#little sister winchester

[1000roughdrafts]

hey! if you take requests, i’m just wondering if you’d consider a sister winchester one? maybe her at 18? i love your writing so much, and i’d really love something like a hurt reader/dying reader?? something super angsty ahaha

Oh, for sure! Angst is my favorite! (as I'm sure you can tell by the word count lol) sorry it’s taken me like 3 years to get to this 😞

A/N: this was meant to post 2/28/24 because I wanted to ease into coming back with an every other week posting schedule BUT I’m just too excited and antsy for that lol also it’s set in Season 1, Episode 1

Thank you by the way!

Title: Please Wake Up

Warnings: swearing, graphic description of injury and illness, blood angst, hurt/dying reader, depiction of medical procedures, takes place in season 1 episode 1 :)

Word Count: 5.8k

Being third born after two boys, Y/N always felt like she had big shoes to fill. Despite her best efforts to impress the man, she never really formed a bond with John. Her next role model was Dean, who became more of a father to her than John ever was or could be.

Until her eleventh birthday, Dean did her hair into pigtails every day, partly because he hadn't learned to do any other hairstyle but mostly because he thought it was the cutest on her. He'd pack her and Sam's lunch with snacks he'd bought from vending machines and even pretend to take her on hunts because he knew she wanted to be exactly like him.

When she wasn't learning about monsters and guns with Dean, she spent time with Sam. He'd help her with her homework or play board and card games. They have as much in common as Y/N and Dean. Neither Sam nor Y/N got along with John, and neither remember their mothers. 

Y/N's mother was a woman John met in Nebraska three years after the boy's mom died. The affair only lasted a night, but to his surprise, he heard from her again six months later with the news that they had a baby girl on the way. John was shocked and heartbroken. He couldn't bear the thought of bringing another child into the life of hunting.

John kept his distance, adamant that Y/N would be better off without him, and when another three months of silence went by, he figured that Y/N's mother came around to see it his way. Unfortunately, her pregnancy was complicated, as was the birth, and it turned out that having Y/N is what killed her. 

When John got the call, he had half a mind to let the state take custody of little Y/N. Indeed, they would provide her with a better life than he could. John decided to meet her at least, and when he laid eyes on her perfect little face, he couldn't bring himself to abandon her. 

Y/N was barely sixteen when Sam left for college. While she was proud of him for putting himself first, it broke her heart for him to go the way he did. She missed him more and more every day, often keeping Dean up at night with her sniffling and crying. After a while, he would get into bed next to her when the tears started and sing Hey Jude while playing with her hair to help her fall asleep. That went on for another six months before she finally started to fall asleep without crying. 

For her seventeenth birthday, Dean came across a necklace he'd wanted to get for her since Sam left. From his wallet, he took out the only picture he had of the sibling trio, representing the single moment of their life where John treated them like regular kids, and using his pocket knife, he carved around their heads and bodies to match the exact size of the locket, smiling proudly at himself when it fit perfectly. 

Now at eighteen, she stands next to the Impala while Dean lugs their bags out, drops them into the trunk, and slams it shut. He heads for the driver's door but stops when he realizes Y/N hasn't opened hers yet. Eyebrows raised, he twirls a finger in the air as if to say, 'Let's get a move on.'

"Are you ever gonna teach me how to drive, Dean?" she asks. "I mean, you've got to, you know?" 

"No, I don't. Get in," Dean says. She does so with a huff. Dean checks the mirrors before backing out of their parking spot. Turning to Y/N, he says, "Besides, as long as I'm around, you don't need to," but softens his face into a smile when he looks at her. "Cause there's no way in Hell I'll ever let you drive my car." 

Y/N lets out a soft chuckle. "It doesn't have to be this car, Dean!" She rolls the window down, letting the cool breeze hit her face. "What happens if we get separated and I'm being chased by… I don't know, something that has super speed, and my only way back to you is to steal a car and -" 

"Stop. First of all, you should know that I'd never put you in that kind of danger," Dean says, disgusted by the mere thought. He lets out a long sigh. "I'll teach you," he says, looking at her gleaming smile. He tries his damnedest to see her for the adult she's becoming, but he only sees the happy baby in pull-ups he used to feed marshmallows and jello to on a motel room floor. "Just… not yet, okay?" 

She scoffs, "Most people learn to drive when they're only fifteen. I mean, you took me to freaking Vegas with a fake ID for my birthday, for fuck's sake!" 

"I said not yet, Y/N!" he says, shooting her the 'dad look' he's been perfecting since she was four. 

"Fine," she grumbles. She clasps her hands, "So I was looking through news articles, and there seem to be vamps in the next town. Should we be on that?" 

Dean clears his throat and needlessly adjusts the rear-view mirror. "Actually, kiddo, we're on something else right now." He keeps his head straight but glances at her out of the corner of his eyes. Whispering, he says, "We're gonna go get Sammy." 

Y/N's eyes widen as her head whips to look at him. "What?" 

He keeps his eyes on the road, "yeah, uh, with Dad missing... we could use the help," he says, gripping the steering wheel tighter. 

"But Sam's at college!" Y/N scoffs, "he wanted out!" 

"He abandoned us!" he shouts, shaking his head at himself when he notices her shoulders tense. Her eyes peer into her lap, where her hands lie folded. “Look Y/N/N, I just… I can't shake this awful feeling that something is wrong." He waits for a response from her, but she only nods with thin lips. She tunes him out and focuses on the wind hitting the window. "I gotta make sure they're okay," he says softly. 

Over the years, Y/N has learned to trust Dean's intuition, but right now, it just feels like he's being selfish. She opts to stay quiet, even if it makes a long drive longer.

Y/N jolts awake at the sound of the trunk slamming shut. She takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She doesn't see Dean next to her, so she scans her surroundings through squinted eyes, hoping for a clue about her whereabouts. She finds a gas station receipt in her lap and flips it over to see the scribbles of Dean's handwriting telling her to 'stay put or else.' She rolls her eyes, crumpling it into a ball to throw it into the backseat.

She hears the voices of two familiar men, one of whom she hasn't heard in two years. Her heart races, and she fumbles with the seat belt, trying to unhook it with shaky hands. She jumps out of the car and turns in time to see Dean leaning on the back of the Impala.

"It's a law school interview," Sam says, "and it's my whole future on a plate," he glares.

"Law school?" Dean asks with a smirk. Y/N walks over to stand next to Dean. He shoots a quick, acknowledging glance her way. Sam's eyes shift between Dean and Y/N, softening when they land on Y/N, "so we got a deal or not?" he asks flatly.

Dean says nothing but lightly nods his head. Y/N runs towards Sam, nearly knocking him over with a hug.

"Y/N/N," he smiles. Pulling her even closer to him, he wraps his arms tightly around her back and kisses the top of her head. "I missed you," he whispers.

"I missed you, too," she says, her eyes welling up with tears. Sam looks at Dean just in time to see him press his lips together with an 'I told you so' in his eyes. Sam shakes his head, squinting at Dean just before he lets go of Y/N.

"Kay, I gotta put a bag together," he sighs, "I'll be right back."

He turns to head for the door, and Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him until he disappears into the building. She blinks her eyes and turns to face Dean. He pushes himself off the back of the car and silently heads for the driver seat.

