#me begging my sister to take a picture of me with the soup ladle at the stove like 'itll be hilarious i promise'

[danganronpa2]

happy halloween

[abusybuzzingbee]

Wendigo | Supernatural Season 1 Episode 2 Rewrite | Dean x Reader

A/N::: This is another reupload from my previous account under the same @. I hope you newcomers enjoy!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Major Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester

Warnings: Canon level violence, language, Dean and the reader being assholes to each other

Word Count: 7,380

Summary: Post-Dean and the reader’s first big blowout fight, they’re still at each other’s throats, much to the disgruntlement of Sam.

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Season 1 Masterlist

You were sound asleep in the back of the Impala when you were rudely awakened by Dean slamming down on the car’s horn. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as you blinked at the blinding sunlight. You slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes as Dean chuckled. 

“Morning, sunshine.”

“Fuck you.”

 Dean looked at you in the rearview mirror. “Aw, somebody’s grumpy.”

“I wouldn’t be if you would wake me up like a normal person.”

“But that’s not as fun,” he pouted. You could see a slight smirk tugging at his lips in the rearview mirror. 

“Asshole.”

“Bitch.”

“Guys,” Sam sighed. He turned to you. “You just woke up and you’re already fighting with him?”

“Yeah, Madelyn, take a joke,” Dean sneered like a bratty child.

“We’ll see how funny you think the joke is when I wake you up by banging pots and pans in your ears.”

“You don’t have pots and pans.”

“I’ll buy some just for the occasion, then.”

“Guys!” Sam shouted over you two.

“Sorry,” you muttered, lying back down across the smooth leather of the bench seat. 

“Nuh-uh,” Dean told you, stealing another glance at you in the rearview mirror, “Up. We’re almost there.”

“Where’s there?”

“Ranger’s station just outside of Blackwater RIdge,” Sam answered for his brother.

“Ranger’s station?”

“Uh, that’s what he just said,” Dean cut in.

“Fuck off, Dean. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, he does, he’s just being an ass. Blackwater Ridge is in the middle of a forest.”

“Oh...” you trailed off. “And your dad would be there because...?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “If we knew, we wouldn’t be out here, would we?”

You scoffed. You didn’t want to admit that he was right.

***

You and the boys walked into the Lost Creek Ranger’s Station. You took in the various pictures of dead grizzly bears and their hunters adorning the walls, as well as the giant three-dimensional map in the center of the room. In the far right corner stood a desk, and to the left of that desk was a hallway that led to other rooms in the station. 

Sam immediately took interest in the three-dimensional map, speaking as he looked over it. “So Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote.” You watched as he hovered his pointer and index finger over the map, pointing at the different physical features as he spoke about them. “It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place.”

“Dude, check out the size of this freaking bear,” Dean called to his brother from behind you and Sam. You turned, seeing Dean focused on one of the many pictures of the grizzlies with their hunter.

“Would it kill you to focus for a second?” you deadpanned. 

You heard Dean take in a breath to respond, but he was cut off by a voice coming from behind you. 

“You kids aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?”

Startled, you whipped around to see a park ranger standing there.

The younger Winchester came up with a lie in a flash. “Oh, no, sir, we're environmental study majors from UC Boulder, just working on a paper.”

Dean grinned and raised a fist. “Recycle, man.”

‘What the fuck, Dean.’

“Bull.”

‘Ha,’ you thought, ‘I knew he wouldn’t buy it.’

“You're friends with that Haley girl, right?”

You stepped out in front of the two boys. “Yeah, sorry about all this.”

“It’s no trouble,” the ranger replied. “But I’ll tell you exactly what we told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it?”

You shook your head. 

“You tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother's just fine.”

“We will,” you told him.

The older Winchester spoke up from behind you as he moved to stand by your right side. “That Haley girl's quite a pistol, huh?”

The ranger chuckled. “That is putting it mildly.”

“Actually you know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother's return date.”

The ranger eyed Dean curiously but ended up giving him the paper nonetheless.

The three of you walked out of the ranger’s station, Dean holding the permit and laughing to himself. 

“What, are you cruising for a hookup or something?” Sam questioned his brother pointedly.

“What do you mean?”

“The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for? Let's just go find Dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?” Sam pressed.

Dean stopped on the opposite of the Impala from you and Sam, placing his hands on the hood of the car. “I don't know, maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it?” Dean watched his brother strangely.

“What?”

“Since when are you all shoot first ask questions later, anyway?”

“Since now.” And with that, Sam opened the door and slid into the car. 

“Really?” Dean asked more to himself than anything, shaking his head.

***

You rapped your knuckles against the door of the Collins house. When a pretty girl’s face appeared at the door, Dean swept you to the side with his arm, stepping in front of you. 

“Hey!” you exclaimed. 

Dean ignored you, speaking over your small exclamation. “You must be Haley Collins. I'm Dean, this is Sam, that’s (Y/N), we're rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. He wanted us to ask a few questions about your brother Tommy.”

Haley studied you all carefully, hesitating. “Lemme see some ID,” she finally said.

Dean pulled out his fake ID and held it up to the screen door. The brunette examined it closely, her eyes flicking from the card to Dean. She opened the door a moment later. “Come on in.”

“Thanks,” you told her. 

As the door swung open, you noticed Haley checking out the Impala. 

“That yours?” she asked Dean.

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“Nice car.”

Haley turns to lead you three into her home. You watched Dean as he mouthed, ‘Oh, my god,’ to Sam, who shook his head and rolled his eyes. 

“If all he does is eye-fuck her this whole hunt, I’m gonna scream,” you whispered to the younger Winchester as you walked into the Collins’ kitchen.

“Yeah, me too,” he whispered back.

