd she even find us?" Sam and Dean both shrugged. How were they to know?

"What's her name?" Dean asked, still swaying gently back and forth.

"Amanda something. Don't really remember, to be honest. It was two nights. The sex was alright, nothing special. Didn't exchange numbers."

Sam and Dean cringed. They did not need details.

"I meant the baby, Dad." Dean replied. John at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

"Right, of course. Says here..." He scanned the letter. "Margaret." Dean screwed up his nose. That's an old lady name. His little sister was going to be cool, and that couldn't happen with a name like Margaret.

"That's a terrible name for a baby," Dean said aloud, looking down at her. "She doesn't look like a Margaret."

"Meg March was actually a Margaret," Sam said. John and Dean looked at him, perplexed. "Little Women? Louisa May Alcott?" More blank stares. Sam just rolled his eyes.

"Meg." Dean repeats, squinting his eyes at the baby. It fit. "Meg Winchester."

"It doesn't matter what she's called," John said. "We ain't keeping it." Dean's head snapped up.

"What?" Dean asked incredulously.

"How the hell are we going to look after a baby, Dean?" John asked. "We don't have a house, or any baby supplies. We're always on the move. We're hunters, not nannies. I spent two nights with a woman a year ago and then a baby appears. Kid's probably not even mine anyway. We'll take her to a fire station or something."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. They'd managed before. Sammy had been but six months old when they started hunting, and Dean - though he tried - hadn't been able to help out as much as he could now. This baby was family. Family is everything to the Winchester's.

"Course she's yours, Dad, look at her! She's a spitting image of Sammy as a baby. Besides, Sam was a baby and we raised him on the road. You can't just abandon her." Dean cried out.

"Maybe Dad is right, Dean. She'd be better off with a family - "

"We're her family! The three of us."

"A real family, with a mom, a dad, a house. She'd be normal, Dean, safe. We can't give her any of that!" Sam replied. True, he was projecting his own dreams onto a baby, but he had a valid point, or so he thought. All Dean heard, however, was that Sam didn't believe they were a real family.

"We are a real family, Sam. Just because we don't have a white picket fence, don't mean we ain't a real family. Besides, you really want this kid growing up in the system? Anything could happen to her!"

"Anything could happen to her here, Dean! All it takes is - is a spirit, or a pissed off monster out for revenge, and she-"

"But we can protect her from that. You think some civilian family would keep her safe if a monster decided to get revenge, Sammy? You have know idea what happens in the foster system. She could be abused, or trafficked, or-"

"Enough!" John snapped loudly, startling the baby again. He couldn't hear himself think. And he did need to think, long and hard, about what was best for them, and for the baby. Sam made a good point, of course, and God knows John's not equipped to look after a baby. But Dean was right, too. Anything could happen to her out there. "Sam, get me a beer."

Sam sighed but did as he was told. John walked over to Dean, who was gently rocking the baby to settle her after John's outburst. He looked at the baby for the first time, really looked at her. Dean was right; she was a carbon copy of baby Sam. And she was cute, too. Dean, admittedly, had been a funny looking baby, especially as a newborn, a squished face and large head he eventually grew into. But this baby - Meg, he reminded himself - was sweet looking, almost doll-like, with her pouty pink lips and button nose.

He and Mary had never talked about more kids - Sam had only been a baby when she died - but he'd always imagined them having one or two more, and he'd always wanted a little girl. Mary had, too, he had no doubt.

But Mary wasn't here, and this wasn't her baby. Part of him felt guilty, as though he'd been unfaithful, despite the fact she'd been dead almost fifteen years. John thought of his own father then, Henry, who'd taken off when John was only four, leaving him and his mother on their own. Even all these years later, he still felt bitter about it - bitter and hurt. Of course it hurt, knowing your own father didn't want you and took off into the night. And that's what he was about to do to this little girl. Her mother had already bailed. John was all she had left.

John, and his boys. Sam had kept his distance, almost wary of the baby in Dean's arms, but Dean - he was whipped. That was the only word for it. He was smiling softly down at her, cooing gently to soothe her. Deep down, John knew Dean would end up doing more for this baby than he ever could. But maybe that was a good thing. Dean wouldn't make the mistakes John did. Wouldn't leave her alone like he did, leave her to raise herself.

The guilt twisted in his gut like a knife, but he knew what he had to do.

"We'll keep her. It'll be safest for her. We'll... we'll make it work somehow. We'll have to." John said, placing a large, calloused hand gently on his daughter's head. Dean looked up at him with Mary's green eyes, raw hope etched onto his face.

"Yeah?" He asked softly. John nodded once, clapping his eldest son gently on the shoulder. Sam handed him a beer, then stood on Dean's other side.

"Can I hold her?" Sam asked. Dean looked reluctant to let her go.

"Be careful. She's really small and can't hold her head up on her own yet, so make sure you support it. Don't drop her, for God's sake." Dean rambled on as he gently shifted the infant into Sam's open arms, already fretting like a mother hen. John smiled softly at his children - all three of them.

Sam smiled at the baby, rocking her gently the way Dean had. "Hi, Meg. I'm gonna be your favourite big brother." He said. Dean rolled his eyes.

"No way, Sammy. I'm already her favourite."

"That's crap, she doesn't speak, can't even smile. You don't know that."

"Sure she can, she smiled at me just now."

"Yeah, that was gas, Dean. She farted on you." Sam replied, and Dean's smile faltered.

"Speaking of," Dean said, changing the conversation abruptly. "We're gonna need supplies. Diapers, a car seat, formula."

John nodded, moving to the pram that Meg had turned up in. There was a bag in the basket underneath the bassinet. John leafed through it quickly. "There's some stuff here," he said, holding up a muslin cloth and some diapers. "Enough for tonight, at least. We'll find somewhere in town tomorrow that sells baby stuff. Maybe pick up a book, too."

"A baby book?" Sam asked. "Why'd you need that?"

"It's been a long time since I did any of this, Sammy. Besides, I didn't do it on my own before, I was working a lot. Your mom... your mom looked after you guys most. Did all the hard stuff." John admitted quietly. The room fell into reverent silence the way it always did when someone brought up Mary. Sam didn't point out that he'd still been a baby when she died, and John had raised him for most of life alone. It didn't seem like the time. But a book seemed overboard, in Sam's opinion. How hard could a baby be?

Only a minute or so later, Sam's question was answered. Meg began fussing in his arms, quietly at first, but getting louder despite Sam's gentle shushing and swaying. When her cries turned to wails, he looked up at his father and brother, panic in his eyes. "I think I broke her."

It was Dean that stepped forward, plucking the baby from his arms. "You didn't break her," he assured Sam. John stepped up too, looking down at the infant whose fist she was trying to squeeze into her mouth.

"See how she's sucking her hand?" John spoke quietly. "Mean's she's hungry. C'mon Sam, I'll show you how to make a bottle. If I can work it out, that is."

Sam and John stepped away to prepare the formula. Dean watched them as he swayed the baby. "It's okay, princess. Daddy and Sammy will get you some food."

Dean watched his father, usually so confident and self assured in everything he did, falter at almost every step. Checking the instructions on the formula, then checking again. Rinsing a bottle and filling it with hot water. Hands hesitant, unsure of what they were doing. Hands that could assemble a shot gun in under a minute, but seemed to tremble as he shook the bottle. Testing the temperature on his palm, his wrist, then his wrist again. He had no idea how warm it should be.

Although it was strange to see John so unsteady, Dean found it strangely... comforting. Humanising, perhaps. He pictured briefly John doing the same thing for him as a baby, the unsure hands of a first time father. Pictured his mom along side, walking him through each step.

John handed the formula to Dean. "You gonna do it?" he asked. Dean nodded. He didn't want to relinquish the baby, even though John hadn't even held her yet. Although, he'd made no move to hold her either. John talked him through it, how to hold the bottle, at what angle, as best he could remember.

Dean paced slowly around the small living space of their motel room with his sister in his arms. Sam had pulled out some homework, John writing something in his journal, beer in hand. But for Dean, it was just him and his sister in the world. Hell, his sister was his world now.

Dean Winchester was strong.

But he could feel his heart thawing out for the baby in his arms. He knew he needed to be strong for her, yet he'd never felt so weak. The fear of what could happen to her, the need to keep her safe, was almost overwhelming. Was this parenthood?

The love, too, he supposed was overwhelming. The kind that made his heart clench, made him want to fix the world for her and burn it down at the same time. The kind he'd kill and die for.

And somehow, despite everything he'd seen and done in only eighteen years, this was the scariest thing he'd encountered to date. He kept it together for her. He was strong. He had to be.

He's Dean Winchester.

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ellieslittleburrow · 8 months ago

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Summary : John Winchester, your father, is protective of you

Warnings : swearing and cute John

A/N : should we write more John Winchester?

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John Winchester, a man of many flaws. Sammy can attest to that, he suffered the most from John's decisions. Dean would stand against that, he's been John's boy since the day he was born. Dad this, dad that; That doesn't mean it isn't complicated, though.

You on the other hand.....umm....not suuuure where you stand really, where do you stand?

Everything felt different for you with John. Everything. His love for you was established since the beginning. He got a spark in his eyes whenever you were around that neither of his two boys ever got the chance to see, even Dean.

You were his baby girl.

There were the times where he stood up for you. The bullies??? Never stood a chance. There was that one time in particular when you got h-

"Hey! What did i tell you about slamming doors?" A scolding growl sounded, one that would usually....send shivers down your spine. This time it left you unbothered, or maybe fueled your anger even more.

In an attempt to not cry in front of the Great Winchester, you hurried to the bed assigned to you and threw yourself into a sleeping position, your back facing him.

"HEY" his growl grew angrier and you just hugged yourself. You didn't need him exploding your eardrums on top of everything else that had happened that day. His steps closed in on you and soon enough, your waist was gently being pulled back- you were facing him.

As his eyes navigated around your face, his features simultaniously softened. The creases shaped by the frown on your eyebrows, the sucked in lower lip, the damp eyelashes, all signs of-

"You were crying?" A stupid question that John needed no answer to. He somehow knew why, too. But he asked anyway. "Was it the kids at school?"

With that-you force yourself back on your side. "I told you not to force me into a new school."

Your mumble is muffled but John already knew what you were going to say-you've had this conversation many a times before.

"Come on" Your father tapped your butt before heading towards the door. And your curiosity itched your brain and you turned around, sitting up.

"Where are you going?" You asked and he glanced at you over his own shoulder, a mischivious smile embellishing his face.

"Just get your ass up."

Over in the car, John turned to you. "Do you know where this kid lives?"

You took your damn time to respond, both of you will get into trouble buuuuuuut.... A smirk ghosted your lips. "Yeaaaah?"

"Good, that saves us a lot of time."

You nervously chuckled. "A lot of time for what, dad?" The Impala roared as silence followed your question. You sort of understood. And as you directed him towards the bully's house, your stomach tightened in a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

"Right there, the Cayenne, his father's." You pointed at the car and your dad shamelessly parked his own only a few couples of meters away.

Another nervous chuckle left your lips as your head popped forward. Your eyes followed your dad as he jumped out of the car and headed for the trunk. The hood popped up for a minute and then your dad reappeared with what seemed to be a....BAT?

You jumped out of the car and distress shot through your veins. "Dad" You called for him but he'd already made up his mind and as you stressfullly walked behind him, he casually headed for the car, the bat vibrating in his hands. "Dad, you're gonna get us into trouble." You whispered as if whispering would make the crime your father is about to commit any less obvious.

But John totally ignored you and he swung the bat before sending it into the Cayenne's back window-the glass instantly chattered. You flinched and before you were even able to process the first hit, a second one echoed through the quiet neighborhood.