Sam and Y/N sit in the car at a gas station while Dean heads for snacks. Sam opens his door but quickly looks over his shoulder to check on Y/N. This is when he notices the box of tapes sitting next to her. Intrigued, he shifts in the chair and asks her to hand them to him. Y/N is hesitant because it's hard to say how Dean would react, and she's always hated being in the middle of their fights but does so anyway. Sam rests his tongue between his lips as he takes the box from Y/N. Stretching his legs out of the car, he rests the box in his lap to filter through them.

"Hey," Dean says from behind the Impala, his mouth wrapped around a candy bar, "either of you want breakfast?" he asks, holding a soda and a bag of chips.

Y/N waits for Sam to answer first. "No, thanks," he says, glancing Dean's way momentarily.

"I do," Y/N smiles.

"So how'd you pay for that stuff? Three of you still running credit card scams?" Sam says, going back to looking through the cassettes.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean says, putting the gas nozzle back into the pump.

Y/N chimes in, "Besides, all we do is apply," she shrugs, "it's not our fault they send us the cards."

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the applications this time?" he asks, swinging his legs back inside the car and closing the door behind him.

"Uh, Burt Aframian," Y/N answers. Dean gets into the seat, handing Y/N the drink and chips. "Thank you," she chirps.

"And his son Hector," Dean adds, "scored two cards out of the deal."

"Sounds about right. I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

Dean frowns, nearly offended. "Why?"

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes, and two," Sam holds one up, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead?" he says, dropping them to grab another, "Metallica?" he laughs, "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock," he says as Dean rips the Metallica tape from his hand with a glare.

"Well, house rules, Sammy." Dean pops the tape into the player with a tight smile, "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cake-hole," he says, dropping the empty case into the box. "Isn't that right, Y/N?" he smirks into the rear-view mirror and smiles when he sees her roll her eyes.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam scolds, "it's Sam, okay?"

Turning the volume up, Dean cocks his head to the side, "sorry. I can't hear you. The music's too loud," he says with a slight chuckle.

Crashing a crime scene where police are still investigating is just another Saturday with Dean for Y/N, but seeing Sam's eyes widen at the box of Dean's fake IDs calls attention to how out of the norm this life is. Dean makes wise-ass comments to the cops, as usual, and Sam stomps on Dean's foot. Dean responds by smacking Sam's head as they bicker on the way back to the car, but Y/N can't help but grin from ear to ear.

Even when her brothers are arguing, Y/N couldn't possibly be happier. Today is her first hunt with both of her brothers and the first time in far too long since the three of them had been together for any reason.

They make their way to find Amy, who they learn is the girlfriend of the victim from listening to the cops on the bridge. They stop her while she's putting up missing posters, and after lying about being distant relatives of her boyfriend, they ask if she'd be willing to answer some questions to find him.

… "It's kind of this local legend," Amy's friend says after a few minutes of chatting. Massaging her thumb with her other hand, she continues, "This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." Dean glances over at Sam and Y/N, who listen intently, "Well, supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

At a local library, Dean searches the archive page for any murders on Centennial Highway with no results. Sam shoves Dean's chair, and when it rolls back, he scoots his chair to the computer to take over, earning him a slap from Dean. After replacing 'murder' with 'suicide,' a news article pops up.

"This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river," Sam reads.

"Does it say why she did it?" Y/N asks, scooting her chair closer to Sam to try and read the screen.

"Yeah," Sam says.

"What?" Dean says with raised eyebrows.

"An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently, her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing." Sam lets out a breath, "both die," he says in a whisper.

The air grows thick around them, and Y/N frowns. "That's terrible," she says, shaking her head.

"'Our babies were gone,'" Sam reads, "'and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch."

"Hmm," Dean points to the picture on the screen, "that bridge look familiar to you?"

They hit the bridge at nightfall. Crickets sing to water drumming against the rocks as it rushes under their feet. The clouds hang low in the sky, giving the air around them a haze.

"So," Dean says, peering over the bridge at the water, "this is where Constance took the swan dive," he says, leaning against the rail next to Y/N. 

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asks in disbelief, looking over at Dean. 

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him," Dean shrugs, turning to walk down the bridge. 

Sam turns to follow. "Okay, so now what?" he says, forcing a breath through his nose. Y/N walks right next to him, still scared to let him out of her sight. 

"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while," Dean grumbles. 

Sam stops walking, "Dean," he says, raising his hands before dropping them. "I told you. I've gotta be back by Monday." 

"Monday," Dean says, pivoting to make grueling eye contact with Sam, but only turns his body enough that he's still facing the bridge's railing. "Right," he says, shaking a finger, "the interview." The bridge creaks under him as he turns the rest of the way. 

"Yeah," Sam nods. 

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Dean says, shifting his weight between his feet. "You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Dean asks, the animosity growing with each word. 

Sam shrugs, "maybe. Why not?" 

Dean's voice roughens, "Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know the things you've done?" 

Sam takes a few threatening steps toward Dean, "No, and she's not ever going to know," he scowls. 

"Well, that's healthy," Dean sneers. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to who you really are," he says, turning around to continue walking. 

Sam huffs, "Who's that?" 

"You're one of us," Dean shrugs, a hand gesturing towards Y/N. 

"Hey! Leave me out of this," Y/N grumbles from ahead. 

"No," Sam says, speed walking towards Dean, "I'm not like you," he says, turning around as he stops in front of Dean. "This is not going to be my life."

Dean keeps his jaw tight. "Well, you have a responsibility to..." 

Y/N feels the tension rising and tries to plead with them to stop arguing, but they ignore her. "Guys!" she shouts again. 

"To Dad? And his crusade?" Sam scoffs. "If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like! And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her," he shakes his head, "Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back." 

Dean grips Sam's shirt and swings him around and against the bridge's railing with a clunk at Sam's weight against it. 

Y/N flips around and runs to their side, "Dean, what are you doing? Are you crazy?" She panics. But Dean continues to ignore her as he glares at Sam. 

After a long, breathless pause, Y/N shouts again, "Dean!" 

The misty air is still between them, and even the wind seems too frightened to move. It's as if the world is put on pause.

Dean's eyebrows raise, and he keeps a firm grip on Sam's shirt. Under his breath, he says, "Don't talk about her like that." 

He throws Sam's jacket from his hands and takes a few stabilizing steps backward in one movement. Y/N runs to check on Sam, who shakes her off with an "I'm fine" that sounds muffled compared to the pounding of her heart. A few tears escape her when she looks over at Dean walking away from them, but she doesn't realize she's crying until the taste of salt hits her lips. 

Her eyes return to Sam, shaking her head in disgust that Dean would treat him like that. She knew it had been rough for Dean since Sam left for college, but hell, it's been hard on her, too, and she's not throwing anyone against the side of a bridge!

Dean halts, “Sam. Y/N!” he calls. Y/N turns with a full-body glare, but her eyes widen when she sees a woman in a long, white dress standing on the bridge's railing. The woman looks over at them, and Y/N can see the resemblance to the picture of Constance. The woman's hair and dress sway in the wind, and she keeps her eyes on them as she allows herself to drop from the ledge. 

With a grunt, Sam rushes to the railing to look over it for her, Dean and Y/N not far behind him. 

"Where'd she go?" Dean barks. 

Breathless, Sam pushes out an "I don't know." 

The roar of the Impala's engine turning on startles them, their bodies whipping around just in time to see the headlights flick on. 

"What the-," Dean says. 

"Who's driving your car?" Y/N asks. 

Without taking his eyes off of the car, Dean pulls his keys from his pocket and jingles them, stealing Sam and Y/N's attention to them in unison. The engine revs, drawing back their wide eyes to the Impala. The tires squeal as the car begins to speed towards them. 