You turned your attention from Sam to Haley, who grabbed a bowl off of the countertop. “So if Tommy's not due back for a while, how do you know something's wrong?”

Haley walked back to the table where a teenage boy sat playing mindlessly with his fork. She placed the soup bowl on the table. “He checks in every day by cell. He emails, photos, stupid little videos—we haven't heard anything in over three days now.”

“Well, maybe he can't get cell reception,” Sam proposed.

“He's got a satellite phone, too.”

“Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?” Dean questioned.

“He wouldn't do that,” the teenager snapped, surprising you. He looked down in embarrassment and grabbed the ladle out of the soup bowl.

Haley placed more dishes on the table. “Our parents are gone. It's just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other.”

“Can I see the pictures he sent you?” Sam asked her. 

“Yeah,” she answered. She grabbed her laptop and pulled up the pictures her brother sent her. 

“That’s Tommy,” she pointed out, gesturing to a young man with a bright smile on his face, sitting next to another guy you assumed to be a friend of his.

She clicked through another photo before stopping on the still frame of a video. She played the message for you and the boys. 

“Hey Haley, day six, we're still out near Blackwater Ridge. We're fine, keeping safe, so don't worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow,” Tommy told his sister.

You noticed something flick past in the background during Tommy’s speech. You turned your head to Sam, who seemed to have noticed it, too.

“Well,” the older Winchester started, “we'll find your brother. We're heading out to Blackwater Ridge first thing.”

“Then maybe I'll see you there,” she replied.

You quirked a brow at her.

“Look, I can't sit around here anymore. So I hired a guy. I'm heading out in the morning, and I'm gonna find Tommy myself.”

“I think I know how you feel,” Dean told her. He was watching her closely.

‘Damn, he’s really going for it,’ you thought. 

“Hey, do you mind forwarding these to me?” Sam asked Haley.

“Sure.” 

***

“You wanna talk about me whoring around with my puppy-dog eyes,” you scoffed as you and the boys walked back to the car after exiting the Collins’s house.

“What?” Dean questioned. 

“She’s hot, you obviously were trying to get in her pants in there,” you shrugged. You did your best impersonation of Dean’s voice. “All, ‘I know how you feel,’ and shit.” 

The three of you got into the car. 

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). We dished that out two weeks ago. And I’m just sympathizing with her, not trying to hook up with her.” Dean started up the car, pulling it away from the front of the Collins’s house. 

“I’m sure,” you deadpanned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know.” You crossed your arms and stared out of the window, slumping down in your seat. 

“God, you are such a bitch.”

“And you’re a dick.”

“Know-it-all.”

“Man whore.”

“Guys, enough,” Sam begged.

The car went silent. 

***

You were sat next to Sam opposite Dean at a table within a dingy bar. Activity swarmed all around you. Busty waitresses carried trays, guys were going after their flavor of the week, and the buzz of talking and laughing in the building never stopped. 

You took a sip of your beer as Sam spoke. “So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic. Local campers, mostly. But still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found.” 

“Any before that?” you asked.

The younger Winchester pulled newspaper articles from his dad’s journal to show to you and Dean.

“Yeah,” the brunet started, “in 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack--” Sam pulled out his laptop, “--And again in 1959 and again before that in 1936.” He opened his laptop which already had the window of Tommy’s video pulled up. “Every twenty-three years, just like clockwork. Okay. Watch this. Here's a clincher. I downloaded that guy Tommy's video to the laptop. Check this out.” He clicked through the three frames in which you saw the shadow appear earlier one by one.

“Do it again,” Dean told his brother, his brow furrowing in concentration.

Sam did so. “That's three frames.”

“That's a fraction of a second,” you noted.

Sam nodded. “Whatever that thing is, it can move.”

Dean smacked his brother on the arm. “Told you something weird was going on.”

“Hey, check this out,” you told them, looking down at the newspaper in front of you. “In 'fifty-nine one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid. Barely crawled out of the woods alive.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow at you. “Is there a name?”

***

Mr. Shaw led you and the boys through his cluttered, dark house. He had one lamp on in his living room, glowing dimly and doing nothing to illuminate the room. The only reason you could see anything was the moonlight streaming in from the window.

The old man spoke around the cigarette hanging from his lips, his voice gravelly. “Look, ranger, I don't know why you're asking me about this. It's public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a—”

“Grizzly? That's what attacked them?” Sam interrupted. 

Mr. Shaw took another puff of his cigarette and nodded.

“The other people that went missing that year, those bear attacks too?” Dean spoke up. 

Mr. Shaw hesitated.

“What about all the people that went missing this year? Same thing?”

Another momentary silence filled the room.

“If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it,” Dean pressed further. 

“I seriously doubt that,” the old man shook his head. “Anyways, I don't see what difference it would make.” Mr. Shaw sat down in his plaid-printed chair. “You wouldn't believe me. Nobody ever did.”

“Try me,” you told him, your voice gentle. “What did you see?”

“Nothing. It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar. Like...no man or animal I ever heard,”  he told you.

“It came at night?” Sam asked.

The old man nodded. 

“Got inside your tent?”

“It got inside our cabin,” Mr. Shaw said, his face changing as he recollected the event. “I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break the door. It unlocked it.”

You quirked a brow.

“Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn't even wake up till I heard my parents screaming.”

“It killed them?” you asked.

“Dragged them off into the night.” Mr. Shaw shook his head. “Why it left me alive...been asking myself that ever since.” The man wrapped his hand around his collar. “Did leave me this, though.” He pulled the collar down to reveal three gigantic claw marks. They looked like they had cut deep, as the scars were wide and raised above his skin. “There's something evil in those woods. It was some sort of a demon.”