You flinched again. "Dad, st-"

"I'm only doing this for you, honey." John rounded the car and stopped at the front of the car. "If it were up to me, i'd slice the boy AND his father." The third swing hit harder, more violent. And the alarm continues blaring. "All he had to do was teach his son some manners. But since he can't do that, i'll teach 'em both a good lesson."

There's that story, and there's another one. Where you're being you, and for you, emotions have a like, a giant gravitational pull on your life-just like this time.

You and dad have been on the road for almost two days-stupid shapeshifters and it's that week of the month that's the most chaoti-- and this stupid fucking booth is weird and squishy and-

Your cheeks grew hot and wetness suddenly streamed down your face. When John noticed, he blew out a long sigh. He shut his eyes slowly, bringing his index and thumb to the opposite sides of his face, rubbing roughly.

Not fucking cool, dad. This shit's tiring enough. 'You know what-" You stop midsentence, rushing off to the bathroom but a sudden strain pulled you back.

"No-no, i'm sorry, honey, i'm sor-"

"I'm already tired enough." Your voice came out full and rough, heavy with the build up of saliva in your throat. "don't need you making fun of m-" You were about to yank your wrist away when he held it tighter.

"Come on that's not what's happening here." John swiftly got up and faced you. "I just-i'm tired too, kid. I-" He sighed again, and you wiped away your tears.

"Coooome here." Too slow but too sweet-and not a question either, your dad reached for the back of your head and brought it to his chest. He planted a kiss over your hair and gently swayed both of your bodies left and right. "Dad's here." His tone might've been gentle, but it still bore a hint of annoyance.

He doesn't mean-he "You don't mean that-you're just saying it because i'm-"

"Noo i do mean it, baby, i do-" he sighed once more. "I'm just tired. That's why i sound like this." He planted a second kiss on your forehead before boaring into your eyes. You dropped your gaze down in the process, too-

"I'm sorry." His thick eyebrows softened back to their normal position. And his bunny teeth appeared. Amused, he hesitated to speak for a few seconds. "You know you're too old for this right?"

You pinched his waist, causing him to jerk back, choking on a chuckle.

You sniffed, throwing embarassed glances his way. "Shut up."

"I'm sorry, honey."

What the hell is wrong with me? Is the first thought that comes to mind. There sure are many more stories to tell about the great John Winchester. But to sum it all up, you are indeed on his fucking side.

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@marvelfanfn2187a113

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WOO WOO, i hope yall made it to the end. See ya next time 🖤🖤🖤🥀🥀🥀

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inlovewhithafairytale · 1 year ago

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POV: The Winchester's have a little sister

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jasmines-library · 1 year ago

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Hiii!! Firstly, I love your writing and I hope you’re having a great day!! I was hoping to request a Winchester sibling fic where the reader is really comforted by physical touch but is really observant and receptive to the fact their brothers are emotionally constipated and touch starved so the reader has never really asked for it but then one day either just a bad day or bad hunt and the reader just asks the boys to hold them or one of them to sit in the back of the Impala with them? Thank you so so much and I hope you have a lovely day!! 🫶

So close, yet too far.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Summary: You just really need a hug.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Touch Starved, character death mentioned, swearing

p.s. Sorry for the long wait! I've got exams at the moment so they're taking up a lot of my time.

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Life as a hunter was never still. You were constantly moving. Constantly looking over your shoulder. Constantly chasing what could be your last day on earth. And you wouldn’t ever have said you regretted it. No. In fact, you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. Hunting creatures and saving the world? It was all You couldn’t have imagined a better life…

But sometimes you found yourself wanting life to just slow down for a minute. It was so hectic and you just needed a breath. A hug. With such a busy life, there was no time for just spending quality time with your brothers. Or anyone for that matter. It was an endless cycle: Wake up. Research. Hunt. Drive. Sleep. There was no time for sitting on the couch and watching cheesy movies together. Nor was there any time for curling up together like you used to do when you were smaller. You found yourself yearning for it. For a hug or simply just a gentle arm around your shoulder. It used to bring you so much comfort. But times were tough with all that had happened recently. The three of you were even more on edge than ever before.

Your brothers had always told you that you could ask them for anything. That you could tell them whatever you wanted… but this wasn’t just something you could ask them for. You had seen how they often shunned away from touch. From relationships. Having seen so much pain and having lost so many people…they struggled to allow themselves to let their guard down enough to enjoy a tender moment. Even with you. So no matter how much you yearned for it you could never bring yourself to push the want from your mind and into words.

So when the hunt went worse than you could have imagined you kept quiet.

Dean’s hand was right there; peeking out from the hem of his flannel. His fingers were bloody and calloused, scarred and covered in small cuts and yet his touch was still tender. You felt your own fingers itch to reach out and lace them between his. You wanted for him or Sam to wrap you up in their arms and hold you close. To squeeze your hand. Or a shoulder. But you knew that they had much more pressing matters to deal with that overshadowed “needy little sister”.

You trailed behind them, dragging your feet ever so slightly to kick up the dirt and leave trails between the orange leaves. You did not look up at your brothers because you knew you would see Dean's set jaw and Sam’s pinched eyebrows as they too mourned the hunt.

A small boy had been caught by a shtriga. He had been no older than 5 or 6 with these big, blue eyes that got impossibly wider as the creature stalked toward him. And his scream…it pierced through the air like a beam of light: clear as day yet providing no clarity. No safety like light should bring. Instead it was cold and filled with a gripping terror.

The three of you had been too slow. No matter how hard you dragged your stubborn limbs you couldn’t get to him fast enough. So now you trudged along in silence.

The sight of Baby did not, in fact, provide you with the relief you thought it would. Instead the gleaming of the bonnet against the moonlight just made your stomach churn. You knew that you would all try to bury the memory in a box, deep in the back of your mind. But it was never that easy. They tried hard, but you would hear them late at night. Dean hardly slept as he tried to drink his troubles away and Sam barely left his room. And then there was you who lay awake staring blankly at the ceiling as you wept softly, wrapping your arms around yourself to curl up in a ball. It didn’t bring the same comfort as theirs did, like it had done when you were small and naive when you crawled into their bed after a nightmare. When things weren’t so fucking complicated.

Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as you reached for the metal handle. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t sit in silence to be left with your own thoughts. You couldn’t be alone. Not right now.

“Sammy…” Your voice was quiet. Hushed. Barely a whisper pushed out on cracked lips that trembled.

Sam paused, his hand halfway between where he had been picking at the hem of his jeans and the handle of the passenger door. He lifted his head, humming softly in acknowledgement.

“Sit with me… Please.”

“Of course.” His face melted and he moved in one swift movement.

He slid in the backseat, leaning against the door frame and stretching out across the seats. He pulled you in to lean against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You lay your head on his shoulder, snuggling into his side. And began to weep.

“Kiddo?” Sam asked gently. “What’s up?” His hands traced small circles on your arm.

Dean reached over the back of the seat with a concerned look, though part of it could be easily mistaken for fear. “It’s not your fault, Sweetheart-” He started.

“Just…hold me. Please.” You clung onto Sam, your other hand reaching out to settle atop of Dean’s. Their touch was comforting, yet you couldn’t help the wavering as you wept. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

And so they did. Sam nestled you further into his side, tucking your head beneath his chin and Dean clambered out of his seat to join the two of you in the back. He settled down on your other side, sandwiching you between the two of you. And they held you. They ran their fingers through your hair, held your hand and spoke to you. They held you tight and the three of you stayed close together, with no intention of moving any time soon.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr

@aestheticdaisies

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@inlovewhithafairytale

@harleycao

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

#supernatural x reader #supernatural #spn x reader #spn x sister reader #supernatural x sister reader #supernatural x little sister reader #supernatural fanfiction #hurt/comfort #touch starved #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x sister reader #Sam Winchester #Sam Winchester x reader #Sam Winchester x sister reader

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imbadatwrighting · 3 months ago

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Reader after getting caught stealing from a mall: Santa knows when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. I get that. He’s got some kind of sensor somewhere. But I never imagine he use mall Santas as his eyes and ears. It’s brilliant! We are so screwed!

Dean: Hun, it’ll be okay. I’m sure you’ll get presents this year.

Reader: Are you, Dean? Are you so sure?

Sam: Yeah, we’re pretty sure.

Reader: I’m sorry, all of a sudden you’re a Santa expert? Did Santa give you an exclusive interview you never told us about? Did you intern in the North Pole as an undergrad?

Dean: That’s not how… you know what? For…just forget it.

#little late since Christmas was yesterday but whateva 🤷‍♀️#source: bob's burgers #x reader #supernatural #supernatural x reader #dean winchester #platonic #winchester sister #sam winchester #spn #spn x reader #incorrect quotes #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #winchester #daughter winchester #supernatural incorrect quotes

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outof-spite · 8 months ago

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WHERE ARE THEY

[07 August 2024, this is in Massachusetts btw! i was there for a conference]

#gay people #dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester #spnedit #spn x reader #spn #spnfandom #supernatural x reader #supernatural hurt/comfort #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester & little sister!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x castiel #destiel #dean winchester & little sister!reader

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disguting-girl-reads · 5 days ago

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i love eldest daughter dean and baby brother sammy

i love dirty blonded hair deanna, named after her grandmother that she never met, that insists to be called just dean, bc she thinks it sounds cooler

i love cool girl dean, who wears short shorts and combat boots and her dad's oversized band shirts and knows more about muscle cars than any of the teenage boys in school

I love older sister dean who picks sammy up after school in the lowest rise jeans she owns bc she enjoyes how embarrassed he gets in front of his friends

I love pervy 14 year old little brother sammy sneaking glances at dean while she's changing her clothes, and how annoyed he is that she does this with him around, so carelessly because she sees him as just a kid still

i love even more embarrassed little brother sammy (actually not so little anymore) when his cool hot older sister shows up after him in california because dad's missing and how he can't never explain to jess why his sister looks so much like her

#samdean #wincest #female dean winchester #straight wincest ew #sorry about that #they're both bi though i wouldn't make them that much straight #but yea #big sister dean x little brother sam #it makes my dick hard im sorry 😞#girl!dean #genderswap wincest

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 1 month ago

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Speak up

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by @outof-spite and Anonymous (+ @ whoever I swear left me a vampire request that I think I lost, hopefully you know who you are)

Synopsis: You barely talk, and never raise your voice . . . So the boys are in for a surprise during a hunt

“Could you speak up?”

Dean watched you flounder for a moment after the waiter’s demand spilled out. You managed to stutter a few—still mumbled—words, but nothing the waiter would understand.

“She said she wanted the burger,” Dean spoke up for you. “No pickles.”

You squirmed sheepishly in your seat as the waiter walked away, but Dean was unfazed.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean shook his head. He was used to your soft voice, and he’d been speaking for you since you learned to talk. “I got you.”

…

“Last one,” Sam said to Dean as he tied off the last stitch in Dean’s arm. “Finished.”

“About dang time,” Dean grumbled, rubbing his arm.

“And if you pull at them, I’m gonna have to do it again,” Sam chided. He turned suddenly when you tugged on his arm. “Yeah?”

You held onto his sleeve with one hand, holding your other one up for him to see. It was now that he noticed your wrist twisted at an odd angle.

“Jeez, kid,” Dean hissed, looking over Sam’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You just shrugged, and Sam shook his head.

“Ok, alright, just keep your arm still, ok?” Sam took your hand in his, putting his other hand on your arm to keep it still. Sam met Dean’s eye for a split second before looking back at you. “Ready? One—“

“Boo!” Dean’s outburst interrupted Sam’s counting, catching your attention just as Sam twisted your wrist back into position.

