#millie wren is my roman empire and i can’t stop thinking about her

[wrenwinchester]

As much as I love the Jody is the boys real mom idea, I would just like to say, Jody was only 3 years older than Dean, and 7 years older than Sam. She’s more like their big sister who took care of them, took them in, and made sure they were taken care of. And especially in later seasons that’s how they seem. However, it’s also weird because of her thing with Bobby. So like. I don’t know I just. Anyway. It’s fine. I’m not sobbing as I watch season 12 episode 6 “celebrating the life of Asa Fox” as Jody acts more like a sister in the first half but later becomes more motherly, but also I think that’s just because of when the boys came into her life (right after she lost her son.) and I don’t know. I just… it’s fine.

And excuse me while I scream as Sam comforts his MOTHER and reassures her like Dean used to do when he was little. Like she’s a full grown adult, so why is she constantly acting like a baby. And also the fact that she just I don’t know man. Just Fuck Mary Winchester. And her antics. This, and the whole British Men of Letters thing.

Also. Straight up, the fact that Mary left her barely over 1 year old son to go “tie up loose ends” like how could you do that to any 1 year old, let alone your own kid. Like I know she left him with his dad, but still. Most moms I know have trouble leaving their own kid for more than a couple hours, let alone the potential weeks it would take to complete a hunt. Like, what did John think she was doing? Did she leave Dean with John, or someone else. Like. God. What the fuck is she doing.

Also, I’ve said before that Millie Wren doesn’t particularly like Mary, especially after the whole initial men of letters thing, she kind of despised her, still loves her, but doesn’t like her one bit. After the whole brainwashing thing, it just gets worse. Mary had to actually shoot her to get her to back down, she didn’t take her out, it was a leg shot or shoulder shot. But despite all that, she didn’t forget. She knew it wasn’t really her Mom, but seeing her mom shoot her with no remorse, even if it wasn’t a kill shot. Again, she forgave her. But still, it was hole after hole after hole put in her heart, killing her slowly. The grief she felt was immense, the pain and guilt of it all was a lot.

And yeah, of course Millie loves Mary, adores her even, but god does she hate her. The choices she made, the deal to save John, the deal that sealed her brothers’ fates as vessels for the divine, vessels for the apocalypse. And the fact that once she was back, she barely called or texted. She lied to them over and over again. Her decisions always served to better herself, her own life, but never seemed to help her kids. The people she claimed to love. The people she once died for.

This was supposed to be a short commentary on Jody and the boys, but here we are.

[wrenwinchester]

So, I get it. Truly, however. I raise you, a middle sister. Split evenly between the boys ages. Overly protective of her brothers, a decent mix of Dean’s loyalty to John, and Sam’s frustration towards John. Makes sure Dean is taken care of while still letting him take care of her. Helping with Sammy, and taking care of him. Understanding why John is the way he is, and understanding both Sam’s and Dean’s sides of things. So much so that she doesn’t know who she is if she isn’t trying to keep the peace. She understands both the older sibling mentality and the younger sibling mentality, while simultaneously not understanding how her brothers can’t understand the other’s position. And she has a thing for knives.

YES

I'm the older sister of 2 little siblings and seeing Sam and Dean like that really hurts me/gen

So I really wanted to read something comforting

[wrenwinchester]

Here is an unofficial and occasionally vague Christmas post about Millie and her brothers circa 1990-1991 when Sam gives Dean the Samulet. And about some other Christmas traditions.

Christmas

The Christmas after Millie turned ten went exactly how she expected it to. Sam, wrapped a gift from Uncle Bobby for Dad, as he constantly asked if Dad was coming back to the motel for Christmas. Dean of course lied to the kid, hoping he was right. The truth was, Millie and Dean had no idea where their dad was, or if he was even alive. But, Sammy hadn’t even learned about what goes bump in the night yet, and the older Winchesters wanted to keep it that way as long as their father would allow.

The two of them put Sam to bed. Promising that Dad would be back when he woke up, they both knew they were lying. And that they would continue to lie as long as they had to, to protect their baby brother.