***

You walked behind Dean and Sam down the hallway of your motel. Doors lined the dark, wooden walls. 

You were only half-listening to Dean and Sam’s conversation as you tried to figure out what the creature was. 

“Spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors. If they want inside, they just go through the walls,” Dean stated. 

“So it's probably something else, something corporeal.”

“Corporeal? Excuse me, professor.”

“Shut up. So what do you think?”

“The claws, the speed that it moves...could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog. Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature, and it's corporeal. Which means we can kill it.”

‘No, no, can’t be a skinwalker. The scar would’ve had four claw marks. Not to mention, puppy claws can’t cut that deep. Same thing with the black dogs,’ you thought as you completely tuned whatever the two brothers were talking about as you three walked outside. ‘Three long-ass claws, ridiculously fast, drags victims off to god knows where, left the little kid alive. Left the little kid alive... kid has less meat on his bones, parents will sustain him. Sustain... every twenty-three years... keeps food at the ready for twenty-three years til he needs more... drags ‘em off into the night...’ You stopped next to the boys by the Impala, still deep in thought as you stared off into space. ‘Too fast to see--’

Sam’s voice brought you out of your thoughts. “We cannot let that Haley girl go out there.”

Dean was loading guns and other weapons from the trunk into an army green duffel bag. “Oh yeah? What are we gonna tell her? That she can't go into the woods because of a big scary monster?”

“Yeah,” Sam stated as if it was obvious.

Dean gave an incredulous look to his younger brother. “Her brother's missing, Sam.” 

You reached into the trunk and grabbed two flare guns. 

“She's not gonna just sit this out-- (Y/N), hands to yourself,” he commanded, giving you a hard glare. “Now we go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend.” 

“Finding Dad’s not enough?” Sam questioned.

You continued rifling through the trunk and loading things you thought were useful into the bag as Sam spoke. “Now we gotta babysit too?”

Dean neglected to answer Sam’s question as he turned to you. His conversationalist tone he used with Sam completely shifted to hard as he spoke to you. “(Y/N), I thought I told you to stay outta my shit.”

“I’m helping,” you threw back at him. 

“No, you’re not, you’re pissing me off.”

“Well, I think I have a better idea of what the monster is then you do, and you’re picking up the wrong damn weapons. So, yes, I’m helping.”

“And what exactly do you think we’re dealing with?”

“A wendigo.”

“Right, because those are only up in the Minnesota woods, or Michigan, even. They’re not out this far west.” He spoke down to you, and you did not like that at all.

“First of all, I’m not a dumbass, so don’t treat me like one. Second of all, I thought about that. But what else makes claw marks like that? Or moves that fast? Or drags its victims off before killing them?”

Dean went to say something in retaliation, but he seemed to realize you might be right, even though he would never admit it. He turned away from you, shaking his head as he zipped up the duffel bag and slammed the trunk shut. “The two of you, man.” He walked off, but not before chucking the duffel bag at Sam. 

You stared after Dean for a moment before shaking your head and stomping off to your own motel room. 

***

You were slumped in the backseat, arms folded as you stared out of the window of the Impala’s backseat. You chomped down on some mint-flavored gum, enjoying listening to the music that played through the car.

“Can you stop chewing your gum like that?” Dean asked, aggravation clear in his voice.

Truly, you were not being that obnoxious with your gum chewing. Dean just wanted to get pissed at you for something, apparently. Out of spite, you chewed your gum a little louder, making sure your lips smacked together with every chew.

“Mature,” Dean deadpanned. You smirked at him in the rearview mirror.

He parked the car near the place where two other cars were parked. You noticed Haley and the teenage boy standing with another guy. Haley shook her head, clearly disappointed to see the three of you.

You grabbed your duffel bag off the floor of the backseat. You tossed the one for the Winchester brothers to Sam.

“You guys got room for three more?” you heard Dean ask the other group as you shut the back door of the Impala. 

“Wait, you want to come with us?” Haley inquired.

The older man that you assumed was the guy Haley hired was the next to ask a question. “Who are these guys?”

“Apparently, this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue,” Haley deadpanned.

“You're rangers?” the guy asked.

“That's right,” Dean nodded.

“And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?” Haley pressed.

Dean looked himself over. “Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts.” Dean walked past Haley over to Sam, who had passed all of you to get a look at the forest. 

“What, you think this is funny?” the older man snapped. “It's dangerous backcountry out there. Her brother might be hurt.”

Dean turned back to the guide. “Believe me, I know how dangerous it can be. We just wanna help them find their brother, that's all.”

***

Your pack trekked on through the dense trees over dead, fallen leaves that covered the forest floor. You brought up the rear of the group, just behind Sam. Haley and her brother-- whose name you still did not know-- were in front of Sam and behind the other Winchester brother. The older man, whose name you discovered was Roy, led the group.

You noticed Dean and Roy having somewhat of a tense conversation, but did not bother paying close enough attention to their chat to hear what it was about. However, things got interesting for you when Roy grabbed Dean roughly by the arm. 

You watched Roy as he picked up a stick and poked at something on the ground that turned out to be a bear trap.

“You should watch where you're stepping. Ranger.”

You snickered at Roy’s comment.

“It's a bear trap,” Dean announced to the rest of you.

You shook your head, rolling your eyes as you did so. 

You continued your walk as you saw Haley jog up to Dean, who walked a few paces ahead. She spoke in a hushed tone, and you didn’t hear her from how far back you were. She grabbed his arm and spun him around to get him to stop walking.

Dean indicated to Sam to keep walking, so you followed Sam forward. You hummed to yourself as you kept going. You loved music, and so did your mother. She, like you, had a lovely singing voice. The two of you used to sing together when you were little. You were humming one of her favorites, “Dream a Little Dream of Me” by Ella Fitzgerald. 