You let out a sound that was half laugh and half whimper, but it was hardly louder than the sound of the wind outside.

“You ok?” Sam asked softly. You nodded, burrowing into his side while you cradled your wrist.

“You’re a tough kid,” Dean told you, ruffling your hair. You offered him a small smile, but no words.

The boys were used to your quiet nature, so it rarely concerned them. This felt a little different to Sam.

“Hey, you gotta let us know when you’re hurt, ok?”

“I did,” you mumbled. “I just wanted you to fix De up first.”

“Don’t do that,” Dean cut in. “I want you fixed up first, every time.”

But you didn’t answer him, and Sam knew this would be something you and Dean would both be stubborn about.

…

“Sam, take the front with me. Y/N, you can go around the back.”

“You…you want her going alone?” Sam asked.

“There are big windows in the back, it’s brighter. The vampires won’t be back there, she’s going in as backup.” Dean’s eyes met yours. “You up for a little solo trip, kid?”

You hefted your machete and gave Dean a firm nod.

He grinned. “That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”

…

You slipped around the side of the run-down home, surprised to see boards nailed up over the windows in the back. You hesitated, wondering if you should go get Dean—obviously the vampires would be free to roam the back of the house with the windows boarded up—but you decided against it. Dean had given you this task, and you wouldn’t let a few pieces of wood stop you.

…

Dean was surprised at how few vampires he and Sam encountered in the front of the house. They were met instantly by three, and it was quick and easy work lobbing off their heads.

“I thought there’d be more,” Sam admitted. “Do you think—“

The shriek that echoed through the little shack would haunt Dean for the rest of his life. It was so jarring that he froze on the spot, his eyes seeking out Sam’s in the gloom.

“Was that—that was—“ Sam’s voice broke, and he followed his big brother as Dean kicked open the door to the back room and ran in, machete clenched tightly in his fist. The room he’d busted into was empty, and Dean looked frantically around for another door.

“Dean!” The scream was so foreign that for the second time, Dean was struggling to place it as you. Never, on a hunt or during a scary movie or in a fit of anger or—or anything—had Dean heard you yell like that, or at all. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard you speak higher than a soft murmur.

“Dean—“ Sam’s frantic voice snatched Dean’s attention, and he turned to see Sam shoving open a door at the far side of the room. “It came from this way.”

But through the door was a hallway that split two ways, and the brothers could no longer hear your screams to guide their way.

With a simple gesture nod of his chin, Dean relaid a plan to Sam; Dean would go one way, Sam the other.

Dean stalked down the hallway, his heart hammering in his ears and his machete gripped in his sweaty palms. He passed room after room, but there was no sign of you or the vamps.

“Dean!” Unlike when you screamed, Dean recognized Sam’s cry for help immediately. He turned on his heal, dashing for where he last saw his brother.

“Sam!” Dean rounded the corner, but there was no one in sight. “No no no no—“ Dean growled, rushing out the back door into the fresh air. A car was already speeding down the dirt road—the vampires must have braved the sun in order to take their hostages away. Dean rushed around to the front of the house and threw himself into the Impala. The tires crunched on the road as Dean slammed the car into reverse and twisted it around, swerving around the house and following down the dirt road that the vampires had disappeared down with his siblings.

“Cas,” Dean spit out as he drove. “Cas, things are really going bad down here. We could use some backup.”

…

“Sam? Sa-Sammy?”

Sam awoke to a pounding headache and to your quiet voice stuttering his name.

“The big one’s awake!” A grating voice made Sam cringe as he opened his eyes and squinted in the dim light. Course ropes bound his wrists, and he felt hard concrete under him as he shifted until his eyes finally fell on you.

“Sammy?” You were a whimpering mess, curled in on yourself with tears streaming down your face and blood matting your hair to your neck, which was stained red and still bleeding.

“Hey—“ Sam forced himself to sit up, mentally doing a wellness check; it didn’t feel like he’d been bitten, and the only thing that hurt was his head from when one of the cowardly monsters had snuck up behind him and knocked him out. “Hey, are you ok?” He asked you.

“I’m—I’m—“

“Oh she’s fine.” A vampire sauntered over to the two of you, flashing a mouthful of razor sharp teeth that were stained red. “I just had a little snack while you were asleep,” he added, stepping closer to you.

You were cringing away from the monster, your pale body shuddering.

“Get away from her!” Sam snapped.

The vampire ignored Sam, lifting you by the front of your shirt and lowering his head to your neck.

Sam tried to throw himself at the vamp to stop him, but the rest of the nest had come to watch, and one of them grabbed onto Sam to stop him.

“Stop! Leave her alone, don’t hurt her!” Sam could do nothing but protest as the vampire fed off his little sister. For the first time, he noticed the other bite marks on you—more than one vamp had fed on you while he was unconscious. It wasn’t just your neck, either; Sam saw bites all along your shoulder, blood marks on your stomach, and a ripped and bloody mess at your thigh. Sam felt his stomach lurch at the image of half a dozen vampires feeding on you, their fangs ripping up your skin and their monster hands all over you.

He wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“You’re gonna kill her!” Sam yelled. When no one paid him any mind, he head butted the vamp that was holding him in place, giving him a moment of freedom that he knew he’d have to use wisely. With his hands tied, his options were limited, so he followed his instincts and threw himself in front of you, knocking the vampire that had been feeding on you to the ground.

It was a good plan—Sam was now able to be between the vampires and you, giving him a moment to reason with them while you weren’t in as much danger.

“Keep her alive and-and you’ll have an unlimited supply,” Sam babbled, grasping for any possible argument to save you. He’d glanced back long enough to see you, ghostly pale and trembling, looking like you barely had life left in you. “But if you take anymore of her blood now you’re gonna kill her.”

The vampire wiped your blood off his chin, a sickening grin on his face.

“That’s all well and fine.” He chuckled. “Except we haven’t eaten in days, so we’re not too worried about conserving our supply.”

“Then—“ Sam swallowed. He could hear your ragged breathing behind him and feel your tiny hand on his arm, tugging at his jacket like you wanted to stop him from what you knew was coming. “Then feed on me. Not her.”

“Sammy.” Your tiny voice cracked as you tugged at your brother’s arm. Sam turned around to face you, effectively blocking you from seeing the vampires behind him.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he promised, brushing your blood-soaked hair away from your face. “You’re gonna be ok.” He leaned forward, kissing the side of your head so he could whisper— “Dean’s gonna find you, you’re gonna be ok.”

“Don’t—don’t—“ you choked, gripping Sam’s hands in a vice grip.

“I gotta protect you,” Sam said, a smile reaching his lips despite the terror in his eyes as the vampires grabbed onto his shoulders and yanked him away from you. “That’s what big brothers do, kid.”

You tried to go to him, but one of the vampires held you back, tying you to the leg of a desk next to you while the others forced Sam to his knees.

“It’s ok, it’s gonna be ok,” Sam repeated even while he grimaced as a vampire bit into his neck.

You started screaming when Sam’s eyes fluttered closed, the blood draining from his face as he swayed on his knees.

“No! Stop, no!”

…

Once again the harrowing sound of your shrieking froze Dean in his tracks, and even Castiel’s step faltered.

“It—I—this way.” Dean shook off his fear as he led the way towards the sound of your voice.

…

Sam’s head was starting to droop, his breathing labored, when the door swung open, slamming into the wall with a deafening crash.

Dean and Cas burst in, wasting no time in taking out the first vampires that dared to get too close to them.

The vamps nearest to you and Sam forgot you instantly, rushing to attack the two new threats.

They’d been relieved of their heads before they’d gotten one swing into the fight.

Dean rushed to check on Sam, dropping to his knees to untie him while Cas went to you. Once your hands were free, Cas tried to heal the obvious injuries he could see across your skin, but you were dashing away from him before he got the chance.

“Sam!” Your voice echoed around the concrete walls, and the pain and desperation Dean heard in it knocked him back on his heels.

Sam groggily lifted his head just in time to see you running into his arms. You slammed into him, and Sam held you in a death grip to him, rocking you back and forth.

“It’s ok,” he promised. “We’re ok.”

“I love you,” you whispered.

Sam knew right then that he’d rather have to decipher your mumbling for a million people than have to hear you scream in pain and fear again. He knew right then that your quiet whispers were the best sound he’d ever heard.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, words only for your ears.

“I need to heal you,” Castiel spoke up, breaking the two of you apart.

“Sammy first.” Sam barely heard your voice as you made your request to the angel.

“What did you say?” Cas asked. Instead of answering, you tugged at Cas’s hand and pushed it against Sam’s forehead, making Sam grin. Cas’s hand pulsed blue, and color returned to Sam’s face as he took a deep breath and the bite mark at his neck closed up.

“Here.” Sam shrugged his jacket off and wrapped it around you, covering the rips in your clothes before nodding to Cas to heal you. Sam saw Dean clenching his fists, and knew that his older brother had seen the bites covering your body.

“Thanks Cas,” you whispered, and Sam knew at once that Cas hadn’t heard you. Before the angel could ask, though, Sam wrapped you in his arms and mouthed to his friend—thank you.

Cas nodded, and Dean tugged at your arm.

“You ok sweetheart?” He asked. His eyes were wide and his hands were trembling, the adrenaline from hearing your screams not yet worn off.

You nodded, yet again mumbling. But Dean wasn’t impatient now—he just leaned closer and gently asked you to speak again.

“Can we go home now?” You asked. Dean grinned and tugged you into his arms.

“Yeah kiddo,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

Taglist:

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redbird-tf · 6 months ago

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Harmony

Sam winchester x younger sister x dean winchester

(More sam focused)

Summary: the brothers still had lots to learn about their sister, like the weight of her favorite harmony

Word count: 1.2k

Notes: the harmony i think of for reference

Warnings: angst, mention of death, violence

To say it had been a tough day would be an understatement it had been a tough few months. You were having a hard time adjusting to finding out you had two brothers, Sam was struggling to step into the big brother role, and Dean seemed to be doing the best out of the three. Of course, Dean was shocked, but he had been a big brother for years. The only thing Dean struggled with was the guilt and anger that you had been in this life alone for years.Hunting together was also proving to be a challenge. Dean and Sam had teamed up for years, but your independent nature often clashed with their established rhythm, making hunts more difficult. It would take time before you could truly function as a team.

If the boys had learned anything about you it was that harmony you were always humming. It wasn’t from any song the boys recognized, but it was the same every time you hummed it. Sometimes they’d hear it even when you weren’t around, because of how ingrained it was in their mind. Right now it was serving as the source of Sam’s annoyance. “Y/n i can't focus with your humming” Sam snapped from the passenger seat. You were lying in the back half asleep and hadn't even noticed you were humming. You let out a huff, abruptly grumbling out a half-hearted “sorry” which seemed to irritate Sam more as he slammed his book shut. “You know what? I've had it up to here with you.” He exclaimed turning to face you. “What did i do!?” You shouted back sitting straight up. “UH, the bruise on my face!” He mocked pointing at his black eye. “Thats not my fault!” You rebuttal, furrowing your brows “It wouldn’t have happened if you had just followed the plan” he countered “Your plan didn't work!”

“Alright, enough!” Dean’s booming voice made you both fall silent. “We all messed up, alright? Now knock it off.” He stated firmly. The car stayed silent, but he could see you two exchanging glares from the corner of his eye “Stop looking at each other” Dean commanded, and in sync, you both slouched back with your arms crossed. “Why do I always gotta be the frick’n mom” dean mumbled under his breath.