"Y/N, go! Go!" Dean says with a hand on each of his siblings, spinning them around to run in the opposite direction. Dean presses his hand firmly on Y/N's back as they run, keeping himself between her and the car. They run as fast as they can until Dean can feel the Impala's breath on his ankles, and he guides them towards the bridge's railing. 

Y/N's heart feels like a brick in her chest, weighing her down at the thought of jumping over. "I can't," she says in a breath, and all in a split second, she feels like her feet are cemented into the bridge's planks as Sam jumps over. "No!" she screams as Dean grips onto her arm, pulling them both over the bridge. 

Sam hangs from the ledge of the bridge, shouting for Y/N as her screams are washed out with a big splash. "Y/N!" he calls again from the back of his throat, climbing up the bridge to get on his knees. He looks over the bridge, scanning for Y/N and Dean, calling out when he sees his brother, "Dean! You alright?" 

"I'm super," Dean grumbles with an outstretched thumbs up. Lying on his back, half submerged in the muddy water. 

"I can't see Y/N! Where's Y/N?" Sam panics, and when the words hit Dean's ears, he springs to his feet in a second. He whirls around in a circle as he searches for her. 

"Y/N!" Dean shouts, wiping mud from his face. He paces around, "Y/N, where are you?" he yells, half-expecting her to pop out from behind a bush to scare him. 

The world spins around him for a moment, utterly void of sound aside from a ringing in his ears as Dean tries to comprehend what is happening. He closes his eyes tight, shaking his head to clear away the fog that covers him. They open onto the water, catching the moon's glimmer reflecting off something. He runs towards it, hopping from rock to rock until he finds Y/N's broken locket stuck in algae. Dean picks it up with shaky hands, recalling how her face lit up when he first gave it to her. She'd be devastated to see its state now. Fear spills down him in an icy chill.

His head swivels around in search of her. Tears, that he refuses to let fall, poke at his eyes when he sees her lying face down in the water, a bloody rock next to her.

“Y/N!” He shouts, rushing to her. He kneels to pull her out of the water by her shoulder, turning her over so that her back rests against his knee. "Y/N!" he yells again, and when she doesn't respond, he grabs her by the waist and hoists her over his shoulder. He grunts, shifting his weight before jogging for the shore. "Sam! I got her!" 

"Dean! Is she okay?" He calls out as he sprints down the side of the hill to catch up to them. The brothers reach the shore simultaneously, and Dean drops to his knees to gently set Y/N on the ground in front of him, Sam following suit. 

"Come on, be okay, be okay, be okay, be okay," Dean pleads softly, placing two fingers on her neck. His heart is beating so hard that he can't tell if it's her pulse he's feeling or his own. "Sam, I can't feel anything," he says. Dropping an ear to her mouth, he adds, "And I don't think she's breathing." 

"Call 911," Sam demands, ripping his jacket off to tie around Y/N's bleeding head wound. He quickly inspects the rest of her body for any bleeding before placing a hand on her chest. Looking up at Dean, who stands frozen, Sam puts his free hand on Dean's shoulder, "now, Dean!" he shouts, shoving him. 

Sam tilts Y/N's head back, checking again for a pulse, a breath, a twitch, a shudder, anything that meant he wouldn't have to perform CPR on his baby sister. He places his hands on her chest, one over the other, pausing in case her heart miraculously started again, but all he feels under his palms is the stillness of Y/N's wet and cold chest. 

Sam begins chest compressions, and the tears he'd been holding back rush out uncontrollably when he feels her ribs break under his palms. It makes him want to pull away, but he forces himself to continue. Dean watches in wide-eyed horror as he gives the 911 operator their location when asked, keeping his free hand pressed against his forehead. 

"Anything?" he shakily shouts at Sam after what feels like hours. Sam ignores him, counting out loud until he hits thirty again. He stops compressions to blow a shuddering breath into Y/N's mouth, watching her chest rise and fall before delivering another. "Hello! Is anybody on the way? My sister is dying here!" Dean shouts into the phone, but all that meets his ears is static. 

"Dean," Sam says with a heavy breath, beginning compressions again. "You gotta take over," he says between breaths. 

Without question, Dean drops his phone to the ground as he falls to his knees next to her, "come on, Y/N," he pleads, ignoring the burning in his knees as he places his hands together on top of Sam's. Sam leaves his hands under Dean's for just one compression before pulling away. 

"Okay, that's ten. You've got twenty more before breaths," Sam says before they count out loud together with every push into Y/N's chest. 

Dean is growing tired by his third round of compressions, but the sirens in the distance electrify him, giving him the energy he needs to continue. 

His face scrunches up as he musters the emotional and physical strength to keep going. Sam hurries to his feet, "don't stop, Dean, you're doing great!" he says with a palm at him. 

"Don't stop," Dean repeats mindlessly, "don't stop." 

Sprinting towards the paramedics, Sam waves his arms, shouting, "Down here! We're down here!" before he knows it, a group of professionals sprint down the hill, the gurney in tow. One takes a story from Sam as one tries to pull Dean away so the other two can take over caring for Y/N. 

"No, I can't stop!" he cries, which grabs Sam's attention, "don't stop," he nearly whispers, hands pumping into Y/N's chest. 

Sam rushes over and lowers himself to Dean's level. "Dean, let go. It's okay, they'll take it from here," he says, grabbing onto Dean's hands to pull him off of Y/N. They watch the paramedics in shock as they cut the shirt, bra, and pants off of Y/N, inspecting her skin. The first responders put what look like stickers with wires attached to them onto her chest and pull out the AED, telling everyone to stand clear before delivering a shock with a beep. Then, there was a pause and the silence that follows is deafening. Nothing. They check for a pulse and call clear again, shocking her. Then, nothing. Again. 

In the hospital's hallway, Dean tries to tune out the surround sound of constant beeping. His elbows rest on his scraped and bloody knees with his head held in his hands. He rocks back and forth, battling with himself. He sheds tears both out of fear for his sister's well-being and of guilt that he did the very thing he promised her he wouldn't: put her in danger.

The clacking of Sam's shoes pulls Dean from his homemade mental Hell. Dean lifts his head, quickly wiping his eyes before grabbing the cafeteria coffee. Sam's familiar smell of motel soap and deodorant washes away the torturous smell of hand sanitizer.

"Thanks," Dean mutters, taking a sip of the coffee before placing it next to him on the cold tile floor. 

Sam's eyes are red and puffy. Dean struggles to comprehend how Sam doesn't even try to hide the tears coming down. He often admires his brothers ability to wear his heart on his sleeve, though he'd never admit it. He wonders who he's being 'strong' for in this moment because it's certainly not himself.

Clearing his throat, Sam pulls his pants up slightly at the thighs before sitting on the bench next to Dean. He glances up at the ceiling momentarily, waiting for the announcement to end before asking, "Any news yet?"

Dean shakes his head. "No," he says in a raspy voice, forcing his eyes to look up and down the hall. "Excuse me," he says, standing to interrupt a nurse before she can enter a different room. "Would you mind helping us find whoever we need to talk to for an update on room 221?" he asks, gesturing to the door he hasn't been able to even look at since arriving.

Her eyes flutter to Sam, then the door, and back to Dean before she somberly nods. "Of course," she says, setting her pen back onto the clipboard as she turns to head in the direction she came.