After Sam was sound asleep, Millie lying next to him, combing her hands through his hair in a comforting manner, Dean told her he was going to go get some necessities, another lie, she knew, but she also understood why. The less she knew, the better she could protect herself and Sam if something were to happen to Dean. At least, from people. Monsters didn’t need to be reasoned with.

She must have dozed off, while Dean was out because she wakes up to Dean coming back in with a small tree, and a couple well wrapped gifts for Sam. Dean and Millie hadn’t expected Christmas since the year immediately following their mother’s death. Millie didn’t understand for a couple years yet, but she wasn’t worried, because her brother wasn’t worried. She always trusted Dean. No matter what he said or did. Even when she knew he was lying.

She quietly slipped out of the bed, and helped Dean set up for Sam.

A few hours later, Sam woke up, and looked around the room, a small smile growing on his face. “Dad?” He asked, hope growing in his eyes.

Before Millie could respond. Dean said, “He came in late last night, and left. He didn’t want to wake you up. But he brought Christmas!” Dean tried to sound convincing, but Millie saw Sammy’s eyes drop.

“Sure.”

Things here unfold as in the show, with Millie observing because that’s what she does. And when Sam gives Dean the amulet, Dean worries she will be a tad jealous, but when he looks at her, all he can see in her eyes is love for her brothers, happy they’re getting along, and an idea forming in her mind. They enjoy their time together both Christmas Day and the week following before John came home, Hungover, and sporting some bruised knuckles.

Over the next year, Millie stole found some thread, six different colors. Lots of blue, purple, and orange, and then some yellow, green, and red.

Then she got to work on making necklaces for herself and her brothers, (she was going to do bracelets, but decided against it with the realization of the realities of hunting.) Dean’s necklace was blue, purple, orange and green. Sam’s was blue, purple, orange, and yellow. And the one she made for herself, was blue, purple, orange, and red.

Blue was Dean’s favorite color, purple her own, and orange was Sam’s favorite color. For Dean’s she chose Green as his fourth color because she wanted him to remember that at his core, he was a caring, nurturing person, no matter what he had to do. Sam’s fourth color, yellow, was because he was the sunshine in his siblings lives, the hope. And for her own, she got red. She told her brothers it was because red was her second favorite, but the reality was that red is both the color of love and anger. She felt it most fitting.

The next Christmas, after the ninth anniversary of their mother’s death, she presented them to her brothers, and they were grateful, and chose to bind and spend the day watching scooby doo reruns as they did the year prior. And would continue to do for years to come.

(Even after Sam went to Stanford, he would sit and watch Scooby on Christmas, hoping his siblings were doing the same, which was occasionally true, though sometimes, the two winchesters who didn’t leave hunting, chose to bury themselves in a case instead of the nostalgia. And after they brought Sam back into hunting, life got crazy, the first time all three of them sat together watching scooby after Sam rejoined them, was the Christmas after Dean’s deal, and before his death.

[wrenwinchester]

Millie always knew what was going on. Usually before all the people involved knew. She knew when J*hn was back from a hunt before he made it to the hotel door. She knew what mood Sam was in and how to fix it before shit hit the fan between him and their Dad. She knew what was wrong with Dean, whether a hunt had gone wrong, or J*hn was mad at him, or whatever, before he’d take two steps.

Mostly because she had watched and listened, forced into her corner of silence and solitude except for her brothers. Her whole life she observed those around her, how they acted and reacted. She knew the signs of fear and agitation like the back of her hand. She knew her father’s mood from his footsteps from 10 yards, and more than that, she quickly learned how to navigate them, how to help Dean keep the peace.

She spent years isolated because there she didn’t see a point in trying to make friends at school, and she wasn’t exactly approachable. Between her brothers and her own attitude, she was often whispered about but nothing more.

She listened and learned from everyone. She can read what people are feeling before they can put a name to it, especially her brothers who refuse to accept their feelings.

She stands in silence while her brother’s and/or father interview witnesses, it varies greatly what she says. Even with her good people reading skills, some people are still hard to read.