“Hey, princess!” Dean called to you from a few paces behind. “Keep the humming for when we’re not being hunted by something that finds us by sound.”

“And you yelling at me isn’t gonna attract it?” you called back over your shoulder.

‘Dick,’ you thought.

“This is it. Blackwater Ridge,” Roy announced up ahead.

Sam asked about the coordinates, and as it turns out, they matched the ones John had sent to the brothers. 

Dean walked up to his younger brother, and you followed. “You hear that?” he asked Sam.

“Yeah. Not even crickets.”

“I'm gonna go take a look around,” Roy told the rest of your group.

“You shouldn't go off by yourself,” Sam warned him.

“That's sweet. Don't worry about me.” He waved his gun around to display it, pushing between you and Sam to get back in the lead of the group.

“All right, everybody stays together. Let's go,” Dean commanded.

After a few more minutes of walking, your group decided to have a look around. You noticed drag marks in the dirt, following them to the tattered remnants of a campsite. The tents had been torn open, one of them splattered with blood. Backpacks were destroyed, supplies scattered all over the place, and things from within the tent, like sleeping bags, ended up in pieces on the ground. 

“Haley?” you called to her.

She rushed over to you, letting out a breath when she saw the scene. 

“Oh my God.”

“Looks like a grizzly,” Roy said.

“Tommy?” Haley threw her backpack down and ran across the campsite, calling for her brother.

Sam shushed her, but she kept yelling Tommy’s name.

He shushed her again, a bit of bite to his tone.

“Why?”

“Something might still be out there.”

“Sam.” You pulled him away from Haley.

“Yeah?”

“I followed tracks in the dirt to find the camp. I assume those were made by the bodies when they got dragged away.”

Haley caught your attention when you saw her crying out of the corner of your eye. She had what you assumed was Tommy’s cell phone in her hand. 

Dean walked over to her, crouching down next to her. “Hey,” he said gently, “he could still be alive.”

‘It’s amazing how sweet he is with everyone else but me.’

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a man’s voice yelling for help. His voice was gravelly, almost raw from shouting.

Roy ran after the voice.

You grabbed Dean’s arm before he could run after the rest of the group.

“Dean, I don’t think that’s a--”

He shrugged you off of him, running after Sam and the rest of the pack anyway.

‘Dick.’

You decided it was best for you not to be alone while a wendigo was on the loose, so you opted for running after the others. 

“It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn't it?” Haley asked as you reached your group. They were looking around for the source of the voice but found nothing. 

“Everybody back to camp,” you ordered.

You were the first to reach the campsite, noticing yours and Dean’s duffel bags missing, as well as Haley’s and Roy’s backpacks.

“Our packs!” Haley groaned.

“So much for my GPS and my satellite phone,” Roy commented.

“What the hell is going on?” Haley questioned.

“It's smart,” you informed them. “It wants to cut us off so we can't call for help.”

“You mean someone, some nutjob out there just stole all our gear,” Roy challenged.

“No, Roy, I mean ‘it,’“ you responded.

You grabbed Sam and Dean’s arms, pulling them away from the others. “I need to talk to you guys.”

“Fine,” Dean said, “but I can walk on my own.” He yanked his arm out of your grip.

“Now,” you started once you got a safe distance away from the others, “I’m not gonna say I told you so...” you trailed off.

“Fuck off, (Y/N).” He turned to Sam, raising his pistol in the air. “Well, then this is useless.”

“Yeah,” you started, pulling a flare gun out of the back of your jeans, “but this isn’t.”

“Is that mine?” Dean asked.

“Yup,” you stated, popping the ‘p.’

“I thought I told you to stay outta my shit.”

“And I thought I told you that I knew what we were hunting. But ya didn’t listen to me then, did you? So why should I listen to you?”

“Gimme that,” Dean groaned, ripping the gun out of your hands.

“Hey!”

“We gotta get these people to safety,” Sam prompted, hoping to end the fighting.

You shoved Dean with your shoulder, and he shoved you back as you headed back to camp.

 “All right, listen up, it's time to go. Things have gotten...more complicated.”

Haley seemed slightly offended at the mere suggestion. “What?”

“Kid, don't worry,” Roy piped up. “Whatever's out there, I think I can handle it.”

“It's not me I'm worried about. If you shoot this thing, you're just gonna make it mad. We have to leave. Now,” Sam explained.

Roy stepped a little closer to Sam. “One, you're talking nonsense. Two, you're in no position to give anybody orders.”

“Relax,” you told the two men presently competing in a glare-off. 

“We never should have let you come out here in the first place, all right? I'm trying to protect you,” Sam pushed back.

The older man got right up into Sam’s face. “You protect me?” he laughed. “I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you good night.”

“Yeah? It's a damn near perfect hunter. It's smarter than you, and it's gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get your stupid, sorry ass out of here.”

Roy laughed again, venom dripping from his tone. “You know you're crazy, right?”

“Yeah? You ever hunt a wen—” Dean shoved Sam away from Roy, silencing him.

Haley went after Roy, trying to calm him down. 

“Chill out, alright?” you told Sam.

“Stop. Stop it,” Haley demanded. “Everybody just stop. Look. Tommy might still be alive. And I'm not leaving here without him.”

A silence settled over all of you before Dean spoke up. “It's getting late. This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves.”

“How?” Haley questioned.

***

You were drawing Anasazi symbols in the dirt, using the dim firelight coming from behind you to see what you were doing in the dark of night. 

You noticed Sam sitting alone on a fallen tree by the edge of the campsite. Dean made a comment about Roy’s skepticism about your whole situation before heading over to Sam. They seemed to be having a deep conversation, so you left them alone for a little bit.