Dean wants to return to his seat, but his body feels like an anchor. He sucks in a sharp breath. His shoulders tighten into his neck and with weak arms his hands fall to his hips. He hangs his head, clenching his teeth and pulling his face to suppress the tears. Sam jumps up to Stand with Dean, placing a hand tightly on his shoulder.

"She'll be alright," Sam says, not fully believing himself, "she's a Winchester; she has to be." 

Dean quickly straightens himself out because damn it, he's the one that's supposed to be taking care of his younger siblings - not the other way around.

"Sam and Dean Winchester?" a deep voice echoes the hall and they whirl around to greet the doctor. Dean quickly slaps the tears from his face. "I'm Dr. Ferguson," he says, holding his arm up to shake hands with Sam, then Dean. "Let's go somewhere more private to talk."

"We're good here," Dean spits. 

"Very well," the doctor sighs, looking down the hall behind him. He shuffles them closer to the wall and out of the traffic flow. "Well, while we were able to restart her heart, I'm afraid your sister has sustained a substantial injury to the head," he says, "the trauma caused the tissue around her brain to swell quite rapidly, and well, we have her on a ventilator, but," he lets out a breath, "we haven't seen as much progress as we were hoping for. She's technically in a coma right now, but we hope to see her come out of it in the coming weeks." 

"Weeks?" Dean bellows.

"Yes, I'm afraid that's standard recovery time for an injury of this magnitude. Although, we'd be having an entirely different conversation if not for your quick thinking in the field," he says with a tight-lipped smile, eyes jumping from Dean's to Sam's, "it's a long road to recovery, but this is a good start." 

"And what happens if she doesn't wake up?" Sam asks. 

"We will do everything in our power to ensure that doesn't happen," the doctor nods. 

"Thanks, doc," Sam croaks. "Can - can we see her?" he stutters. 

"Of course," he says, pushing the door open with his fingertips, "go on in," he says.  

Sam immediately notices Dean's hesitancy when they exchange a glance, so he nods before taking a few steps into the room. He covers his mouth to stifle a sob when he sees his little sister with a tube down her throat and one in her nose. When he's close enough, he reaches for her hand and sits in the chair beside her, startled by the sound of the door shutting. Dean slowly enters the room, but keeps his distance.

Dean feels like the air is void of oxygen and tells himself to pull it together enough to stand by her bed. "Hey kiddo," Dean says to Y/N with a shaky breath. "God, please be okay," he says, forcing a smile as he grips onto her hand.

The two sit with Y/N for days, only leaving for bathroom trips and snack runs, but when one goes, the other stays, and when one is napping, the other is awake. Dean has grown slightly more self-composed but is still anxious as they stay by her side, even when the nurses come to deliver medications, chart vitals, or empty her catheter.

"Hey, Dean," Sam says, clearing his throat. 

"Yeah," he replies, keeping his eyes on Y/N. 

Sam looks down into his hands, "about my interview-" 

"Wait, what?" Dean says, cutting him off, "you're still gonna leave after all this?" he shouts through a clenched jaw. The chair scoots back in a screech as he quickly brings himself to his feet, "you don't wanna be here when she wakes up?" he asks, aggressively gesturing at Y/N. 

"Dean, we don't even know if she'll wake up," Sam quivers. 

"Man, you are a piece of work," Dean shouts, shaking his head. 

"If you would've let me finish," Sam growls with narrow eyes, "I was going to say that I called earlier… to reschedule it," he sighs, looking back at Y/N, "they were very understanding of the situation." 

"Oh," Dean says, turning on his heels to face away from Sam. He swipes a hand down his face, shaking his head when his eyes open to the white walls of the hospital's room. "Look, man, I'm sorry," he says, palms open and facing Sam. "This just has me on edge." 

Taking a few steps towards him, Sam holds back the urge to get nasty with Dean, telling him he's not the only one feeling 'on edge' about their sister's condition. Instead, he raises his palms and softens his face, "Me too. Believe me." 

By Thursday, Y/N had graduated from a ventilator to an oxygen mask. Though still needing the feeding tube, she's shown glimpses here and there of the Y/N they know and love, but overall, she struggles to remain conscious. The doctors are calling it a 'Minimally Conscious State' and "completely normal with this type of recovery."

On Saturday, Sam heads out for food from a local restaurant at Dean's request - something about them having good pies - but Sam has a sneaking suspicion that Dean needs some time alone with Y/N, and Sam could use the fresh air anyway.

Sitting in the chair beside her bed, Dean holds one of Y/N's hands in both of his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry I failed you, Y/N," he cries. "I should have been protecting you," he whispers, letting the tears fall freely now, "but instead of doing that, I got you into this mess."

Looking up at Y/N's face, he swears he sees a tear slip down her cheek. Despite being convinced he's imagining it, he reflexively draws his hand to wipe her tear away, gasping when it comes back wet. His heart races as he gently stands to get beside her in the bed. "Shh," he coos, wrapping his arm around her.

His eyes fall shut, and he's transported back in time to the almost seven-month period where she would only fall asleep if Dean were right there in bed next to her. Through tears and voice cracks, he sings Hey Jude in a whisper, occasionally reaching over to wipe her tears away.