———————

“This it, Sammy?” Dean questioned pulling over. Sam looked down at his map “Route 46, the last spotting of a vampire was here” Sam stated stepping out of the car. “Got the dead man's blood?” Dean asked watching Sam sling the bag over his shoulder. Sam nodded leading the way into the woods. “I've never seen a vampire before” you whispered to Dean to prevent Sam from hearing you. “Well their not easy…” Dean paused seeing the flicker of worry in your eyes “Dead man's blood is about the only thing that will kill them, and they come in packs…but so do we” he explained trying to ease your obvious concern of messing up.

“Over here” Sam gestured for you to catch up. “Thats it?” You asked quietly, eyeing the old barn “There's only three in there” Sam said lowering his binoculars. You watched as they prepared their knives by dowsing them in blood, “be careful with that,” Dean stated handing you a dagger. You all crept to the back of the barn and snuck in through a cracked window. You dropped in a bit louder than intended, prompting Sam to shush you, annoyance flashing across your face. Tiptoeing over to the sleeping vampires. You loomed over them, waiting for Dean’s signal and when you got it, you pushed your danger hard into the vamp. He scratched hard into your arm but you held firm, only pulling away when you were sure he was down for good. You turned to your brothers “That was easier than expected”

You quickly realized you had spoken too soon as your body slammed violently intk the ground and your vision became a red blur. A burning sensation spread across your face and loud noises overwhelmed you, causing you to scream out for your brothers “i can't see! I can't see anything!” You cried in pure terror. The last thing you heard was sams voice drawing near before everything went black.

——————-

“It's been over three hours Dean” Sam's voice wavered while he paced back and forth. “She’ll be fine” Dean reassured him, adjusting the bandage covering your eyes before leaning back in the chair at your bedside. “What if she hit her head too hard?” Sam stuttered out. “She's fine,” Dean said sternly, though part of him was trying to convince himself. “We should take her to the hospital,” Sam insisted, balling his fist. “And say what, Sam? My sister got scratched across the face by a vamp” Dean explained the harsh truth. Sam sighed looking down at you, his lip quivering. “I'm gonna grab a beer,” Dean said, rising from the chair knowing he couldn’t hold it together much longer.

Once Dean had left, Sam knelt by your side and took your hand in his. Guilt gnawed him, knowing the last thing he did was yell at you for something as simple as humming. What's worse is that he knew you hummed to comfort yourself. A detail he had picked up on over the months. He’d watched you hum yourself to sleep, after hunts, or when the world felt overwhelming. Sam bit his lip feeling his eyes begin to gloss over. How could he have been so cruel? How could he call himself a big brother?

He closed his eyes and began to hum the familiar harmony, seeking his own solace within it. “Mom?” Your voice rang, barely louder than a whisper. Sams's head shot up “Y/n” he breathed out. His body flooded with Relief. “Sam?” You became confused as you abruptly sat up. “Woah, easy there,” Sam said placing his hands on your shoulder to steady you. “I-I can't see” stammered, panic creeping back in. “I know. You got hurt and we had to stitch you up. I can remove the bandage if you want” he explained gently in an attempt to soothe you. You nodded and Sam began to slowly unravel the bandages. You looked around and saw the bunker walls surrounding you, your eyes beginning to uncontrollably water.

Your figures brushed over the stitches on your face, tears beginning to well in your eyes. Your reaction was making Sam nervous “We did the best we could, it shouldn’t scar too bad” he tried to reassure you, but You stayed silent, your gaze dropping to your lap. “I thought i died, i thought..” you paused, “i thought you were my mom” you muttered. Despite the circumstances, a small laugh escaped Sam's lips “Why would you think that?” He asked with a slight smirk. “You were humming her melody” you stated blankly. Sams's smile dropped, and the guilt he didn’t know could grow any larger, grew “y/n, I'm sorry…i didn't know” he apologized, moving to sit next to you. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, but you couldn’t muster the strength to look him in the eye.

“She's awake?” A voice shattered the tension as Dean rushed to your side, unintentionally pushing Sam aside. He embraced you tightly “you gave us a scare there, kid” he breathed out with a chuckle. You mumbled a sorry into his shoulder before pulling away to meet sams gaze. The eye contact took him by surprise and it took him a moment to gather his words “y/n, I'm sorry for snapping at you, you didn't deserve that.” He watched as your gaze softened, but continued to press on“And…i won't hum that again, i didn't know” he explained lowering his head. You shook your head “No Sam, it's ok. You do it perfectly and…” he gazed up at you again, seeing a smile tug at your lips “It's comforting” Your tender tone washed away the heaviness in his chest. Sam mouthed a thank you, taking your hand in his as his thumb glided over your knuckles.

“Did i miss something?” Dean questioned glancing between you and sam, a hint of frustration that made you both laugh. “No no…i just” Sam stopped, taking a moment to appreciate the happy version of you that had replaced the distressed one he’d seen just moments before. “I'm just learning what it means to be a big brother” Sam expressed with a wide smile. Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, then you can watch her while i get some shut-eye” he said, giving Sam’s shoulder a light pat. Sam tried to rebuttal, but Dean cut him off “you wanted to be the big brother, welcome to the job,” Dean teased. He shook his head until he felt you lean into him. He glanced over seeing how you relaxed against him. This is the brother he wanted to be.

#dean winchester drabble #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester angst #sam winchester masterlist #sam winchester #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam fanfic #sam fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester x little sister #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester angst #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural x reader

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smoky-lucine · 3 months ago

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Dean Finds You After Running Away

Dean Winchester & Little sister!reader ft. John and Sam Winchester After a hunt with John goes wrong, you decide to try to run away, not making it far. Reader is around 12 years old, Sam 16 and Dean 20, Injuries, mention of fighting, nobody's really happy long day :/ hopefully tomorrow is better

Everybody was tired of John yelling at you. He decided it was a good idea to bring you on a wendigo hunt, giving you a flamethrower that was too heavy for you to hold and expecting you to do the big kill with him, also bringing one for himself. Sam and Dean were very worried for you, but did not want to upset John and didn’t argue.

It obviously did not go well. After finding the monster in an open field, taking another person to kill, the four of you run out to take the wendigo down. John sprints toward it pulling his trigger, and the flames shoot out injuring it and lighting its abdomen on fire. You catch up to him and struggle to lift your flamethrower up enough to aim at the wendigo, and Dean runs behind you to help you aim, hitting the tall monster.

The wendigo notices you while in pain and tries to attack you, knocking the flamethrower out of your hands while you and Dean fall back in pain, just before the wendigo completely lights up in flames and falls to the ground dead. You fall onto Dean, the both of you coughing and out of breath. John rushes everybody to the car and starts to drive away, noticing Dean beside him holding his side in pain. John lifts his shirt up revealing the huge bruise already forming and he feels where three of Dean’s ribs broke during the fall.

The rest of the ride consists of John yelling at Dean about why he would even think of helping you and how foolish he is to get hurt, and berating you as to why you couldn’t do it yourself and asking you why you never do anything right with the family business.

Hours later in the motel, John is passed out asleep after coming back from the bar. Dean sleeps beside you holding an ice pack to his ribs and Sam comforts you, still upset about the hunt.

“You know none of this is your fault, right? Dad never should’ve even brought you with us let alone expect you to kill a wendigo on one of your first hunts.” Sam tucks you into bed before turning off the lights and getting into his own bed, the pull-out couch.

“I know. I just feel like I don’t do enough to help you guys. I’m not good at hunting but he doesn’t trust me to stay home by myself.” You turn to look at Sam and he looks at you like he knows what you’re going to say.

“Why can’t we just run away from Dad? Dean’s an adult a-and he could be our guardian. We could move far away, and he wouldn’t know where we went and-”

Sam stops you as John moves in his sleep and rolls over in his bed. His breathing continues as normal, and Sam puts a finger to his mouth to tell you to talk quieter.

“Y/N I’ve already told you why we can’t run away. It’s just not safe right now.”

“But it seems so easy. It’s like he doesn’t even care.”

“I know it does, I’m sorry Y/N. Get some rest, I don’t know where we’re going tomorrow.” Sam rolls over and eventually falls asleep.

But you just can’t sleep. John expects you to be on par with him, and yells at you for hours when any of you aren’t. You hurt Dean because of your mistake, and he’s not able to hunt for weeks now. Why can’t you run away? The door is right there.

You quietly get out of bed and grab your backpack filled with your hunting equipment and spare clothes and make your way out the door. You made it outside. It really was that easy.

Looking around at the quiet parking lot, you start heading down the road going towards the diner just a bit away. John didn’t even bother getting dinner after the hunting fiasco.

Using the diner’s bathroom, you change out of your pajamas into your everyday clothes and take a seat. The waitress takes your order and leaves to ring it in. The diner wasn’t busy with how late it was, but the people that were eating did not look friendly, and a few looked at you confused. You were a little young to be out by yourself this late.

You finish your meal waiting for your change from the waitress, when you hear the front door jingle. Looking up you see Dean, making eye contact with you, not happy.

He sits down in the booth in front of you and picks at the fries you didn’t finish. You sit in silence for a few minutes before Dean sighs and looks down.

“Where were you going to go after this?” He raises his eyebrows looking at you.

“I don’t know. Sleep at the park?” you look outside the window looking for any ideas, but the town is so tiny there isn’t much. Dean chuckles and looks outside too.

“Yeah, I’ve tried that one. Good way to get your bag stolen, you just have to walk back to the motel with nothing.”

Deans never mentioned that he’s ran away before. He sees the surprise in your face and continues as he laughs.

“Oh of course I’ve done all this before. Do you think you’re the only one that wants away from Dad? I’ve tried all the tricks and plans. Every time it’s either he finds you, or you make your way back to him.”

You sigh and look at Dean still holding his ribs silently in pain.

“Dean I’m so sorry I hurt you I really didn’t mean it I-”

“It’s okay kid, I’ve had worse. Really. All I care about is getting you home before Dad knows you tried to leave. He wouldn’t let you hear the end of it after earlier.”

The two of you walk back to the motel and you pause, stopping right outside the door. You turn to Dean and start pleading with him to just drive you somewhere to go for the night and that you could really do this and not get caught. He stops you and just sighs.

“Look, I really wish I could take all of us away from this, kid. It’s just not that easy.” You look down in complete defeat and Dean pulls you into a tight hug and whispers “I really do. I swear to God we will leave someday, I promise.”

You and Dean quietly sneak back into the motel, John and Sam exactly how you left them. You both get back into bed, Dean giving one last smile before closing his eyes. Maybe one day he’ll follow that promise.

#supernatural #spn #fanfic #writeblr #dean winchester #dean winchester x little sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester #john winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #supernatural fic

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winniewritesstories · 2 months ago

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Shifter | The (Mis)Adventures iii

Summary - Meg's father picks her up from school. Or does he? Set between 1x16 (Shadow) and 1x20 (Dead Man's Blood).

Pairings/characters - Meg Winchester (OC), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer (mentioned).

Dean Winchester x little sister, Sam Winchester x little sister, John Winchester x daughter

Warnings - some violence, swearing, John Winchester's A+ parenting

Language - English (British)

Word Count - 9,910 (I got a bit carried away...)

Notes - This is set between 1x16 and 1x20, with some canon divergence. Not proof read lmao

Credits - gif via @lower-the-volume

The Winchester's were settled - as settled as they ever were - in a small, nondescript town in the mid west, the same as hundreds of other towns they had stayed in or passed through over the years. Meg was even enrolled in elementary school.

After their father had finally turned up - and abruptly left again - Meg had felt uneasy, and the boys had too, though they wouldn't admit it, so they decided that sticking to one town for a while could be good for all of them.