You stood at the sound of a twig snapping, reaching for the flare gun, only to remember that Dean had it.

‘Dick.’

“Help!” the wendigo cried.

"He's trying to draw us out,” Dean told everyone, “Just stay cool, stay put.”

“Inside the magic circle?” Roy questioned, tone filled to the brim with sarcasm as he scanned the tree line.

“Help! Help me!” it tried one more time. When it realized none of you were coming after it, it growled.

“Okay, that's no grizzly,” Roy finally admitted, pointing his gun at the sound.

Haley was attempting to keep her younger brother calm as something rushed through the bushes right behind her. She let out a shriek as Roy shot at the rustling. And then again, he shot.

“I hit it!” the older man exclaimed, running to see what he hit.

‘Coconuts and tobacco,’ you thought as the scents filled your nose. You sprinted after Roy, yelling for him to stop. 

“It's over here! It's in the tree!” he yelled. 

You got there just in time to see the wendigo reach down for Roy. You leaped into action, grabbing onto Roy’s foot as the wendigo began pulling Roy upwards. You planted your feet in the ground under the roots of the tree, pulling as hard as you could, but the wendigo gave a hard yank and pulled you off of the ground, too. You knew there was nothing more you could do for Roy, and due to the fact that Roy hadn’t been screaming during that tug-of-war session, you assumed he was dead.

You dropped to the ground, landing flat on your ass. 

Dean and Sam ran up just as you stood up and dusted your pants off. 

“It would’ve helped if I would’ve had the damn flare gun just now, Dean,” you scolded him. “I could’ve killed it and saved Roy, too.”

Sam figured another argument was about to ensue, so he went back to the camp to check on Haley and Ben. 

“Well, maybe don’t be so reliant on me to have all of your guns for you. Get your own damn flare gun, and stay outta my stuff,” he threw back.

“Why does it matter to you so much? We’re a team now, we work together. Basically, we all have joint custody over each others’ weapons,” you argued.

“No,” Dean said gruffly, “we are not a team. You... are a stowaway. I don’t even know why you’re here! You don’t know our dad. Hell, you barely know us.”

“I stuck around because I cared and I wanted to help! You’re an asshole, but Sam’s my friend. So forgive me if I’m just trying to be supportive of someone who’s just lost his girlfriend.”

“Whose death you seemed to have predicted. I’m not ruling out the possibility that you didn’t somehow kill her.”

“Kill her? Are you hearing yourself right now, Dean? I was with you and Sam the whole time, how could I have killed her?” You stared at him incredulously as he ran a hand through his hair.

“How the hell else would you have known to turn the car around before Sam’s apartment got deep-fried?”

“First of all, that’s none of your business. Second of all, I had nothing to do with Jessica’s death.”

“I think it is my business,” he stated firmly, stepping closer to you.

“Too bad, dickhead. Let’s head back to camp before we kill each other.” You sidestepped him, storming away. 

***

You refused to sleep that night, too busy keeping watch over the camp and too uncomfortable to sleep inside one of the destroyed tents like the rest of your crew did. It felt disrespectful to you. 

You hugged your knees, resting your head on top of them against a tree near the outskirts of the “magic circle” as Roy had called it.

‘Roy.’

You felt so guilty for his death. He was a douchebag, but you still didn’t want him to die. 

‘If only Dean wasn’t a dickbag and let me keep the gun, Roy would be alive right now.’

You stood up, pacing around the area, trying to keep yourself awake. You yawned, rubbing a hand over your eyes.

“Why don’t you get some sleep,” Dean murmured in your ear.

You inhaled sharply, jumping away from him. “Dammit, Dean,” you breathed. “You scared the shit outta me.”

“I meant to.” You could see the smirk on his face barely illuminated by the pale moonlight shining through the trees. 

“You’re a dick, and I’m fine. I can’t sleep in those tents.”

“Well, sorry we don’t have a cabin for you, princess,” Dean sassed.

"It’s not about a cabin, Dean. It’s about the fact that the people who used to sleep in them might be dead,” you responded. 

A silence fell between the two of you.

“Well if you’re not gonna sleep, I am,” he told you, for the first time since you had met him speaking without an edge to his voice. He walked back over to the tents. 

‘What a weird dude.’

***

Morning came around, all of your group members minus Roy assembled in the clearing. You were dog tired, but you needed to power through the day. You sat next to Sam beneath the same tree you occupied last night, leaning your head back against its trunk. Sam held his dad’s journal in his hand, pulling at a lanyard attached to it. 

You were watching Haley, Dean, and Ben having a conversation about the wendigo and its origins when Sam spoke up.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asked you.

“No,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut.

Sam shook his head, chuckling at you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know you weren’t asleep either.” You rolled your head toward him.

He turned to look at you.

“I could hear you tossing and turning all night.”

Sam looked back down, playing with the lanyard again. “C’mon,” he finally said softly, “we should get going.”

He stood, extending his hand to pull you up.  You gladly took it, walking over to Dean and the Collinses. 

You noticed an empty beer bottle, a white cloth, and a lighter among the supplies scattered about the camp. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“Well, since you staked your claim over the flare gun, I get a Molotov cocktail.”

“Bringin’ that up again are we?” Exasperation was clear in his tone.

“Mm-hmm.” You shoved the cloth into the mouth of the bottle.

“Guys--” Sam butted in. “Focus, please.”

“I am focused!” you protested. “And productive. See?” You held up the lighter and the cocktail. 

“Impressive. You put a towel in a bottle.”

“You know what, Winchester--”

“Will the both of you stop?” You and Dean turned to look at Haley. “We gotta find Tommy. Now let’s go.”