[wrenwinchester]

Happy birthday to Millie Wren Winchester, she’s 43 today, and she truly deserves the world. Also, this is fairly raw writing, haven’t had a chance to edit or anything, just a heads up. But without further ado, here is the

Fourth of July 1996

Dean went out for a bit, I honestly had no idea what he was doing, Dad was off hunting who knows what in southern Michigan, hadn't heard from him in like a week. And Sam was being a bratty 13 year old. Dean and I had tried everything, taking him to the local pool, taking him shopping, finding his favorite anything really, and nothing helped. He was mad at Dad because he missed his birthday, and mad at Dad for about 1,000 other reasons. And now. I was dealing with it alone. "Great."

Sam looks up from whatever book he was reading, Oliver Twist maybe. "What's wrong?" He asks, sitting up on the bed. And I mentally curse. I hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Nothing, I'm just tired and frustrated about stuff at the convenience store." I say, not entirely inaccurate, but definitely not what had me going.

"I can't believe you've already made assistant manager. I mean you just started what, a month ago?" He asks. Even though he knows the answer.

"Yeah, but think of all the different experience I have, and the fact that I actually have a work ethic." I say, and he nods looking over at me.

"That's true. Still, I'm proud of you." He smiles at me, and it feels like the first time he's smiled in weeks.

"Thanks, Sammy." I look at the time, it's 7:30. "Hey have you eaten yet?" I ask him.

"No, I wasn't really hungry earlier," his stomach growls. "Apparently that's not so true now."

"What do you want to eat?" Sam's not necessarily picky, but he is particular.

"Whatever you want is fine. I don't care." Ahh, there's the attitude I was expecting.

"Okay, well, I'm just doing cereal because it's easier, and right now cheaper." I say and Sam just shrugs. "By the way, do you know where Dean ran off to earlier? He didn't say anything to me." I say, and Sam shrugs again, putting his headphones on for the Walkman Dean and I pulled money together for his birthday, and goes back to reading. "Okay then."

Sam and I eat our cereal, basically ignoring each other, though it's more like he's ignoring me. I'm just respecting that.

Sam continues his reading when we're done, and I clean up our bowls and add milk to the shopping list. When that's done, I look over the newspaper for any possible cases.

Then, I pick up one of my books, something about protective sigils from the library in town, and I get to work on cleaning the weapons. Granted, all the ones that are here have already been cleaned, but I can engrave protective sigils into the handles, anything to help keep my family safe. When I look up it's 9:30, and I glance over towards the bed Sam's been reading on, and notice he's fast asleep. Book closed on his chest, headphones still playing whatever music he chose. (It's probably one of Dean's cassettes, but I'm not supposed to know that Sam likes Dean's music.)

I walk over to the bed and pick the book up, careful not to lose his spot, and place a bookmark in it before setting it on the nightstand. Dean's been gone for hours at this point, and I'm starting to worry. He should have called or something.

I move across the room, grabbing one of the spare blankets off the couch, and bring it over to lay across Sam. He shifts like he's going to wake up, but doesn't. "Nice to know I haven't lost my touch." I whisper to myself with a smile across my face.

I glance at the door, worrying about Dean again, and I shake my head. He's seventeen, he can handle himself. I repeat the thought over and over again trying to find some comfort in it, but the truth is it ends up making me pissed at Dad. Dean and I have been able to "handle" ourselves since we were 7 years old. We shouldn't have had to.

"Great. Now I'm thinking about Dad and what might have gone wrong on the hunt. And now I'm worried about two Winchesters. I pick up another one of my knives, it's one I don't use often, but it was a gift from an older lady, couldn't tell you much more than she was a redhead, I got it, oh it had to be 6 years ago now. She was nice, saw that I liked knives, and offered it to me. I haven't seen her since. Bobby said that this one was just a normal dagger, but I'm not sure I believe him. So, I keep it in the bag he and I made when I was really in my sewing phase, before I was constantly sewing up skin instead of cloth. Bobby helped me put some sigils on it to keep whatever mystical knives somehow ended up in my possession. (After a witch hunt, dad would let me go through the witches belongings for things that seemed useful. I almost always grabbed at least one knife, but occasionally, they were gifts, that later turned out to be from witches, but more knives meant more ways and more things I could protect my family from.) I set the knife down, not needing protection sigils on it since I never use it, and continue going through everything. A couple hours later, I decide to practice my knife throwing. Not that I really needed practice, I'd been throwing knives since before I started school, and they're my favorite weapon.