Meg hadn't really been to school before. She was home-schooled, sort of, by her brothers and occasionally Uncle Bobby. They didn't follow a curriculum or do tests, but they spent a few hours each day going over all different subjects - numbers, reading, history, science - and Meg frequently had her head in a book. She hadn't expected to like school. While she most definitely did not like being separated from her brothers all day, she enjoyed the classroom and the playground, hanging out with kids her own age, using the multitude of crayons and pens and craft supplies, playing with footballs and bicycles.

What she had never imagined was that her father would pick her up from school. Mrs P. - that's what everyone called her - waved Meg over to the school gate where John Winchester stood waiting. Meg's eyes were wide as saucers when she saw him, half excitement, half trepidation.

"Daddy!" she cried nonetheless, throwing her small arms around him in a hug. He swung her off the ground and sat her on his hip, giving her hair an affectionate pat. "Bye Mrs P.!" Meg called as John walked towards the car. It was different from his truck, not as big or shiny. Maybe the truck was broken and Dean was fixing it. He was good like that. That must be why Dean wasn't here.

John opened the passenger side door and placed Meg on the seat. No car seat! "Dean says little kids have to have a car seat, Daddy," Meg said. John gave her a conspiratorial smile.

"I thought you were a big girl now?" he replied, switching on the ignition. Meg beamed.

"I am, Daddy. But Dean doesn't listen." she replied, fiddling with the various buttons. John pulled away from the school just as she found the radio.

________

Dean locked the Impala and meandered through a crowd of children and soccer moms to the school gate. Meg was usually waiting for him, stood patiently next to her teacher. She enjoyed school, but he had to admit it made him a little warm and fuzzy inside to know she missed him.

Today, however, Meg wasn't stood by the gate. Mrs P., the third grade teacher, was talking to a small group of moms, their children playing with each other nearby. Dean scanned the playground quickly, a small frown on his face, looking for two brown pigtails and dungarees. The playground was emptying now, children trailing out of the gate onto buses and into minivans, so it should've been easy to see her.

Dean caught Mrs P.'s eye, beckoning her over with a nod of his head.

"Hey, where's Meg?" he asked, cutting right to the point.

"Oh! Her father picked her up today." Mrs P. said with a smile. Dean's stomach dropped, twisting anxiously.

"What?" he asked, momentarily dumbfounded. "I mean... our father's out of state on business."

"Oh, well... he signed in at the front desk. Showed his ID and everything. John Winchester, Kansas, right?" Mrs P. asked, looking confused but not exactly concerned.

Dean, on the other hand, was extremely concerned. Dad wouldn't just show up and take Meg out of school, not without telling him, and he certainly wouldn't show his actual ID.

"He... he's not here." Dean said, through gritted teeth. "So who has my sister?" Dean tried his best to remain calm, not to let panic and fear overwhelm him.

"I can assure you, Dean, he is here. Reception checked his ID against our records."

"He isn't even listed as an authorised adult to pick her up!" he said, voice rising. "Sam and I filled in those damn forms ourselves. How the hell could you let an eight year old wonder out of school with a stranger?"

"Not a stranger, her father." Mrs P. replied, an edge to her voice. "You are more than welcome to check with the front desk if you have any concerns, but we do our due diligence before letting the children leave."

Dean's jaw was set as he turned on his heel, stalking back towards his car. He flipped his phone out, dialling his father's number. He wasn't expecting an answer, and indeed, John did not pick up. He tried Sam instead, hitting the gas and pulling away from the school.

"Sam, is Meg with you?" Dean asked, voice sharp.

"What?" Sam's voice crackled through the phone. "Of course not. You're picking her up."

"She's not here. They said... the teacher said Dad picked her up."

"Dad? Our dad?" Sam asked. "He's not even in the state is he? Why would he just show up and pick Meg up from school?"

"I don't know!" Dean shouted down the phone, no longer able to suppress the panic. "I mean - he wouldn't. You heard him the other week, he thinks it's too dangerous for us to be together anyway. No way he'd just show up unannounced and take Meg."

"What do we do, Dean?" Sam asked, urgency and fear in his voice.

"I'm on my way back to you. I've tried Dad but can't get him, you keep calling, texting, anything." With that, Dean hung up, speeding back towards the motel. He tried his dad again as he pulled in to the space outside their room.

"Dad?" he asked, shocked to the core he even picked up.

"Dean," his father's voice was flat, unimpressed. "I told you-"

"Have you got Meg?" Dean cut him off. They didn't have time for a lecture.

"What? Why would I have Meg?"

"The school said you picked her up. Showed your ID to reception. Is she with you?"

"No, Dean, of course she's not with me. Who the fuck has her? Why would they let her leave with a random-"

"I don't know! I don't know, Dad. But she - she's not here. She wasn't at school, she's not - fuck!" Dean cried down the phone, the fear now all-consuming. "What state are you in?"

"Just left Texas. Text me your address, I'm on my way." John replied, voice icy cold and tense. Then he hung up, without waiting for a reply.

Dean slammed the door of the motel room shut behind him.

"Dad's in Texas," he said by way of greeting to Sam, who had been pacing the motel room, cellphone in hand. Sam stopped pacing, face pale.

"Then... then who..?"

"I don't know," Dean snapped harshly. "I don't - fuck. How could I let this happen?"

"Dean, this isn't... you couldn't have known this would happen. I called Bobby, he's on his way. Figure... figured we'd need all the help we could get." Sam said, trying to comfort his brother, who felt everything, everywhere was his fault.

"Dad is too. Says he just left Texas."

"Dad's coming?" Sam asked, unable or not bothered enough to hide the surprise in his voice.

"Yes, Sam, of course he's coming. His daughter is m-" Dean couldn't even say the word. Missing. His jaw was tense, breathing heavy. "He'll be here."

"So, what could've taken her? A shifter, maybe, if it looked like dad?" Sam questioned, reverting into problem-solving mode. "But then, what the hell would a shifter want with Meg? Or dad, for that matter?"

"I don't know, Sam," Dean said. God, how many times had he said those words this last hour? So many unknowns - who had her? Was she hurt? Or worse, was she -

No. Dean couldn't go there. If he started thinking like that, starting spiralling and letting the fear control him, they might never get her back.

"Does the school have cameras?" Sam asked, opening his laptop. "We could look for camera flares." Dean nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath.

This was a hunt. A case. He could do that. Work the case, find the monster, save the kid. It's what he does. What he's been doing most of his life. It's just a case.

________

It didn't take Meg long to figure out something was... wrong with her father. As if showing up to her school hadn't been strange enough, they then drove out of town, opposite direction to the motel the Winchester's had been staying in.

"Where are Sam and Dean?" Meg piped up from the passenger seat. Dad hadn't even prompted her to put a seat belt on, but she'd done it anyway. Otherwise Dean would just lecture her.

"They're... they'll meet us there." John replied, eyes fixed on the road.

"Where?" Meg asked.

John's jaw tensed. Meg was used to that. She asked a lot of questions, and Dad rarely answered. Usually snapped at her to be quiet. Dean explained things, as best he could, in a way that she could understand, a way that wouldn't scare her too much. "Never mind where," John replied, as his cell began to ring. He flipped it open, eyes darting between the road and the screen. "Yeah? I've got her. Was almost too easy."

Meg listened to half the conversation, nervousness twisting in her belly. What did that mean? The voice on the end of the phone didn't sound like Sam or Dean, so who was he talking to?

Meg pressed herself closer to the door, trying to put some distance between herself and the person who looked like her father. She wanted her brothers.

John smirked into the phone. "Oh, they'll take the bait alright. She's a pretty little thing. They won't leave her behind."

Meg trembled in her seat. That didn't sound right. None of it felt right. The man looked like her father, had his voice, but... he wasn't. Something in the way he held himself, his manner of speaking. She realised with a jolt of dread and panic that this was not her father, no matter what her eyes were telling her.

She really, really wanted her brothers now.

________

Two days. It had been two days since Meg had been taken. Dean hadn't slept a wink, a combination of coffee, adrenaline, and fear keeping him up.

They had accessed the schools cameras, and indeed, it was a shifter, the eyes of not-John Winchester flaring silvery-grey. They'd even got the license plate of the car he was driving, but it was stolen a few states over and didn't lead anywhere solid. Bobby had arrived a few hours after Sam called him, helping the boys poke around the town, searching out spots where a shifter might lay low, to no avail. Further research turned up shifter-sounding cases in nearby towns, which Bobby had gone to check out, see if he could pick up a trail or find any clues.

Sam and Dean stayed in the town in case Meg showed up, following any lead they could. They expected something - a ransom call, negotiation, anything - and the lack of communication made Dean even more uneasy.

Sam had suggested calling the police, reporting her as a missing person, but Dean thought that would only make things worse. Especially if they saw the footage of John Winchester walking out the school gates with Meg on his hip. Last thing they needed was a manhunt for their father.

Dean hated the waiting. The research. They'd checked every warehouse, sewer, abandoned building in the town, twice, but it didn't feel like enough. None of it did. They were waiting on a call from Dad or Bobby, or one of their contacts to get back to them. Sam had rung the sheriff's office, security companies, anything he could think of, to see if any break ins or suspicious activity had been reported. Nothing.

All he could think of was how scared she must be. He had no idea what kind of conditions they were keeping her in - was she tied up? Was she being fed? - but the thought of a monster with their father's face holding her hostage somewhere.... Dean would never forgive himself for this. It was his job, to take care of his siblings. God, he should never have put her in school, never let her out of his sight for so long.

A harsh rap at the door startled Dean from his thoughts. He and Sam looked at each other briefly, before Dean unlocked it and opened it, revealing John Winchester.

He pushed into the room, not greeting either of his sons, slinging a duffel onto the floor. He headed for the fridge.

"What the hell happened?" he shouts, turning to face the boys, uncapping a bottle of beer. "You were supposed to look after her." Dean looked at the floor, unable to meet his father's eyes.

"I... I went to pick her up from school, and they said... they said that you had already collected her, said you showed your ID and everything, an-"

"Why the hell was she in school, Dean? You know how dangerous is can be-"

"It's just school, Dad!" Sam fired back. "We just wanted her to be a normal kid, for once in her life, school isn't supposed to be dangerous, or weird - it's where she should've been all along!"

"Oh, no, don't you lecture me about school, boy!" John shouted, old tensions and arguments coming to the surface. Dean was suffocating. "You can-"

"Alright, enough! Both of you!" Dean yelled, standing between them. "We don't have time for this, Meg needs us, so stow the crap, get over yourselves, and start thinking. Meg is relying on us." His voice trembled slightly over the last sentence. Dean had one priority right now. He had tunnel vision, focused only on the little girl who needed him to find her. The Winchester men stood silently for a tense moment, each wound like coiled springs. Dean took a steadying breath, trying to remain calm, collected. He turned to his father. "It’s a shifter. We went back and checked the camera’s outside the school, and the eyes flared. We encountered one a few months back in St. Louis." He began calmly. "Bobby is-"

"You called Bobby?" John snapped. Granted, the two men weren’t on good terms - Bobby had nearly pumped John full of buck shot last they’d seen each other - but the old man, grumpy as he could be, cared for Meg deeply.

"Yes, we called Bobby. He was closer than you, and we need all the help we can get." Dean said tightly. "I don’t care what you think of the man, he loves her, and he’s doing whatever he can to help." John clenched his jaw but didn’t say anything. Dean took it as permission to continue. "Bobby’s checking out potential shifter activity in nearby towns. There’ve been reports of strange behaviour, people in two places at once, that kinda thing. Sam and I stayed in town in case…. In case she came back. Showed up. We’ve been scouting places shifters like to hide out." John nodded. Dean could see his brain working, forming potential plans, dismissing the ones that wouldn’t work, recalling everything he could about shifters.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath and putting his bottle on the table. “That’s good. That's - it's a solid start. You got a map of this place?" Sam turned tightly, pulling out the map of the town they had found. It was covered in black and red marker, places circled and crossed out, anywhere the shifters could be keeping Meg. John leaned down, looking over the town, at the places Sam and Dean had already searched. "You checked this place?" he asked, pointing to what looked like a factory on the edge of the town.