The five of you started off, heading in the direction of the drag marks. They circled around the camp and stopped deeper into the woods. You and Dean walked side by side at first, before you noticed how close the two of you were. You sped up your walk, getting slightly ahead of him. Dean noticed what you were doing and walked in front of you, too. The two of you got angrier with each time one passed the other, and you noticed the two of you were leading the group. Everyone else had just let you through. You spotted something out of the corner of your eye, your angry expression softening. 

“Claw marks,” you noted, looking at the bloody ones on the tree in front of you.

“Yeah, no shit,” Dean chided.

“Dean--”

“Okay,” Sam said, dragging out the ‘o.’ 

You and Dean glared at each other but kept moving through the forest behind Sam.

A few minutes of walking had passed when you heard a chomping noise coming from behind you. You turned around to see Dean holding his bag of peanut M&Ms.

“Seriously?” you questioned monotonously.

“What?” he asked, mouth full of the chocolate candies. You slowed your walk, getting side-by-side with him.

“You’ve just had that the whole time and didn’t bother telling me?” You reached for the bag, but Dean snatched it away. “Hey!”

“Hands off my stuff.” He popped a few more into his mouth. “I think we've had a conversation about that before.”

“You sound like a grumpy old grandpa.”

“Dean,” Sam called, getting his attention.

Dean caught up to Sam, and you followed close behind. 

“What is it?” the older Winchester questioned.

Dean and Sam looked around the clearing you were in at all of the bloody claw prints marking the trees.

“You know, I was thinking, those claw prints, so clear and distinct. They were almost too easy to follow.”

A grin spread across your face as you snatched the bag of M&Ms out of the arms of a distracted Dean.

“Hey!”

You laughed, shoving a few in your mouth. You were silenced by a growl coming from above you. You held your Molotov cocktail in one hand and your lighter in the other, the bag of candy now tucked under your arm. 

You pulled your eyes from the tree leaves when Haley shrieked. You turned around and saw her scrambling to her feet and Roy’s body on the ground. 

Dean bent down and looked Roy over. “His neck's broke.”

A growl came from directly behind you. 

You sprinted further into the woods, yelling for the others to follow your lead. You took the M&Ms from under your arm before they fell, holding those in your left hand and the cocktail and lighter in your right.  

You turned your head around to check for the rest of your group, but you saw only Haley a few paces behind you. You did a double-take, yelling for Sam, when you slammed into something hard. You fell flat on your back, looking up into the face of the Wendigo. 

Haley screamed as the Wendigo grabbed you both, one in each hand. It had you by your leg, and you had managed to hold onto the M&Ms but not the cocktail when you fell. You ripped the bag all the way open with your teeth, dropping the candies as the Wendigo sprinted through the woods. You lifted your head up to see a miner’s cave a little ways off in the distance before the Wendigo carelessly rammed your head into a tree, knocking you out cold. 

***

“(Y/N)?”

You could barely hear Dean’s voice through the haze that seemed to cloud your senses.

“(Y/N)? Wake up.” 

You opened your eyes, blinking a few times. You noticed Dean’s hands on either side of your face, slightly squishing your cheeks together.

“Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?” you let out, your voice a little deeper and gravelly. 

“I am not short,” Dean grumbled as he began cutting you down.

Despite your still foggy state of mind, you found it within yourself to go through another argument with Dean. “Oh, come on, Dean. It’s a Star Wars reference--” Dean helped you down, tossing your arm over his shoulder. “--Don’t take it so seriously. And I can walk on my own, thank you.” You ripped your arm out of his grip, immediately stumbling as you took your first step.

“No, you can’t.” The older Winchester grabbed you again, putting your arm back around his shoulders. 

You groaned in pain as Dean set you down against the wall of the cave. 

“You okay?” Sam asked you.

“Yep. Yep. All good,” you groaned, trying to sound convincing. “Where is it?”

“He's gone for now,” Sam told you.

“Cut him down!” you heard Haley order. You looked over to see her standing next to Tommy, who was hanging from a meat hook by his wrists like you were. 

Sam and Dean rushed to help Tommy. 

You rolled your head to the side to see your group’s bags sitting in the corner. 

“Sweet,” you muttered, instantly perking up. You crawled over to them, grabbing yours and standing.

“Dean come get your shit since you don’t want me touching it.”

“Not a good time for this, (Y/N),” Dean sighed.

“Well if I would’ve touched it, you would’ve started the fight.”

He rolled his eyes at you, picking up his bag while Ben and Haley helped their brother walk. 

“Dean, can I pretty please with sugar on top borrow a flare gun?” you asked, dramatically batting your eyes at him.

“Fine,” he grumbled. He dug around for the other one you had packed in his bag, handing it to you when he found it. 

“Wow. Didn’t think you’d actually give it to me.”

“I hope you know how to use that thing.”

“Oh, puh-lease, I learned to use a gun before I learned my ABC’s.”

Dean shook his head. “Let’s just go.”

Your pack traveled down the mine train corridor, fear filling all of your hearts when a growl came from somewhere within the mine.

“Looks like someone's home for supper,��� Dean commented.

“We'll never outrun it,” Haley stated.

Dean looked back at his brother. “You thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he sighed.

“Uh, he is, but I’m not,” you piped up.

Dean ignored you. “All right, listen to me. Stay with (Y/N) and Sam. They’re gonna get you out of here."

“What are you gonna do?” Haley questioned.

Dean winked at her and started walking. “Chow time, you freaky bastard!” he yelled. “Yeah, that's right, bring it on, baby, I taste good.”

You could hear him continuing to yell, but he was too far away at that point to make out what he was saying.

“All right, come on! Hurry!” Sam urged, leading the Collinses down the tunnel.