I don't leave the room, leaving Sammy alone never ends well. I already know something will happen, and we won't get our deposit back, so it might as well be this, I find a spot on the wall, and make a little x, that's my target. I decide to only use this specific knife, I don't know why, but it just feels right, and as a hunter, I've learned to trust my gut. Just as I'm about to through it, get out some of my frustration and worry about my family, the door swings open, I guess someone else is my target tonight.

My arms already poised to throw the knife before it registers who is at the door, I miss hitting Dean by a fraction of an inch, almost cutting his ear off.

"You nicked me!" He yells, his hand coming away from his ear, and looking at me bewilderedly.

"Dude, you're lucky it didn't go through your eyeball." I reply, going to grab the knife from where it stuck in the wall. It was meant to be funny, but it comes off snarkier than I meant it to, and Dean looks a little taken aback. I don't really have words for why or any idea what to say, really, I just shrug, and say, "Keep it down would you, Sam's sleeping."

Dean looks apologetically towards the bed where Sam is sleeping, he's moved since I closed his book, he's now curled up, practically in the fetal position curling in on himself. "Sorry. And Sorry I was gone so long. My errand had me running around for a while to find the stuff." He smiles gleefully, "but I did find it."

"What is "it", Dean?" I ask perturbed. Walking to put my knife away, obviously I didn't mean to hit my brother, but I figured he was an intruder or monster. "Oh, and sorry about your ear, want me to patch it up?" I ask, it's as good an apology as he's gonna get, besides he knows my frustrations aren't with him. Entirely.

"'It' is a surprise." He smiles, but it fades when I don't smile back. "How's Sam doing?" He asks, probably hoping that's all that's bothering me.

"Moody as ever. One minute he's telling me how proud he is of me for being promoted at the convenience store, and the next he's not talking to me again, and ignoring me." I sigh, as Dean nods along. "We were never that bad." I pause. "Were we?" It comes out quieter than I meant it to. But it's all just hitting me right now.

Dean just gives a wry laugh. "We never had the opportunity. Dad kept us moving, and we were taking turns taking care of Sammy." He says, and he's right. I'm surprised he said it, but he's right.

"So, what you're saying is if Dad had been a better parent, we would have been as bad as Sam?" I ask, mostly because u feel like pushing his buttons.

"Dad's not a bad parent, he just has a lot going on, just leave him alone will you." Dean says, and I realize that nerve is tighter than it usually is.

"I know, I'm just worried that we haven't heard from him. Usually he calls by now." Dean nods. "Not to mention we don't even know what or exactly where he's hunting. How're we supposed to help him if something comes up?"

Dean just shakes his head. "It's Dad. He'll be fine. He's always fine." I nod, still not reassured. And Dean shakes his head. "You know what, we need to get out of here. We need to just relax a little, have fun. It's the Fourth of July after all." He says and goes to put his coat back on.

"Dean, we can't just leave Sam, especially not to galavant around town—"

"We're not," He says pointing at Sam as he continues. "Wake him up, I have a surprise." I stare at him.

"We're not waking up Sam, we can do the surprise in the morning." I say, trying to put my foot down. And then I laugh a little, you'd think we were grown adults parenting our kid, and reality is we're 17 and 15.

"Come on, Wrennie, let's just go have some fun, act our ages for once. I promise it'll be worth it. Besides, it has to happen tonight." Dean would never know, but he has puppy dog eyes just like Sam. And for once. I agree.

"Okay, fine. But you're waking him up, it's almost midnight, and I'm not gonna be at the receiving end of a Winchester cold shoulder right now." I point at him, and go to put shoes on.

"Fine by me." He says recrossing the room to get to Sam's bed. He always sleeps on the bed furthest from the door. Old habits and all that.