"No, not yet." Dean said softly. Sam pulled out his computer, looking up the site.

"Okay... so it seems like it was abandoned a few years ago. An old steel mill. Seems pretty remote, could be worth searching it." Sam said, tapping away at the keyboard. "There's another empty factory, a processing plant, about... two miles further up. We could check 'em both?" John nodded stiffly.

"I'll take one, you two take the others. Where's the silver?"

"Dad, we'll be safer if we stick together. Splitting up-" Sam began

"We can cover more ground if we separate. It'll be quicker that way." John replied, his tone not leaving room for argument. But Sam pressed on.

"We have no idea how many there could be! You can't go on your own, Dad, it's-"

"Dammit, Sam, do as you're told!" John shouted, eyes blazing.

"We aren't kids anymore, Dad, you can't just give out orders like some goddamn drill sergeant!" Sam yelled back. Dean rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth.

"For the love of God!" Dean shouted, stunning Sam and John into silence. He was breathing heavily. "Dad, you take the processing plant, Sam and me will check the steel mill. We'll split up if only so I don't have to listen to you two arguing. Meg is out there, alone, terrified, and you two can't grow up and get over yourselves for five goddamn minutes! Pull yourselves together!" Dean didn't raise his voice at his father often - scratch that, ever. But he was sick with worry and needed to find his little girl, and the arguing wasn't helping. He reached for the weapons duffle. "We got silver bullets and knives in here." He said, quieter now, loading the clip of his gun with silver bullets and tucking a blade into his belt. Sam and John readied their own weapons, the room heavy with a tense silence.

They left the motel rooms, driving to the abandoned industrial estate in their separate vehicles. The Impala turned off at the steel mill, John's truck carrying on to the processing plant. As Dean looked up at the factory, his stomach twisted, praying she'd be in there, that she was safe.

"Ready?" Sam asked, checking the magazine on his gun again and pulling out a flash light. Dean swallowed, nodding, as they headed into the mill.

________

Meg's body trembled, a combination of fear and cold. They'd arrived at some old factory or warehouse a while ago, not-John dragging her in by the rope he had tied around her wrists. He had put in her in a cage, slightly bigger than a dog crate, finally releasing her bruised wrists. She could stand up, but barely, and there was a bucket in the corner. She had a thread-bare blanket wrapped around her shoulders, though it did little to stave off the biting chill.

There were three men now, the man who wasn't her father, and two shorter, mousey looking men. Mostly they left her alone, drinking beer and playing cards. Sometimes the phone rang, and the took orders from someone - Meg assumed it was their boss, because they twitched every time it rang.

Meg had never known hunger or fear or cold like she did now. She kept hoping, praying, begging Sam and Dean to find her, believing in her brother's to rescue her. But every hour that passed made her worry more and more that they'd never find her, that she was stuck here forever with these monsters.

It was not-John who scared her the most. It was her father, but it wasn't. His face sometimes curled into this sickening smile, so un-Dad-like, and his laugh, which she rarely heard, was cruel and callous. His green eyes raked over her like she was a piece of meat; his entire demeanour made her skin crawl.

She realised she was crying again, tears snaking down her cheeks. She was surprised she had the energy left to cry. Meg licked at the tears as the trickled down her cheeks, the moisture - though salty - a small relief on her dry tongue. As her stomach growled at her in hunger, she wondered if she was going to die.

________

Dean kicked over an old barrel outside the steel mill, frustration and panic building to new heights.

"Dean," Sam said softly. "We'll find her. She'll be alright."

"Will we, Sam? Because we are running outta places to search in this godforsaken town, and anything could be happening to her right now." He snapped, fists clenched at his sides. Sam sighed, swallowing. Dean was right; they were running out of locations in the town where a shifter could keep a young girl. But he set his jaw, taking a deep breath.

"We're gonna find her," he said, with more conviction than he felt. Dean looked at him with uncertainty, but his phone rang before he could reply.

"Dad?" he asked, hope flickering to life in his stomach.

"She ain't here," John said gruffly over the phone. "But I got someone. Think he's working for the shifters."

"Stay put, we're on our way." Dean replied, snapping his phone shut. Sam looked at him questioningly.

Dean put his foot to the floor as they sped toward the processing plant, filling Sam in on the way. The Impala screeched to a stop next to John's truck, engine barely off before he was out the car and racing inside.

John had the guy tied to a chair in the middle of the abandoned factory. He'd tested him extensively; silver, holy water, salt. He was human.

"This him?" Dean asked, voice low and rough. John nodded.

"Yeah. Found evidence that a shifter was here, reckon this one knows something." John replied, keeping his voice even.

"Evidence? You find any evidence Meg was here?" Sam asked, hope lacing his voice.

"No," John admitted quietly. "But a shifter definitely shed its skin here. Whole mess of skin and crap back there." He jerked his head toward a back room, the walls painted with blood and gunk. God, he hated shifters.

Beside them, Dean's hands clenched and unclenched into fists, his breathing ragged and uneven. He approached the man, who at least had the decency to look ashamed and afraid.

"Where is she?" Dean asked, voice low with a barely contained rage.

"Don't know what you're talking 'bout." the man said, though he avoided Dean's gaze. Dean hit him, the man's nose breaking with a crunch as Dean's fist connected. The man let out a shout, blood beginning to drip from his nose. John and Sam were by Dean's side in an instant, Sam's hand on Dean's arm.

"I said where is she?" Dean repeated, eyes simmering. He didn't have time to lose. The man spit blood onto the floor by Dean's feet.

"Fuck you," he snarled. So Dean hit him again. This time Sam pulled him away, forcing him to take several steps back.

"Dean, stop. Stop it. He's human." Sam said.

"And?" Dean asked, eyes still firmly fixed on the target. Sam was taken aback by Dean's callousness, the unnerving look in his eyes.

"I know you've been working with shifters. Where'd they go?" John asked calmly, pacing in front of the man.

"I already said, I don't know what you're on about." the man repeated, blood coating his teeth and dripping down his jaw. Dean tried to step toward him but Sam blocked him, hands on his shoulders.

"Listen, Steve. It is Steve, isn't it?" John asked in that same, even tone. He didn't wait for a reply. "We can do this two ways. Either tell us who you've been working for, and where they went. Or I'll let my boy here beat it out of you." The man gulped. Dean liked the sound of the second option.

"I'm just a caretaker. Ain't seen nobody round these parts for years," Steve replied, avoiding eye contact with any of the Winchester's. John sighed, but Dean didn't wait for permission.

He launched himself at Steve, punching him so hard the chair fell backwards. Dean knelt on top of the man, gripping the collar of his shirt.

"You tell me where the hell they went right now, or so help me God." he snarled, twisting the shirt in his hands.

"God?" Steve asked, smiling. "What's God gonna do to those monsters?"

Dean hit him again, and again, breaking the chair Steve had been tied to. He dragged the man to his feet, throwing him against a nearby wall.

"My little girl is out there! You tell me what you know, or you can ask God himself what he does to monsters!" Dean shouted, forearm pressed to Steve's throat.

Behind them, Sam and John watched in silence. Sam looked briefly to John, wondering if they should stop Dean. John let the scene unfold. He'd never seen Dean so angry - so afraid. Something in John twisted when Dean called Meg his little girl. Guilt? Anger? Shame? All of them, he supposed.

And Dean was right. Meg was more his little girl than she ever was John's.

There was a pregnant pause, a brief moment of tension.

"There's a shipping yard, 'bout forty miles from here. That's where they were headed." Steve said quietly, the words slightly muffled by his split lip. Dean let the man go, turning on his heel and stalking toward the Impala.

"What do we do with this guy?" Sam asked, looking at Steve, who was slumped against the wall, a hand pressed to his face.

"Leave him," John said, picking up his weapons. "He ain't worth any more of our time."

Outside the processing plant, Dean was already in the Impala, engine revving.

"I'll follow you." John said as Sam slid in to the passenger seat. Dean nodded at his father, and the second Sam's door closed, the Impala's tyres screeching as they took off toward to the shipping yard.

________

Meg's eyes fluttered open, blinking in the dimness of the room. She'd drifted off again, despite her efforts to stay awake. She didn't know what might happen to her if she slept.

Not-John had left a little while ago, leaving the other two men to guard her. The watched her with their beady eyes, shifting in their seats, their card game abandoned. The phone, which sat on the table between them, hadn't buzzed in several hours, and it made them nervous.

Meg stayed huddled in her corner, rocking slowly in an attempt to comfort herself. She hummed Hey, Jude, the song that Dean would sing when she had a nightmare or couldn't fall asleep. It was a little comforting, but it made her miss Dean even more. She wanted him to sing it to her, to hold her close and rock her gently, snuggled against him in the Impala or a rickety motel bed. She wanted to hear Sam typing away in the corner or the sound of the Impala's engine. She wanted her brothers.

She was crying again, wondering if she'd ever see them again, every hear Dean's terrible jokes or Sam's laugh. God, at this point, she even missed her dad, the small, soft smiles he reserved for her, the way he let her sit on his shoulders, the fact she could play any music she liked in his truck.

But the thought of her father was slightly tainted now, the memories of him combining with the sinister looks of the shifter, the way it had taken her and locked her up.

Distantly, there was a clang, metal hitting metal. Meg froze, ceasing the rocking and humming, her body stiff with fear. Was not-John back? Or worse, was it the leader, the one who phoned every few hours? The one who seemed to scare even her captors.

She pressed herself as far back as she could, sharp metal bars pressing into her back, the blanket wrapped tight around her as if it could shield her. Then there was a distant shout, and her two captors stood, reaching for their knives. Meg was paralysed with fear, her whole body shaking as she tried to stay quiet, stay hidden.

The door was kicked open, and Meg whimpered as a fight broke out, the shifters launching themselves toward the door. There were shouts, the sound of metal on metal, and a gun shot. Meg screamed, the sound reverberating around the small room.

Then the cage door was rattling as someone tried to open it, and Meg pressed her hands over her ears, eyes squeezed shut. Please, please, please, she whispered to herself. I don't want to die.

Someone's hands were on her and she screamed again, thrashing her arms and scrabbling backward, although there was nowhere else to go. Distantly, she could hear someone saying her name, calling her.

"Meg. Megsie, it's me, look at me. It's Sam." he repeated, trying to reach her, to soother her. She was trembling, eyes shut and hands over her ears, pressed against the back of the cage.

She opened her eyes, looking up at Sam. Sam.

Or was it? Not-John had looked like her dad, and then she ended up here. Maybe she wasn't safe after all.

"Get back!" she cried, putting her hands out in front of her to protect herself.

"Meg, baby, it's me, it's Sam." he said again, reaching out slowly, but she screamed once more and he pulled his hand back. Behind him, a body thudded to the floor, but Sam couldn't take his eyes off her. Her cheeks were sunken in, dark bags beneath her eyes. She was shaking like a leaf, so scared - of him.

"Go away! You're not him!" she shouted, pressing her eyes shut again, sobbing softly.

Dean knelt next to Sam, his heart breaking at the sight of his little girl, so exhausted and afraid.

"Megs," he called softly, unable to hide the desperation in his voice. "Meg, it's us. Look at me, it's us." She whimpered, opening her eyes, crying softly as she saw him. She wanted so desperately to believe him. It looked like Dean, it sounded like Dean... but so did the one with her father's face, the one who had taken her.