"I love you so much," he whispers. "I don't know how to live without you," he says, his tears turning into sobs. "Please wake up," he cries, arm wrapped tightly around her, "I promise I'll teach you how to drive if you just please wake up."

~~~~ If you liked my story, please remember to heart, comment or reblog. Or if you'd like, you can add yourself to a tag list here if you wish :) Thank you for reading!! :)

Everything Tags <3

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Sam <3 (not including the tags already above :) ) @fangirlxwritesx67 @immafangirlmess @sizekinkshawty

[kaleldobrev]

Unexpected Love

Pairing: Ash x Sister!Winchester!Reader

Summary: Ash is your mullet knight in flannel armor

Original Prompt: Requested by anonymous | Hiii, I saw you write for spn and I throught about making a request. Idk if you even remember Ash, he's seen in season 2 but for like, just 5 minutes in total so I'm not gonna be mad if you don't remember him, but I throught about asking you if you could write something for him with Reader that's Dean and Sam's little sister? You can write what you want, even something bite sized, I just feel like he's not appreciated enough 🥺 It's ok if you don't want to write it, and take your time if you do. Have a good day 💕

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Cursing (1x), Fluff, Sam & Dean just being protective/supportive older brothers

Authors Note: Of course I remember Ash my anon friend! How could I not remember Doctor Badass? | Since you told me to write whatever I wanted, I decided to do a cute little romance between him and reader cause hey, he needs some love too! | He’s honestly one of my favs | I hope you liked how this came out! I never wrote Ash before, so I hope I was able to do his character justice! | Takes place in Season 2 obviously | Flashbacks are in italics | If you want to request something, just send me a message! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Dating was something that was always particularly hard for you as you’ve been consistently on the road with your father and brothers since you were six months old. The four of you never staying in the same place long enough for you to ever form any kind of connection with anyone. In a way, you thought that it was a good thing considering this line of work, but at the same time, human connection was something that you craved, yearned for. Yes, you had a strong bond with your brothers (Sam more than Dean – twin power you know?), and kind of had a strong bond with your father, but the bonds that you had with the three of them weren’t particularly fulfilling for you. You always felt like there was something missing.

At one point when you were seven or eight, long before you had learned of the supernatural, you had asked your father once when the four of you were in the car if you could stay at Uncle Bobby’s for a while.

“I’m tired of moving around so much daddy. Can I stay at Uncle Bobby’s for a while?” You had told him, asked him; silence filled the impala, despite the music being so loud.

Sam turned to face you before turning to look at your father – you knew that Sam had felt the same way. Dean turned to look at you, craning his neck as he was in the front seat along with your father who was currently driving to the next motel. It would have been the third motel in less than two weeks. Your father looked into the rearview mirror, looking at you as you started playing with your thumbs. “I’m sorry…” You whispered.

When the four of you had gotten to the motel, Dean had practically pulled you to the side while your father and Sam had started bringing things into the motel room. “Why do you want to get away from dad so bad?” He asked, almost as if he was offended.

“I want to stay in one place longer than two days.” You said. “Motels smell funny.”

Dean scoffed. “So does Uncle Bobby’s house.”

That was the last time you had ever asked.

Even if you had found yourself lucky to pull a date, something or someone would always get in the way. Either a hunt would take precedence, or one of your brothers (usually Dean) would “accidentally” interrupt the date. With either scenario, the guy you had landed the date with would either never call you make again – despite your efforts of trying to make something work or, they would outright tell you to never call them again.

As the years went by, you had simply come to the conclusion that you were destined to never find love, destined to spend the life on the road with your brothers as hunters.

“Come with me.” Sam said to you, a few weeks before he had told you, Dean, and your father that he was going to be leaving to go to Stanford.

“I can’t Sammy. I don’t have a full ride like you do.” You said. “Besides, he’d be too fucking worried if I went.”

“But we’d be together Y/N. It’s not like we’d be by ourselves.” He said. He wanted you to come with him, despite not really interested in the whole college thing; but he knew hunting was something that you had never wanted to do. You wanted that white picket fence life like he wanted.

“I can’t…leave Dean with dad.” You told him. As much as you had wanted to go with him, you couldn’t leave Dean and dad alone, as you were usually the buffer between them. Yes, they rarely got into fights but when they did…it got bad.

You were fully prepared to do the whole one night stand thing for the rest of your life. At least you would have some kind of human connection, even if it was just for a little while. Hell, it’s been working out just fine for Dean, why wouldn’t it work for you? But that was until you met Ash.

Ash was an interesting person; someone that you thought you wouldn’t have ended up with. Despite knowing him less than a year, he was someone that you could actually imagine spending your life with (no matter how long that life span may be). You had first met him about a few months after the death of your father when your brother Sam was listening to your father’s voicemails.

“He’s always been so secretive.” You told them, upon hearing the sound of a woman’s voice in one of the voicemails – a woman that called herself Ellen.

“Think dad ever had a thing with her and it ended badly? Maybe that’s why he never told us about her.” Sam theorized.

His theory caused your other brother to give a disgusted look. “Gross, now I’m thinking of dad having sex.” Dean said, his voice sounding just as disgusted.

“You are far too pretty to be with these two.” Was one of the first sentences that Ash had ever uttered to you. A sentence that had made you laugh, but a sentence that offended your eldest brother Dean the most.

The relationship between you and Ash was something that you honestly didn’t expect to happen. Not because he wasn’t your type, but because you had thought that there would be no possible way to maintain a relationship given the fact that you were always on the road.

“You know this isn’t going to work out right?” You had told Ash, the day you and your brothers had gotten back to the Roadhouse after completing the Rakshasa case.

Ash looked at you, trying his best to play it cool as your brothers were only standing within earshot. “That’s the beauty of technology. You’d only be a phone call away.” He said. Him saying this was something that you had never really thought about previously; but it was something that had made perfect sense to you.

“If someone wants to be with you kid, they’ll make the effort.” Bobby told you numerous times growing up. For years, it was a line you thought that he just said in order to make you feel better. But for the first time in your life, you realized that Ash was the only guy in your life (besides your brothers and your father) that had actually wanted to make the effort.

“You and Ash still going strong uh?” Dean asked, leaning up against Baby.

“Uh, yeah.” You replied. “Still trying to get used to the whole long distance thing.”

“That’s fair.” He said. “At least you guys text and call right?”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Do you not want to talk about this? Thought this would be something you’d be all over.”

“Dean, you and Sammy have never been people I’ve spoken to about guys before. Nor have either of you really asked. Why the sudden interest in Ash and me?” Whenever you had crushes on people in the past, you had never once found yourself gunning to tell one of your brothers or your dad. You knew that it would only end badly; especially if you told your father or Dean.

He shrugged. “Can’t your brother just be interested in your relationship for once?”

“Not without ulterior motives he can’t.” You gave him a look, your brother automatically looking offended.

“Me? Have an ulterior motive? Honestly sis, I’m offended.” He scoffed.

“It’s kind of your MO brother.” You said. Dean opened up his mouth as if to say something; to try and get himself out of whatever hole he had dug himself into. But there was nothing that he could possibly say to get out of it. He instead just closed his mouth.

“Look, I’m just happy for you. Truly I am.” He actually sounded sincere. “You know me and Sammy just worry.”

“And you know just as well as I do that I can kick either of your asses.” You said. “I can take care of myself just fine. And Ash…neither of you have anything to worry about honestly.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking Ash.” You said, sitting on the trunk of Baby while your brothers were inside of the motel room. Being outside was the only source of privacy that you could possibly have when being on the phone.

“What’s up Missus Badass?” He asked, hearing the smile in his voice.