You got behind the family, your back facing Tommy’s, pointing your flare gun down the tunnel. 

You heard growling coming from within the mine. 

“Get him outta here,” you ordered Haley and Ben.

“(Y/N), no,” Haley protested.

“Go! Go! Go!” Sam pushed them.

“Come on, Haley!”

Her younger brother’s words finally got the brunette to leave and continue helping Tommy limp down the mine corridor.

You were poised to shoot, staring down into the darkness of the mine shaft. “Come on, you bitch,” you muttered under your breath.

The monster crept up from the shadows, catching you off-guard. You still landed a solid shot with the flare gun, watching the monster go up in flames. 

You scrunched your nose in disgust at the smell of its burning flesh but took satisfaction in watching the son of a bitch disappear. 

When all that remained of the wendigo were ashes, you could see Dean standing opposite you in the corridor.

“And you didn’t wanna trust me with a flare gun,” you commented, smiling proudly.

“Can it, (Y/N).”

***

You observed the scene around you as the EMT before you tended to your brush burns and cuts.

Sam and Ben were talking to the police, describing the “grizzly attack” they had just experienced.

Dean was leaning on the hood of his car and Haley stood in front of him. At one point in their conversation, Haley kissed Dean’s cheek, making a wide grin spread across his face. 

Sam came up behind Haley with Ben, and she put her arm around her younger brother’s shoulders. She said something to Sam before yelling to you, “Thanks (Y/N)!”

You nodded at her, smiling. 

“You’re all good,” the EMT said to you.

“Thank you so much.”

You walked over to the Impala.

“Man, I hate camping,” you heard Dean say as you got closer to the two brothers.

“Me too,” the younger of the two responded.

“Me three.”

The ambulance carrying the Collinses drove away behind you, its sirens blaring through the quiet of the night.

“Sam,” the older Winchester started, “you know we're gonna find Dad, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” He paused. “But in the meantime? I'm driving.”

Dean tossed his brother the keys.

“Aw, man. I wanted a turn,” you whined.

“Uh-uh, missy. It’s taken twenty-two years for him to let me drive. You got a long ways to go,” the younger of the two brothers smirked.

“Damn.” You climbed into the backseat, feigning hurt. “Someday.”

“How ‘bout ‘never,’” Dean quipped.

“I like ‘someday’ better.”

“Well, it’s not happening, so you can forget it--”

“Guys!”

Tags are open! Feedback is always appreciated!

Series Rewrite Tags:

@rach5ive​ @ppeachygemss​

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Those Who Fall: “APTF” Story (Modern Domestic Stucky AU)

Six:

Arriving home, Steve let out a long sigh and headed straight for the master bedroom. Plopping face-first on the king size bed, Steve let out an annoyed groan. He had been there for two hours and only one parent had seen him. And she wasn't even there to talk about her daughter!

Sighing again, Steve pushed himself off the bed and stripped from his white button down. Choosing to exchange his navy-blue slacks for a pair of black joggers, he made a reminder that to do laundry later. Deciding he needed more comfort than just cozy clothes, he took one of Bucky's sweatshirts, a gray one with the graphic of, The Evolution of an Architecture Student, and tugged it on over his head, mussing his blond hair in the process.

Pushing the sleeves up to his elbows, Steve headed upstairs to the main level of the house. Loving how full of life the space was. Holly in her play-pen speaking baby gibberish. Cartoons on the TV, Steve followed behind the couch to press a kiss to Sophia's and Ethan's heads, all the while continuing. Crossing through the dining room until he entered the kitchen where Bucky was cleaning up.

The heavenly aroma of Great Grandma Rosa's vegetable beef soup filled the air and Steve closed his eyes as he breathed it in. It was one of the recipes that the pair had inherited when they moved in together. It was one of the most cherished recipes either made, and Bucky always made it best.

"How were the conferences?"

Steve opened his eyes and crossed the room. Looping his arms around Bucky's waist, he rested his forehead to the taller man's back and complained, "One parent. That's all, and it wasn't even a conference. All she did was hit on me and then cry when she saw your picture on my desk."

"Oof," Bucky chuckled under his breath. Lovingly, he brought Steve's left hand up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the finger with the rings that Bucky gave to him over the years. "Glad you let her down gently."

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head. Taking another smell of the air, he changed the subject, "You made soup?"

"I did," Bucky confirmed, turning his head to look over at the stove where a large pot of soup was. "Figured you'd want some comfort food tonight."

"You thought right," Steve pressed a kiss to the middle of his shoulder blades and turned to get himself something to eat.

Before he could divvy a portion out for himself though, a car pulled into their driveway. Crossing over to look out the window, he found a rusted red sedan driven by a teen brunette. In the passenger seat was a boy with shaggy brown hair. As the back passenger door opened, the teens in the front turned back to talk to Luke, Steve assumed.

Sure enough, the boy climbed out of the car and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Closing the door, he took a step back and waved as the car backed up. Pausing briefly, she flashed a wide grin and honked the horn.

"She's cute," Bucky commented, standing behind his husband.

Steve nodded, agreeing, "That's probably why he has a crush on her."

For a moment, the pair stood there, looking out the window watching their son wave at the girl who dropped him off. However, Luke must've realized they'd be watching because he glanced up at the second story window, catching them.

Quickly, the couple jumped back from the window and tried to play nonchalance. Steve ladled out some of the soup for himself and made a mess when Luke entered from the deck door. Trying to soothe his racing heart, he grabbed a sponge and started wiping the counter.

"Did you eat?" Steve asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Luke's eyes widened and he glanced between his dads as he crossed his arms along his chest, "Are we just not going to talk about how you two were spying?!"