Dean starts shaking him. "Sam.Sammy.Sam. Wake up!" Dean practically yells, and I through a pillow at him. We aren't the only ones in the motel.

Of course, the pillow misses and hits Sam in the face, he groans.

"What's wrong." He says, throwing the pillow off his face.

"Get up, I've got a surprise for you." Dean says and I roll my eyes. It shouldn't really surprise me anymore the leeway Sam has for Dean. I mean. I have it too, but still it irks me that I'm not granted the same courtesy by Sam. But because of it, Sam gets up looking for where his book fell, and finding it placed neatly on the side table.

I sit in the back of the impala on the drive to wherever we're going. It's supposed to be special for Sam, and frankly, Sam is mad at me for hitting him with a pillow, and for whatever else he convinced himself to be mad about. I should have just stayed at the motel, let them have a boys night doing whatever it is Dean has planned, but Dean's right. We should just act our age for once.

After 20 minutes of driving, where Sam and Dean are talking and anytime I try to say something Sam gives the cold shoulder, and Dean gives an apologetic look, before they continue talking, we finally arrived wherever Dean wanted to take us, and...

It was an empty field. "Dean, what are we doing here?" I ask, as we get out of the car and he pops the trunk.

"Sam, you wanna see what I've got in the trunk?" He says, and Sam eagerly goes to see what we're doing. I hear his excited squeals, and I'm already getting confused about it, but then Sam comes around the corner, a crate of fireworks in hand.

"Seriously, Dee?" I ask incredulously, but I can't help the smile spreading across my face.

"Yeah, like I said, it's the Fourth of July." He smiles back and I just shake my head.

"Come on! Let's go," Sam says, the biggest smile he's worn in a while across his face. And Dean and I follow closely behind as he brings them along.

Sam sets the crate down in the middle of the field, far enough away from any trees, and the car, but still close enough to the car just in case, we are still a hunter's kids.

Dean gestures to a couple of thinner fireworks for Sammy to grab, and pass between the three of us.

"You got your lighter, Dean?" I ask and he pats his pockets checking for it. It takes him a minute, before he pulls it out with a winning grin on his face.

"Always." The smug bastard. But I smile anyway. And Sam looks at me with glee.

"Light 'em up!" He says, and so Dean lights all three of our fireworks, and we hold them up into the air. Watching as they go off. And Sam looks at Dean, "Dad would never let us do anything like this. Thanks, Dean. This is great." And hugs Dean.

When they're done hugging, Dean slips Sam his lighter, and gives him a nod, letting him light all the other fireworks. Sam comes running back, the biggest smile on his face as he yells, "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" And stands by Dean turning around to watch the fireworks go off.

As they continue going off, all of us laughing and smiling, Sam turns to dance under the sparks, and I turn to Dean. "You're right Dean, we really needed this. To act our own age for once." I smile up at him, before resting my head on his shoulder, and we continue watching Sam dance under the sparks and he gives both of us a smile. And of course, we smile back. And just enjoy our time just the three of us as the fireworks continue going off.

After the last of the fireworks explodes, and the sparks die down, we clean up most of our mess, and bring it back to the Impala. Sam sits in between Dean and I in the front, as he's still a little shorter than me. And the three of us ride back to our motel in a comfortable silence.

Sam falls asleep on my shoulder, and I revel in it, he's my baby brother, and I'd die right now if it meant getting could get out of this life, get Dean out. When I look over at Dean, he's got the biggest smile I've seen in a while on his face, just pure unfiltered joy.

"Dee," I whisper and he turns to look at me. I nod my head towards Sam, his body slumped over in a way that seems like it'd be uncomfortable, but he needs the sleep, and he's out cold.

Dean's smile grows soft, full of love, and admiration for our little brother, before his gaze slides back up to me. And he shrugs.

"I swear, you'd better be the one to carry him in, his getting too big for me to carry." I say jokingly as my left arm clutches Sammy closer to me, as if somehow I could just keep him this small, and protect him from all the pain in the world.