“I was thinking, after we finally kill Yellow Eyes…I’m going to quit hunting.” You said. “How would Ellen and Jo feel about me working at the Roadhouse?” Your tone half joking and half serious. Ash was silent for a moment, more quiet than he normally was whenever he was on the phone. “Ash? I didn’t lose you did I?”

“No…No…” He began. “They’d love to have you.”

“Yeah?” You asked. “You know, I am very familiar with the workings of a bar.”

“If I didn’t know you so well, I would be concerned by that statement. But, since you are a Winchester, I ain’t the least bit surprised.” He said.

“Yeah. I’ve been hustling pool, and playing poker before I reached puberty.” You laughed a little. “As Sammy would say, the way we were raised was jacked.” You paused. “But hey, at least I met you.”

“Your mullet knight in flannel armor.” He said serious.

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” You smiled. The motel door opened, your brothers coming out. “I gotta go but…I love you.” You whispered the I love you. Hoping that it was just loud enough for Ash to hear, but low enough for your brothers not to.

Your I love you had caught him slightly off guard, but it was something that he enjoyed hearing you say. “I love you too.” He responded back. You were happy that he said it back, afraid that you might of said it too soon. For the first time in a long time, you had felt like you might actually get that happy ending you have always wanted: a life away from hunting.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The Safest Place

Sam and Dean & little sister!reader, John Winchester & daughter!reader

Synopsis: John has to tell you (4) about monsters, and you don’t take it well

Warnings: none, it’s short and sweet

“And that’s what me and Sammy and Dean do. And that’s why we move around all the time, and why you can’t go to work with me, and…” John swallowed. “Kiddo that’s why you don’t have a mom. Demons took her.”

Dean couldn’t watch. He didn’t even want to listen. He’d wanted to keep you from the truth for so much longer, but you were so much more nosy than Sam had been. You went through John’s journal and asked about all the monster pictures you saw in it, you asked John countless questions about the guns and the newspaper clippings and…and everything. But it was more than that—you were also clingy. Clingy to the point where you’d sneak out and try to follow either John or your brothers when they went out to hunt monsters. After a close call with a vampire where you snuck into the Impala then almost got yourself killed, John decided that enough was enough. You wouldn’t last long in this life unless you had a healthy fear of the supernatural. So that’s what John had to give you.

“What if demons take you?” Your quiet whimper finally had Dean looking up. You were shaking, blinking up at your dad as if waiting for him to say that it was all a joke and monsters weren’t real.

“The demons aren’t gonna take me,” John promised. “That’s why we hunt. So they can’t take anybody else.”

You didn’t respond, so John reached down and picked you up, laying you down on his bed and tucking you in.

“Get some sleep, kiddo.”

…

John fell asleep quickly, but Dean could hear you tossing and turning even as he struggled to settle down himself. He was always the last to fall asleep, and having to share a bed with Sam since there was no pullout couch wasn’t helping.

Because of his insomnia, Dean was the first to hear your feet padding on the motel carpet as you slipped off John’s bed and tiptoed your way over to Dean’s.

“De?” Dean could tell you were crying from just the one syllable. “De, I need help.”

Dean rolled over to see you standing at the edge of his bed, your arms stretched out for him. Dean pulled you up onto the bed without comment, and once his arms were around you you refused to let him go.

“I don’t want the demons to get me, De,” you sniffled.

“Hey—“ Dean tightened his arms around you. “—I’m not gonna let any demons get you, ok?”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Sam whispered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Demons are scary, Sammy,” you whimpered.

“Oh honey…” Sam disentangled you from Dean’s arms and cradled you in his lap.

“How do I fight demons?” You rubbed at your eyes.

“Hey, you don’t have to worry about that,” Dean said. “I don’t ever want you thinking about it. Me and Sammy and Dad are gonna get those demons, ok? Nobody’s ever gonna hurt you.”

“Yeah, and you wanna know what the safest place is?” Sam asked. You nodded firmly. “It’s right about…” Sam laid back down, and Dean followed his lead. “Here.” Sam positioned you in between himself and Dean, tucking you under the covers and keeping one arm over you. You latched onto his arm, your tiny hands wrapping around his fingers.

“Nobody can hurt you here,” Dean promised. “Me and Sammy and Dad won’t let them.”

You reached your hand out for Dean, and he responded by putting his arm over Sam’s, so you had both of your brother’s arms protecting you.

You were asleep in minutes.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810

[redbird-tf]

All you need

Dean Winchester x toddler sister reader x sam Winchester

Synopsis; As your 4th birthday approaches, all you want is to spend it with your dad. But when he shows up only to leave again, it’s your big brother who proves he’s all you truly need.

Word count: 2.7k

Notes: reference the gif for the main scene

Warnings; daddy issues, daddy issues

“Da!”

“Da!”

You tugged at Dean's pant legs, desperate to grab his attention. Across the table, Sam looked up from his book to Dean and let out an exaggerated cough, “Dean i think she wants you” he remarked. “then she can say my name” he replied flatly without looking up from his journal. Sam shook his head“Add ‘unavailable brother’ to her therapy list” Sam muttered under his breath. Dean rolled his eyes, then finally turned his chair to face you. He leaned forward and tapped his chest in emphasis “De or dean.” He enunciated firmly. “Not ‘da’ not ‘dad’. Dean”

You stared at him with those wide, doe-like eyes. “de…” you repeated softly. “Yes, y/n?” He asked, His tone losing its edge. “I want color, and TV” you demand excitedly, yanking at his jeans. “Alright, I’ll grab you your colors,” Dean said, standing from his chair. Once you were settled in front of the TV with your Scooby color book Dean returned to the table. Sam, who had silently watched the exchange, let out a chuckle. “what?” Dean irritatedly questioned. “I just don't get why it's such a big deal to you” Sam commented. Dean exhaled sharply, trying to keep his voice low. “She knows I'm not dad, Sam.” his patience was wearing thin. “Does she?” Sam hesitated “She sees you a lot more than dad”. “Then why doesn't she call you dad? your with her as much as i am” Dean scoffed, roughly shutting his journal. Sam raised a brow “Because i was at Stanford for the first year of her life” Dean couldn’t argue and remained silent. His gaze wanders to you, engrossed by cartoons, oblivious to the conversation happening behind you.

Sam let out a heavy sigh, following Dean's gaze towards you. “Her birthday tomorrow…” his voice was laced with concern. “I know.” Dean mumbled, “you think Dad remembers?” Sam practically whispered. Dean's jaw tightened “He said he’d be back by tomorrow” Deans tone was flat, rehearsed almost. “Thats not what-“ “i don't know Sam” Dean snapped, his chair scraped against the hardwood as he stood abruptly. Without another word he turned and walked out the door, leaving Sam alone with his unspoken thoughts.

Dean's hand dragged down his face as his chest rose and fell. “Hey y/n” he heard Sam's voice call from inside. “Hi, Sammy”. Confused, he glanced over his shoulder to see the window he cracked open earlier. He hesitantly inched closer, peaking in through the blinds. Inside Sam was now sitting with you in front of the TV. You hadn’t even bothered to look up from your coloring book as you greeted him. Sam watched you for a moment “Y/n why do you call Dean dad?” Sam asked carefully. The scratching of crayons against thick paper had suddenly stopped. You shrugged dismissively “i don't know,” you said, unnaturally high-pitched. Sam knew there was something you weren’t telling him. Sam studied you and chose his next words carefully. “You know deans our brother right?”. Your shoulders slumped and your lips formed a pout.

“But… he acts like the dads on TV…” you mumbled. Sam let the silence sit, hoping you'd say more. “He's always here, he's strong, he loves me…” your voice wavered and before Sam could react, tears started to pool in your eyes. “Ok ok, I'm sorry bug, no need to cry” Sam cooed, swiftly scooping you into his lap. He rubbed slow circles into your back. After a moment Sam moved to cradle your face in his large hands, before speaking “you know brothers can do that too” he spoke gently, not wanting to upset you again. “Really?” You asked, blinking at him with those big round eyes, that never failed to make Sam's heart melt. “He’ll always be here, even when dad can't” Sam replied with a smile. His smile quickly faded when your pout had no intention of turning upside down like something was weighing you down. “What's wrong?” He asked with furrowed brows.

“Does Daddy remember my birthday tomorrow?” Sam’s heart shattered. Outside the window, Dean's head dropped. Guilt gnawing at him. he felt like he was already failing you, he was supposed to protect you from those thoughts. Sam wouldn’t shield their father’s image for you like Dean would, he couldn’t lie to you. “i don't know” Sam admitted, his voice cracking. His arms opened out to you again, waiting for you to seek comfort. But you didn't move. You stayed planted in his lap. “Dos dean….?” Your voice wavered, thick with sadness. “Of course he does” was quick to reply. “Because he's my brother” you mumbled, sam couldn’t tell if that was a statement or question but nodded his head anyway. “Because he's your brother” he repeated, lifting you gently off the floor. He pressed a kiss to your temple and held you close. “Let's get you to bed”