"We weren't spying," Bucky playfully rolled his eyes.

Steve rolled his eyes at his husband and clarified to Luke, "We heard the car and were curious about your band friends."

The teen glanced between the two a couple of times. After a moment, he sighed and pulled out a stool as he took a seat at the island. "I’m starving. Marching band was beyond tiring."

"Yeah, but at least we know you'll put on a good performance," Bucky smiled.

Placing a bowl of the infamous soup in front of the fifteen year old, Steve assured, "Your dad's right, you guys are gonna be great."

A red hue took up on the apples of Luke's dark brown cheeks as he ducked his head to eat the soup. Grabbing another bowl, Steve started filling it for himself, and just took a moment to breathe in that glorious aroma. Especially as he carried it around the island to take a seat next to Luke.

Gathering a large spoonful, Steve happily began stuffing his face. Not realizing how hungry he was until that moment. However, that was the moment when his phone started ringing. Pulling it from the jogger pockets, he was about to decline the call until he spotted the caller ID.

Chewing as quickly as possible, he knew that he wouldn't be able to answer it in time. And considering Maria Hill only called in regards to kids who needed a place to stay, Steve passed the phone over to Bucky. For a moment Bucky's brows furrowed until he, too, realized who was calling.

"Hello?" Bucky answered, "It's Bucky."

Swallowing the half-chewed food that wasn't nearly ready to be digested, Steve winced and stood from his stool. Bucky listened and occasionally nodded while adding, "right," and, "no, I get it." Steve gestured for the phone and was only vaguely aware that Luke was carrying his dinner out of the room.

"Maria, I'm gonna put you on speaker," Bucky informed before doing just that.

"As I was saying," Maria sounded apologetic, which was utterly ridiculous. "She needs a place to stay, and I know that you're both good with teens. So, would it be alright if she stayed with you. If only for a night?"

Steve vocalized the decision for them, "We'll be right there."

"I'll call Tibby," Bucky said, heading over to the charging dock and picking up his phone.

"I'm gonna change Holly; I'm sure that she's due for a fresh diaper."

Phone already pressed to his ear, Bucky nodded. As Steve rushed from the kitchen, he heard Bucky telling his youngest -- and closest in location -- sister that they needed her to watch the kids for them. Steve picked Holly up out of her play-pen and affectionately pressed kisses to her face while baby-talking, "Does someone need a new diapie?!"

Holly smiled and slobbered all over him. Steve's mind wandered to her possibly getting a new tooth as he carried her upstairs to the room she shared with Katie. When Katie was home, of course. Walking past the twin size bed, Steve laid the baby on the changing table.

"Would you like a new sister?" Steve happily asked.

Holly just cooed some more gibberish and Steve nodded as though he understood. She kicked her legs and chewed on her fist, but all-in-all it was a successful changing. Carrying her back downstairs, Steve playfully pretended that he was going to eat her tiny fist, earning giggles and even a squeal.

"Tibby said she'll be here soon," Bucky confirmed as Steve placed Holly back into the play-pen.

"Good," Steve nodded, righting himself and taking a moment to stretch a little bit further until his back delightfully cracked.

"So, we're getting a new sibling?" Luke questioned, leaning against the dining room doorway.

Steve shared a look with Bucky. If it was up to Steve, they'd foster and adopt every child that needed a loving home. Even if it was unrealistic. The pair had a completely silent conversation with quirked brows and slight shrugs. Being together as long as they had been together, they had gotten good at reading each other.

"Maybe," the pair answered in unison.

Averting his gaze, Luke nodded, but didn't say anything. Being one of the first kids that Steve and Bucky brought into their home, he was always hesitant to accept anyone else. Steve couldn't blame him, before Luke and Jonas had moved in with them, the younger of the two had been relentlessly bullied by the other foster children. And Steve hoped that Luke knew that no one would be bullied under their roof. Especially not by someone who cohabited under that roof.

"Okay, I'm here!" The twenty-three year old woman called out as she let herself in through the front door, "And I brought company!"

Turning to face the front of the house, Steve found not only Tibby but her beloved Golden Retriever, Thor, who excitedly led the way into the house. Instantly, Sophia and Ethan started loving on the large dog who happily accepted all the attention.

"Thanks, Tibs," Bucky said, appreciatively, crossing the room to give his youngest sister a hug.

"Don't mention it," Tibby smiled, giving his torso a squeeze before they both let go. "You know that I love the kids. Plus," Tibby crossed the living room to hug Steve, "I needed to see the best big bro in the history of ever."

Bucky feigned shock and annoyance at her joke, and Steve laughed into the embrace. Even Tibby was taller than him. Not by much, but enough to annoy him during pictures at the Barnes' childhood home. Besides, she was supposed to be the small one. The small one that Steve still thought of her as. The little girl who would beg him to color with her and accidentally break his crayons, and who would fall asleep in his arms to kid appropriate spooky movies.

It was always odd for his mind to first conjure up the face of the six year old he first met with the now twenty-three year old. Sure, she still had that cute Barnes' nose, even with the hoop hanging from her septum and the ring that looped around her right nostril. Sure, she still had those thick brown curls, even if they were colored a vibrant purple now. And while she was an adult, her heart had remained just as spirited as the day he met her.

"Thanks, Tibs," Steve briefly rested his head on her shoulder, "Really."

"Of course," Tibby reassured. Pulling out of the embrace, she gestured towards the door, "Now get outta here, so I can spend some much needed time with my nieces and nephews."

Playfully rolling his eyes, Steve took her advice by blowing the kids kisses on his way downstairs to the garage. Glad that he didn't need to say anything for Bucky to follow him. Also glad when the pair climbed into the car and Bucky immediately took his hand, lacing their fingers.