She shuddered, shaking her head. "You're monsters," she whispered. Dean's heart broke.

"No, sweetheart. It's us. Meg, Goose, please - it's me." Dean pleaded with her, worry etched into every line on his face, voice desperate. He reached a tentative hand out for her.

"Go away! Get back, you're not him!" She cried, shrinking back into the corner. Dean was beginning to panic now, desperate to hold her, make sure she was okay, but she was afraid of him. Of him.

"Hey," Sam said softly, taking the silver blade from his pocket. "Remember the St. Louis shifter? Remember how silver burned them?"

Meg's eyes were wide, locked on to the blade, but she nodded. She remembered St. Louis, the shifter who had taken Dean's form. Sam pressed the silver blade against his hand. It didn't burn. Then he did the same to Dean, and again, the silver didn't burn his skin.

It was them. They found her.

"Sammy?" she whispered. "Dean?"

"Yeah, baby girl, it's us. It's us." Dean said softly, heart in his throat. They watched her with wide, cautious eyes as she looked between them, still trembling. She looked to Dean, his piercing green eyes glistening with fear and love and hope, then to Sam, whose wide puppy-eyed stare so often matched her own.

Her brothers. Her boys. They found her.

"De," she cried launching herself forward and into their arms. Dean gripped hold of her, pulling her firmly into his lap and cradling her close. Sam wrapped his arms around the pair of them, needing to hold his little sister close, desperate to keep her safe. Dean murmured softly against her hair, holding her so tightly and never intending to let go. She sobbed into her brother, face tucked tightly into his neck. Sam pressed a soft kiss to her head, a stray tear or two falling, his hand warm and steady on her back. She was safe.

Sam pulled away first, trying to assess Meg's body for injuries. She was scrawnier, her spine visible beneath the thin t-shirt. Her hair was matted, limbs dirty, but there were no obvious injuries, no blood. A small relief. He tried to coax her from Dean's neck, to check her face and neck for wounds, to ask if she was hurt, if she was okay, but she wouldn't move. Wouldn't, or perhaps couldn't, too afraid to let him go ever again. And, from the look on Dean's face, the few tears he discreetly wiped away, Dean wouldn't be letting her go ever again, either.

Behind the trio, the door opened, and John walked in. His shoulders sagged in relief when he saw Meg, cradled safely in her brothers arms. But she stiffened and turned at the sound, and when she saw him her face twisted in panic.

"No!" Meg cried, trying to scramble away from him, the man with her father's face. He was back. "Go away!"

"Meg - hey, no, it's him, it's Dad," Dean said gently, holding her arms so she couldn't run. "It's okay. The shifter's dead. It's really Dad." But his words had no effect. All Meg could see was the man who'd taken her. She was shaking again, eyes wide with fear, fresh tears falling down her face.

"No, no, please," she begged. Sam took the silver blade, walking quickly over to John, whose face betrayed the pain of seeing his daughter fear him.

"Meg, hey - look. No burn, see?" he said, pressing the blade to John's skin. "He's human. Not a shifter." Sam reassured her, pocketing the blade and coming back to crouch next to her. She regarded John warily, pressing herself close to Dean, who had his arm securely around her waist.

"Hey, princess." John said softly, kneeling a few feet away so as not to scare her. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." John didn't really know what he was apologising for. For the shifter taking his face? Or for not being there for her in the first place? He gave her a small, soft smile, trying to offer her some reassurance, some proof it was really him.

Meg sniffled, still pressed firmly against Dean, eyes flickering nervously over her father's face. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, turning to Dean with fresh tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, clutching Dean's hand in her own. "I'm sorry I left school without you, without checking, I- I thought that - that..." She hiccuped as Dean shushed her gently.

"Hey, no, it's not your fault, Meg. It's okay - you thought it was Dad, you couldn't have known. It's okay, sweetheart. Don't apologise." Dean said, cupping her cheek with his free hand and wiping away some stray tears. Seeing her like this, apologising for it... God, it broke his heart.

"C'mon," Sam said, standing and holding out a hand. "Let's get out of here. Get you to a hospital." Meg swallowed, wide eyes flicking between her family.

"No hospital," she whispered, voice hoarse. "Please." Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean ran his eyes over her body, no clear wounds or serious concerns evident, but God knows he'd feel better having her checked out properly. But how would they explain this to a doctor? To the CPS? He held her hands gently.

"We'll take you to the motel, check you over there. But if Sammy or I find anything that needs medical attention, we're taking you straight to a doctor. Capiche?" Dean said softly, toeing the line between doing what was best for her and not traumatising her further.

"Capiche." She echoed. When Dean stood up, she held out her arms, unwilling or perhaps unable to walk. Dean scooped her up wordlessly, glad to be able to hold her close still, and the trio headed for the door.

John hung back, unsure if he should go with them, not wanting to frighten his daughter more. He settled for trailing after them at a distance, close enough to still hear the soft, reassuring words Dean was murmuring to Meg, but far enough that Meg didn't feel threatened. Her green eyes still flicked over to him every few seconds, wary and distrusting, and it broke his heart.

Meg didn't let go of her brother, even when they got to the car. Her legs were wrapped firmly around his waist, arms around his neck, fingers gripping the collar of his leather jacket tightly. When Dean opened the rear door to the Impala, she whimpered, pressing her face into Dean's neck.

"Okay, it's alright," he said softly. "We'll sit up front, okay? Sammy can drive. You wanna pick some music?"

John watched them carefully for a few more seconds, Dean lowering himself into the car and settling Meg onto his lap, Sam waiting until the were safely inside before getting in himself. John nodded to Sam, a silent meet you at the motel passing between them.

In the Impala, Dean put the heat on full blast, while Meg opened the glovebox and found the Beatles cassette. He smiled at her choice.

"This one?" he asked, popping it in and turning the volume up a fraction. She nodded, snuggling into him, his large leather jacket enveloping them both as Sam drove them back to the motel. The car ride was quiet, Dean humming along to the Beatles, stroking gentle, soothing circles on Meg's back absentmindedly.

They beat John to the motel, pulling in front of the door. Dean carried her in, settling on the bed with her, while Sam fetched the first aid kit and a bottle of water, which Meg gulped down quickly.

"Woah, easy tiger," Dean said, easing the bottle from her grasp. "You're gonna make yourself sick." God knows how long she'd been without water, or food, or anything. He didn't want to think about that too much. Sam took Meg's hands in his gently, rolling up the sleeves. There were red marks on each wrist, bruises purpling underneath.

"Did... did they tie you up?" Sam asked quietly. Meg's lip quivered as she nodded.

"At the first place. Then they... they took me to the place with the cage." She whimpered, breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Dean squeezed her reassuringly. "I... I really thought it was him."

"I know you did, Scout. I know." Sam said, wiping her wrists with antiseptic for good measure. "Can you stand up for me?"

Meg did, legs shaking, Dean holding her arms for support - physical and emotional. Sam checked her over, feeling for broken bones, cuts, anything. Mercifully, she was okay save the bruised wrists. Sure, she'd lost some weight, was exhausted and dirty, but physically, at least, she was unhurt. Mentally, on the other hand... Sam and Dean knew it would take her some time to understand what happened, to process the trauma.

"You're okay," Sam said, reassuring Meg, himself, and Dean. "Would you like a bath, hm? Get you warmed up and clean?" Meg whimpered, shaking her head and pressing herself back against Dean. He squeezed her arms reassuringly.

"It's okay. We'll stay with you, alright? We won't leave you on your own." He murmured. Just then the motel door opened slowly, John lingering in the doorway. Meg tensed up as she saw him, pressing herself further into Dean's embrace, eyes wide and wary.

"Hey, sweetheart," John said softly, taking a few cautious steps into the room so he could close the door. "I figured you'd be hungry so I picked up some food. Pancakes sound good?" He held up a bag of food, its warm, enticing scent wafting across the small space.

Meg turned in Dean's arms, pressing her face into his neck, body trembling. Dean swallowed, holding her close, glancing at John with a pained, almost guilty expression. John was hurt, face falling as she turned away from him.

"It's okay, sunshine," Dean said reassuringly. "It's Dad. I promise you, it's really him."

"Wanna take a bath," Meg said into Dean's neck. He looked up at Sam, then John.

"Okay, sweetie. We'll get you bathed. Then you put on your pyjama's and we'll eat, yeah?" Dean spoke softly, as if speaking to a frightened animal that might bolt at any second. Meg nodded, pulling herself back from his arms slightly.

Sam grabbed her duffle, rummaging around for some pyjama's, the soft, fluffy ones she liked, draping them over the heater so they'd be warm for her. Dean picked her up carefully, sitting with her on the closed toilet seat while he ran a hot bath. John stayed, frozen, just inside the door, unsure what he should do, unable to take his eyes off the little girl who feared him now.

"Dad," Sam calls quietly. "It'll be okay. She'll come round. She just... she just needs a minute." John swallowed thickly, nodding. His eyes burned with tears he refused to let fall. God, what was he doing to his children? Sam clapped him on the shoulder, heading to the bathroom to be with Dean and Meg.

After a warm bath, the grime scrubbed from her body and her hair freshly washed, Meg pulled on the pyjama's Sam had set out for her, toasty warm from the heater. She held up a hairbrush wordlessly, silently asking one of her brother's to comb through the tangles. Sam took it, gently brushing through her damp hair, while Dean tidied the bathroom.

In the main room of the motel, John sat at the small table, bag of food in the middle, a beer in his hand. Meg stood in the doorway of the bathroom, eying him suspiciously, her toes curling anxiously into the carpet. When he noticed her, he gave her a soft smile, eyes kind.

It was her father, Meg realised suddenly. The shifter had never looked at her like that, its eyes had never been so gentle, never held anything except malice. She returned the smile with a small, hesitant one of her own, making her way slowly to the table.

"What kinda pancakes did ya get?" She asked softly.

"Chocolate chip, of course," John replied, pushing the bag towards the edge of the table. She gave him a bigger smile then, flashing the gap in her front teeth, taking another few steps towards him. He'd remembered her favourite food. Still, she waited for Sam to join them before she sat down, climbing into his lap.

He put his arm around her waist, holding her firmly on his knees so she wouldn't fall, as she began eating her pancakes, dribbling syrup down her chin. Sam ran his ringers through her unruly curls, slowing springing back to life as they dried. Dean joined them a minute later, relieved to see she was eating something, and that wasn't trembling in the presence of their father. Sam looked up at him, brows furrowed, taking in Dean's disheveled appearance and red-rimmed eyes. Dean avoided eye contact at all costs, instead pulling up a seat next to them. John handed him a beer wordlessly as they exchanged looks.

They still had questions, still needed to figure out why the shifter had taken Meg in the first place. They watched her eat a moment longer as she shoved forkful after forkful into her mouth, clearly starving. Dean wiped her sticky chin with a napkin, smiling softly down at her.

"Don't eat too fast, Goose." he said. He looked at his father again, who nodded. "Megs... do you know why the shifter took you?"

She froze, fork halfway to her mouth, eyes going wide. Her hands trembled slightly as she set the cutlery down, folding her hands in her lap. She shook her head slowly.

"They didn't say why, but... but I think they wanted you guys to come." She began softly, twisting her fingers anxiously. "They said... it said you'd take the bait." Dean reached out a hand, holding her small ones in his own, trying to soothe her. She looked up at him, wide green eyes brimming with tears again. "I'm sorry I went with him - it. I'm sorry I left school, I-"

"Hey, hey, shh. Stop apologising, sweetheart. It's not your fault." Dean said softly, one hand on her face to wipe away the tears. "It's not. You thought it was Dad, you had no reason to think otherwise." He repeated his words from earlier. He didn't want her to distrust her father, their family. It wasn't like they could have the 'don't talk to strangers' lecture; she knew that, it had been ingrained in her for as long as she could remember.