—————

You began to stir, the sunlight was bleeding warmth into the room and the birds chirping soothed you softly from your rest. With a yawn, You pushed yourself upright, rubbing the sleep from your heavy eyes. The faint voices caught your attention. Blinking away the last trace of sleep you turned your head. “Daddy!” You shouted, your eyes had landed on John who stood in the middle of the room between the brothers. Their conversation had halted, watching you dart towards John. “Hey kid” a rare smile tugged at his lips, as he swept you up into his arms. You wrapped yourself tightly around him“It's my birthday!” You announced. “The big 4” he added. Your smile widened, he remembered. “Do i get a gift?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side. “You know i was a little busy, but….” his hand began to rummage around in his pocket. “But this will get you whatever you want” he stated handing you a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. Sam rolled his eyes, a quiet scoff escaping him. John lowered you back to your feet “Now why don't you go play? i need to talk to your brothers” You nodded eagerly at his request, clutching the bill in your hand before scurrying off.

You had decided to occupy your time with more TV, letting their voices become background noise. Until the familiar creak of the door hinges caught your attention. The three of them were walking out the door, with their backs turned to you. You scrambled to your feet, to meet them in the parking lot. “Daddy! Where are we going?” You called out, your small feet smacking against the pavement. They hadn’t even noticed you following them. “I've gotta go to work baby” he explained crouching to your level. You frowned “But it's my birthday!” You nagged with a stomp of your foot. You tugged at his shirt and began to beg. It didn’t matter what he was saying-you just wanted him to stay. Your tantrum wore thin on John's patience “This is more important” he snapped, prying your hands from his collar with a sharp jerk. Your lip trembled uncontrollably, and before the first tear could fall you turned your heel. You ran back to the room, shoving past Sam when he tried to hold you. Sam turned back to face his dad with a cold stare. John returned the glare “Don't give me that look” John warned. “Dean help me with the bags” he ordered. Dean nodded, silently he grabbed a bag and followed their father to the truck.

John closed the tailgate with a thud then turned to Dean, his hand gripping his shoulder “Take care of your siblings” Dean nodded with a commonly repeated “yes sir” and turned back to the motel where he saw Sam standing, his arms crossed with a scowl on his face. Dean moved to stand next to him while they both watched John's truck pull out of the lot and disappear down the road. A faint sniffle broke the silence. Dean glanced down and was surprised to see your trembling form wrapped around Sammy's leg. With a sigh, Dean stepped forward, detaching you from Sam and pulling you into his arms. You didn’t resist and rather pressed your body tightly against your big brother's chest. The safest place in the world. His large hand rubs up and down your back while whispering comforting words in your ear. You shifted slightly, your head moved from resting on his shoulder to being tucked beneath his chin.

“You're my real daddy, De,” you said sternly, outweighing the tremble in your voice. Deans jaw clenched. His heart ached for you, for the little girl who had learned far too early what it felt like to be abandoned. There was nothing he could say to fix things, nothing he could do to shield you from the hurt. He just held you tighter, like it was the only thing holding you together. “Can we get McDonalds?” Your voice broke him from his trance and a small chuckle escaped his lips. “I got twenty dollars” you added, holding up the crumpled bill. A genuine laugh rumbled from his chest, shaking the heaviness of the moment. The girl who was just pulling on his heartstrings now wanted nothing more than McDonalds. Your brows furrowed in confusion, widening his smile even more. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I'll get you all the McDonalds you want” he promised, voice steady. Dean couldn’t fix things with their father, but maybe he could be everything you needed.

[inlovewhithafairytale]

me: oh yes i LOVE slow burn romance

*also me when its the third chapter and they havent kissed*: EXCUSE ME THIS IS ROMANCE RIGHT?! NOW love eachother!

[ellieslittleburrow]

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

Warnings : swearing and cute John

A/N : should we write more John Winchester?

-----

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 🖤🖤🖤🥀🥀🥀

[almondcroissantsandink]

i don't even know what to say

[jasmines-library]

Could you do a Winchester sister fic about her having a bad asthma attack and not being able to breathe and the boys get all scared

Breathe

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Note: First off i want to apologise for taking forever to write this. or anything. but we're back!

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Asthma attack.

Honestly not too sure how I feel about this one….but it’s my first time writing in weeks so pls bear with.

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

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Your fist collided with the Demon’s face as you swung around to face her. If the insistent throbbing in your hand wasn’t an indicator of how hard you had hit her, the stream of dark droplets falling from her nose, and the grunt she made as she went careening sideways were. She bounced back quickly though. Much quicker than you would have liked. She scowled, her black eyes narrowing as you swung a fist back in retaliation forcing you to lean back uncomfortably on your heels. You heard a clatter to your left as an array of cutlery went flying across the floor as Sam managed to tackle the demon he was dealing with. The woman in front of you glared at you with malice as she heard her counterpart go down. With a little shrug, and a petty smirk, you continued to dance around her, trying to get a good stab at her with your angel blade. 

When you heard Dean breathe out a sigh of relief as he managed to deal with the latter of the ones he had been fighting, you didn’t allow yourself to get distracted and keep your focus on her. Distraction is a hunters number one enemy. But you can feel yourself getting tired. You can feel the burn in your muscles and the ache in your lungs as it grows harder and harder to suck air into them. 

But then she made a mistake: She twisted to the side, raising her arm to swing a left hook, but left her right side open. It gave you the perfect opportunity, and you plunged the demon knife into her. She lit up in a spark of yellow before falling to the ground. 

It was straight after that that everything sort of…hit you. Now that you weren’t focused on ‘not-dying’, the tightness in your chest was more noticeable. And that made you panic. And of course, that made everything much worse. Clutching one hand to your chest and the other against the wall, you tried to get in another breath, only for it to feel as though it had been cut short. When Sam came through the door, his self-accomplished grin was cut short as he saw you struggling to breathe. 

“Hey, Hey.” Sam rushed over to you, his hand resting on your shoulder as you looked up at him, wide-eyes and breathing in short, frantic gasps. “Hey. Calm down. You’re fine. Breathe”

You try to listen to Sam. Try to get your lungs to open up and to breathe normally. But they are stubborn and seem to do the exact opposite. 

Sam’s heart seems to break a little when you look up at him. “Where’s your inhaler?”

You blink. Your chest heaves. “Car-”

Your older brother curses mentally, and you think that he calls out to Dean, because he’s rounding the corner one second and is hovering above you the next. 

“Dean…her inhaler. It’s in the car. Side pocket.” Sam tells his older brother, his tone firm and authoritative. Dean nodding, his hair falling over his eyes as he scrambles back out of the house, swerving around the fallen demons to get to the car as quickly as he can.

Sam’s hands remain on your shoulders. His large hands take up most of your shoulder as they rest on the coloured flannel of your shirt. They’re calloused and rough, but seem to act almost as a safety blanket keeping you grounded. He shifts one of them to your chin, pinching it gently between his thumb and his index finger as he lifts up your chin. His irises seem to shift in the light as he gets you to look at him. Hazel brown, then green and back to hazel again. They’re glossy, concerned, but hold a sense of ease. Protectiveness. 

“You’re okay, Kiddo. Just breathe. Dean will be back any second now.” Sam reassures, although he is unsure if he’s trying to reassure you or himself more. He’s panicking. And, he's beginning to grow antsy because Dean has yet to return from the car which he parked so impossibly far away. Damn stealth. 

An impossible amount of time later less than a minute Dean comes skidding to a halt, inhaler in hand. Dean has already shaken it and removed the cap, so he fumbles around to get it in your hand. Once your fingers wrap around the plastic your brain goes into autopilot. The plastic is quickly brought to your lips and the medicine pumped into your lungs as you inhale deeply. It doesn’t take long for the medicine to work its magic. You feel the burn in your lungs subside slightly, and a flood of air comes rushing into your lungs as you breathe deeply, leaning against the wall as you collect yourself, taking a moment to yourself. 

Dean raises a hand towards you, brushing the hair out of your face. “You okay sweetheart?”

“I……” You take another deep breath. “Yea. sorry.”

“No need to apologise, kid.” Dean says “As long as you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.” you say, taking one last puff of the inhaler before replacing the cap and securing it in your pocket. 

“You have seriously got to start remembering to bring that with you.” Sam reprimands, always the sensible one.

You sigh. “I know. But it’s so annoying to carry around.”

“We know it is, sweetheart, but you kind of need it”

“I know…..”

“So you’ll bring it with you?”

“No promises.”

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. He swears you give him more and more grey hairs everyday. You just grin up at him and he can’t help but shake his head affectionately at your stubbornness.

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SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr @aestheticdaisies @xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys @inlovewhithafairytale @harleycao

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[smoky-lucine]

Back from the Dead

Dean Winchester & Little sister!reader After Dean dies, Y/N is stuck mourning for months. When he is freed from hell, he tries to call her. Angst, Sam's mentioned but not actually there, more Bobby than anything 💀 This is my first fic i'm posting omg! hopefully it turned out alright

After Dean died things quickly fell apart. Sam clearly wasn’t okay, and neither were you. You got new cases here and there, but it wasn’t the same without Dean. You and Sam decided to slow down on hunting for the time being to grieve. Days turned into weeks, crying turned into drinking, praying turned into attempting crossroad deals, and eventually you woke up one morning alone in the motel with no trace of Sam.

You tried calling his phone for days, tracing any of his aliases, looking into any cases nearby hoping he found one on his own. He was completely gone.

After a couple weeks of searching, you called Bobby. He hasn’t heard from Sam in weeks and offered for you to stay with him instead of living from a motel. You took a bus to his home, and he greeted you with a big hug. You both don’t like to admit it, but he’s been more of a father to you than your actual dad ever was.

He let you move into his spare bedroom, and that's where you spent the first few weeks. Bobby would leave food at your door. He would sometimes try to come in and talk to you, but you weren’t very talkative anymore. Occasionally he’d practically drag you down to the library. He either needed help researching for other hunters or would tell you, “Spending all your life in that damn room won’t help you at all. I know it’s hard. We’re both hurting Y/N, but please just talk to me instead of suffering up there all day.”

Most nights he could hear your nightmares. He wasn’t there when Dean died, but he was there when you all buried his body. He couldn’t even imagine what it looked like actually seeing him die. Bobby could hear you crying in your sleep, begging Dean to keep breathing. He would come in and wake you up when you would start to scream. He couldn’t stand hearing you relive your brother's death every night.

Eventually the two of you were able to talk and mourn Dean together, slowly grieving and beginning to move on. You started to spend more time downstairs, researching, watching TV with Bobby. He even got you to go out to dinner one night.

The two of you would talk about Sam sometimes. Bobby would hear you late at night sobbing on a voicemail to him hoping he would finally pick up. You both knew he was alive, making your confusion on why Sam wouldn’t talk to you even more saddening. Bobby didn’t have much to say to comfort you anymore.

“I’m sorry kid. I know he’s out there somewhere; he’s just trying to mourn and move on too.”

One day you were cleaning up the library while Bobby made lunch, when you got a call. Nobody calls you anymore. Looking at the unknown number you cleared your throat and answered, putting the call on speaker.

“Hello?” You say, still putting away books.

The person on the line gasped. “Y/N?”

“Who is this?” Bobby hears you on the phone and stands right outside of the library to listen in.

“Y/N! It-It’s Dean! I can’t get a hold of Sam where are you guys?”

Your eyes pop out of your head, and you drop the book you were holding. “Dean? You can’t be Dean.” Your eyes cloud up with tears and Bobby runs into the library.

“Y/N it really is me please listen to me kid. Listen I don’t know-” Bobby grabs your phone and takes it off speaker.

“You listen to me idjit I don’t know how you got this number or why you think this is funny, but I better never hear you playing these kinds of damn tricks on us ever again.” You hear the person on the line start to talk but Bobby ends the call. You sat down at the desk and broke down. You hadn’t heard Dean’s voice in months, but it really did sound like him.

Bobby pulled a chair up and put his arm around you. “Kid I know you weren’t expecting for that to happen but we both know that wasn’t him.”

“How was it not?” You sobbed. “That was his voice. I know that was his voice.”

You lean into Bobby, and he holds you as you sob. He tried his best to comfort you, but he wasn’t very good at it, and he wasn’t exactly sure what was happening either. It took a while, but eventually you calmed down and you guys decided to just relax and call it an early day.

Later that night you were in your room getting your things ready to shower. You grabbed your clothes and started to make your way to the bathroom when there was a knock on the door. You weren’t sure who could be here at this hour. You put your stuff in the bathroom and start going down the stairs when you hear Bobby grab his knife and you hear a fight break out. You take your own knife out of your pocket and run to the front room.

There you see Bobby and Dean fighting. “Bobby! It’s me!” “My ass!”

You couldn’t believe Dean was right in front of you. He looks completely fine, like he wasn’t torn apart by hell hounds just a few months ago. Like you didn’t bury him just a few months ago.

“Wait! Your name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed. You’re about the closest thing I have to a father.” Dean looks terrified and Bobby stands still. You drop your knife in shock and they both turn to look at you.

“Dean.” Your face is white as a ghost, your heart pounding.

Dean’s eyes soften and he stands up. “Y/N.”

He starts to walk towards you and Bobby blocks him. He stares at Dean for a second and touches his shoulder. He still doesn’t believe it. You run up and push Bobby’s arm away, hugging Dean as hard as you can. Dean hugs you back and you both sigh a breath of relief.

You pull back and take it in. Deans alive. Right in front of you.

You can’t help but to start crying for the second time that day. Dean tears up a little too. “Baby I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you had to see that happen to me.”

“I knew it had to be you calling. I was right.” You both pull back into the hug.

The three of you sit down to talk about what happened. Dean asks where Sam is, and you have to explain how he left you with no warning and you had to come here. He can’t even believe it. Bobby explains the last few months and that in the morning we can start looking for Sam again.

In the meantime, Dean takes a shower and eats an actual meal. Bobby tells him that he can either take the couch or share a bed with you. He chooses the latter.

You and Dean get in the bed and it’s still a shock that your oldest brother is right here in front of you. You lay on his chest and take a deep breath. Months ago, he wouldn’t let you come close to him if he was tired, but he thinks that tonight and possibly the next few weeks could be an exception.

“Y/N, we’re going to fix all this. I’ll make sure of it. We’re gonna find Sam, we’re gonna figure out who brought me back, and I’m going to make sure you never have to go through this again. I promise.”

“I can’t believe you're actually back. I’ve been praying for this for months.” You yawned. It’s been a long day and you both were quickly falling asleep. “I missed you.”

“I know you did kid. I missed you so much.”

[winniewritesstories]

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

[imbadatwrighting]

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.

[winchesterdefender]

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.

[deanspunchingbag]

so you are gonna sit there and tell me claire doesn't just show up to the bunker at random times. sometimes covered in blood, sometimes yelling about needing help getting rid of a body, and sometimes just because she hasn't had a lead in a couple days and got bored. she makes jokes like 'it's giving daddy issues' and the boys get so mad because they cannot understand what the hell she is trying to say. that's usually followed by an old man joke, and cas saying something like 'having a difficult relationship with your father is probably the reason you tend to respond with violence over compassion'

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

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:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

[redbird-tf]

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”

[inlovewhithafairytale]

POV: The Winchester's have a little sister