"Meg," John spoked up next to then. Her eyes flickered over to him, momentarily betraying the fear she still held for her father's visage. "Were they all shifters? Or were any of them demons? Did you smell sulphur at all?"

"I think they were shifters. I don't know what sulphur smells like, but I don't think so." Meg said quietly.

"Rotten eggs. Sulphur smells like eggs." John prompted, but Meg shook her head again. "Did they mention demons at all, any demon?"

"Dad." Sam said, voice low in warning.

"I don't think so. There was... they spoke to someone on the phone a lot. But I don't know who."

"The demon? Did they use a name at all? Or a location?" John pressed further.

"Dad." Sam repeated, more forcefully. John glared at him momentarily. Meg gulped at the sight, the warmth in his eyes earlier - the look that had reminded her this was, in fact, her father - was gone, replaced with a cool anger.

"I don't - I don't know, Dad. I'm sorry, they didn't say anything about demons, I don't think. I'm sorry." Meg whispered tearfully, avoiding John's piercing gaze. Dean stroked his thumb over her shaking hands softly.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Don't apologise." Dean reassured her.

"Anything, Meg. Anything you can think of will help us." John said again, not seeing or perhaps not caring that his daughter was growing increasingly agitated.

"Enough." Dean snapped, only half turning his head to look at his father. He turned back to Meg, his gaze softening. "It's okay if you don't know anything. Don't worry about it now, you're safe." Meg nodded, looking down at her feet, swinging a foot off the floor. "Why don't you finish eating, hm? Then we can watch cartoons." She gave him a small smile, turning to her plate, but she didn't eat anymore, just pushed pieces of pancake around the plate.

"I need some air." John muttered, standing so abruptly that Meg flinched. He looked down, eyes betraying his guilt, but didn't say anything and left the room. Dean's jaw was set as he stood - slower than John did - and followed after him.

"Dad," Dean said, closing the motel room door softly so he wouldn't startle Meg. "You can't interrogate her like that. Not after what she's just been through."

"This is the demon's work, Dean. It knows I'm closing in on it." John snaps.

"Maybe so. But your daughter just got kidnapped by a bunch of shifters. Anything could have happened to her! And you want to question her? To- to find the demon?" Dean snaps back, trying to control his temper. He loved his father, he did, but sometimes his priorities were all wrong. Dean - his top priorities always have been, and always will be, his siblings.

"We have been hunting this thing for 20 years, Dean! I am this close to catching it, to getting revenge for your mother. That's what all this is about, Dean, I'm not gonna give up now." John fires back, breathing heavily.

"No one is asking you to give up, Dad, but for once will you just try and be a parent to that little girl? Not a hunter, not a - a drill sergeant. Just a dad." Dean snaps. John swallows, looking away from his eldest son. Dean's right, he knows that; he's never been a great father, always training his children, not raising them. Still, it hurts to hear Dean say it.

"Yesterday, you - you called Meg your little girl." John started softly.

"Listen, I'm sorry about that, I-"

"No, Dean, don't apologise. You're right. Shit, you've done more for her than I ever have. You've raised her, cared for her. Everything I should have done, should be doing - you do it. And you do it well. She - she's a wonderful kid, Dean." John looked at his son, pride in his eyes. Dean nodded, a small, fond smile on his face as he thought about her. "My point is, Dean, is that you look after this family. Better than anyone, better than I ever have. I know I'm never around much, I - I don't always put you guys first. But you do. You put this family first, you put your siblings first, always. Every time." Dean nodded, understanding what his father was trying to say - thank you for everything you do, I'm proud of you, I'm sorry - without actually saying it. John clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Dean. For looking after them."

Back inside the motel, Meg was curled up on Sam's lap, trusty red checkered blanket it tow, her favourite plushie, Patch, gripped in one hand. Tom and Jerry played quietly, the lights of the TV illuminating their faces in the dim of the room.

Dean and John entered quietly, but the disruption still made Meg jump, head snapping towards the door. Sam held her closer, keeping her safe.

"Hey, princess," John said quietly, standing near the couch. "I - I gotta take off. It's not safe for any of us if I stick around too long."

"You're leaving?" Sam said in disbelief.

"Yes," John said sharply, eyes flickering back to Meg. "Your brothers are gonna take real good care of you, like always. They'll keep you safe, alright?" Meg nodded, looking up at him. John moved, as if to hug her or take her in his arms, but he settled for resting his hand against her head briefly. "I - I love you, sweetheart. I'm sorry I haven't been here."

Meg just nodded, eyes wide as she looked up at him. John nodded to each of his sons, picking his duffle off the floor. He looked at Dean once more.

"Watch out for your siblings." He said gruffly, before turning on his heel and walking out. The door shut behind him, the three siblings sitting silently for a moment. Dean looked at Meg, at the bags under her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks. He walked over to them, kneeling in front of her.

"Hey, sweet cheeks. How you feeling? You still hungry?" he asked softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. She shook her head. "Okay. Good. Why don't we get you to bed?" Her eyes flickered across the room then back to Dean.

"Will you both stay with me?" she murmured. Dean smiled, nodding.

"Yeah, we will. You want Sammy to read you a story?" She nodded eagerly, holding her arms out to Dean. He swung her onto his hip hugging her close and pressing a kiss to her head. Sam rifled through his bag, looking for The Hobbit. He'd read it to her when he came back from Stanford, and now it was her favourite.

"Can we do a Meg sandwich?" she asks, eyes hopeful. Sam and Dean share a look; the Meg sandwich, as it became known, had started when the heating had packed up in a crappy motel in Chicago in the middle of winter. The Winchester siblings, left alone by their father, had piled into one bed for warmth, two-year-old Meg snuggled between her brothers. It fast became one of her favourite things in the world, even if it wasn't the most comfortable for the boys.

Any other time, under any other circumstances, they probably would've said no. But she'd been gone nearly three days, and they'd come so close to losing her... they couldn't refuse. They didn't want to refuse, both wanting to keep her close for a while, keep her safe.

"Sure thing," Dean said, sliding into the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her. Sam sat on her other side, book in hand, opening it to the first page. Meg lay snuggled against Dean's chest, but faced Sam. He cracked the spine on the well-worn copy of the Hobbit, clearing his throat.

"Are you sitting comfortably?" he asked theatrically. Meg giggled and nodded. "Very good. Let's begin. In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole...."

Meg was asleep within three pages, using Dean's arm as a pillow, her small leg hooked over Sam's. He put the book down, moving some hair from her face, watching her sleep.

"You okay?" he asked Dean. He'd seen his brother's face earlier, his hair tousled where he ran his hands through it, his red eyes. Sam suspected it was a panic attack or something similar, though God knows Dean Winchester would never admit that.

"I'm fine," Dean said shortly, sighing as he looked down at the little girl in his arms. "I just... we came so close to losing her. So close. And I don't know what I would've done if - if-"

"I know," Sam cut him off, not wanting to dwell on that scenario. "But she's okay. She's safe now."

"We can't put her back in school. Not until this demon business is over and Dad's back. We can't take that chance."

"I agree. We'll just continue homeschooling her." Sam replied. Dean nodded. "You should get some rest too, Dean. You didn't sleep a wink the whole time she was missing." Dean shook his head stubbornly.

"Nah. I'll watch over her. She'll feel safer that way." Sam rolled his eyes at his brother.

"No, I'll watch over you both. Get some sleep, you look like crap."

"Oh, thanks, man." Dean replied sarcastically. Sam's eyes rolled again.

"You know what I mean. Get some rest." Sam studied him for a moment, wondering if he'd refuse again. But he didn't; Dean nodded, eyes still fixed on Meg's sleeping form, sliding down to be more comfortable.

Sam watched Dean's eyes flutter close, saw his breathing even out. There weren't many times Sam felt like the oldest and most responsible one. But now, watching his siblings sleep, keeping them safe, he felt the profound sense of responsibility he wondered if Dean always felt. Eventually, Sam sunk back into the pillows too, his arm over Meg's waist, until he drifted off into sleep as well.

________

The Winchester's had left the following afternoon, all three of them wanting to put distance between themselves and the town. Meg had sat in the front of the Impala, nestled between her brothers, too afraid to be alone in the back.

A week later, a new town, a different motel room, Meg woke up alone.

"Dean?" she called out. "Sammy?" She looked around warily. She didn't like being alone anymore.

The key clicked in the lock of the door not a minute later, and her brothers walked in. She scrambled out of bed, backing into the corner.

"Is it definitely you?" she called shakily, unsure if it really was them or if it was monsters wearing their faces. Sam and Dean sighed, pulling out a silver blade. This happened every time one of them left her sight for more than a few minutes. Every time Dean went for food, or Sam to the library, she panicked they'd been swapped for a shifter. They were trying to be patient, of course they were, they knew what she had been through; but it was exhausting.

They each press the blade to their skin, and Meg visibly relaxes when there is no reaction.

"Come here," Dean says, beckoning her over to the small living area. He hoists her up, sitting her on his knee. "Sammy and I had to run a quick errand. It's gonna help you, though. Okay?" She nodded earnestly, looking between her brothers, then to the paper bag in Sam's hand. "Okay. We know you're scared, that you can't tell who's a shifter and who's human. And you know that silver burns shifters, right? Right. Well, this ring," he gestures to the ring that is always on his right hand. "This is silver. And Sammy, we got him a silver bracelet." Sam pulls a silver chain from the bag, as well as a small ring. "And this here, this is for you. A silver ring. So, if you're ever not sure whether someone's human or not, you simply shake their hand. And as long as me and Sammy have our silver on, you'll always know it's really us. Sound good?"

Meg nodded slowly, watching as Sam put his chain on, letting Dean wiggle the ring onto her finger. She fiddled with it, spinning it round, getting used to the feel of it. She leant her head back against Dean's shoulder.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Her brother's had gone to all this effort just so she'd feel safe. Dean smiled at her.

"You don't have to thank us, sweetheart. We're gonna look after you. Always." Dean said softly, rubbing her arm soothingly. Sam smiled at her, too, taking her hand as she reached out for him. "We're gonna take a few days off, okay? No hunting this week. Anything you wanna do?"

Meg thought for a moment, tapping her finger on her chin. "Hmmm.... Disney World?" Sam and Dean exchanged a nervous glance.

"Maybe not Disney World... we could find a carnival or something though." Dean said. Meg sighed softly. She really wanted to go to Disney.

"Okay. Can I ride the ghost train?" she asked. "Oh, and the dodgems. And can we get cotton candy? Or popcorn! I wonder if they sell candy apples?" Meg rambled on, her mood lifting, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. Sam and Dean shared a smile, glad they could ease her worry, if only for a short while. She still didn't sleep well, waking up screaming most nights, insisting the kept a light on. She didn't like to be alone, or be too far from her brothers.

But this morning, she was excited about something. She was bouncing on Dean's knee, talking about food, mostly, but also about stuffed toys and games and fairground rides. Dean put a gentle hand on her head, trying to stop the bouncing.

"Easy, tiger." he said with a laugh. Then she asked the dreaded question.

"Can I choose the music in the car?" Dean sighed. So much for the house rules.

"Fine. Just this once." he said.

But he was lying. All three of them knew it. Meg Winchester could choose the music in the Impala whenever she damn well pleased. She was the only person in the world whom the house rules didn't apply to.

Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts their cakehole; Meg wins them both over with a gap-toothed smile and a glimmer in her eyes.

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this is very much not proofread lol

thx for reading! lmk if you'd like to join the tag list :)

@podado-t-memes @ariesandwolves

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