"I didn't say anything!" Dean whisper yells, and I just eyeball him. "Fine. I'll carry him in, but you know he's getting old enough where we could start waking him up when we get places." Dean says and I smack his arm. "I'm just saying, you and I were getting woken up when we arrived somewhere years before we hit double digits."

Of course, Dean is right. Sam is getting to be too big for either of us to carry, but the longer we do, the longer we can keep him little and safe. Even if it's not what Sam wants. It just means we have to work out more, build our muscles so we can carry him, especially if he's gonna be hunting more than just helping with the research.

I ignore the thought, because the truth is it terrifies me, ever since that wendigo incident a few years ago, the idea of Sam hunting isn't a comfortable one. I switch my focus back to tonight and look back at Dean.

"Hey, Dee?" I say, voice still quite so as not to wake Sam. He glances over at me in acknowledgement, "thank you, for tonight. I know it was mostly for Sam, but I really needed it too. The reminder that we are just kids." I smile at him. "And, I really needed to get out of the motel room, I think I'd been in there too long." I say, "and I know Sam needed it, to get his mind of off of Dad, and the fact he missed his birthday. I think you made up for it." Dean just shrugs me off, he's never been great at receiving praise, and I let him minimize what it meant to Sam and I, it's just easier. "I do mean it." Is all I say, and he just silently nods.

When we get to the motel, I help Dean get Sam, who turns into Dean and just holds onto his neck as he carries him up to our room. And I get the fireworks garbage out of the trunk, and toss it in the dumpster. Let someone else deal with the mess. When I make it into the room, Sam is still asleep, and Dean is being held down by him on the bed.

I lock the door as I glance between them, and I just shake my head before crawling into the bed and squishing Sam in the middle of us. It's a little small, but the three of us still fit, and we still need each other.

For the first time since we last saw Dad, I sleep completely peacefully without any nightmares. Because even if something does happen to Dad, I'll always have my brothers.

[wrenwinchester]

Using this as an excuse because I haven’t really talked about Millie Wren in a hot second, and life has been chaotic recently, but hear me out.

Middle sister Winchester, named after John’s mom, Millicent Wren Winchester, just as protective as Dean, just as emotionally well rounded as Sam. Didn’t run off to college, but left John and Dean in February of 2004, kept hunting away from them, and went on to try to get Dean away from John more consistently, while fighting with her urge to take care of her father that both she and her older brother struggle with.

She’s charismatic, and gets souvenir knives from most hunts, even has some gifted to her by witches (both as engagements and as invited into their coven in different situations which she doesn’t know.), and she has a stash of smaller ones that she keeps on her at all times to give to women and children when they’re scared after a near death experience with whatever monster, but encourages them to continue their lives as they were.

I love her. So much.

I love seeing people spn ocs so much like if you have a supernatural oc show me they’re so cool

[wrenwinchester]

For those of you asking (specifically @th78) here’s a link, enjoy!

[wrenwinchester]

Millie learned how to sew young. It was “easier” because she had smaller hands than her brothers.

She just liked the normalcy of it.

She would fix holes in their clothes, and even in the sheets on their beds if they were in a run down motel for too long.

Her love of fixing things only deepened when her father started having her stitch up his cuts, even as she watched him down the entire bottle of alcohol. She yearned to heal the pain the loss of her mother had inflicted. In another life, maybe she would have been a nurse.

When she was 10, she saw a magazine about embroidery, and learned everything she could about it. Dean got her some supplies. She started patching holes in her brother’s clothes with embroidery, sometimes they were flowers, and trees.

Other times, especially as she got older, they were protection sigils.

At 16, she stopped mending clothes, she was hunting with J*hn every other month, and it became more of a chore. She’d be sewing up her own wounds, or her brothers’ wounds. She didn’t need to be doing anymore. (Besides, between her and Dean’s odd jobs and the credit card scams, they could handle buying new stuff when they needed to.) She hasn’t touched a needle except to sew up a wound in years, but she yearns for a creative outlet, something, anything to ease her pain, but she’s burnt out and has no energy for it.

[wrenwinchester]

Millie gives people knives as a form of affection. Sometimes she’ll spend days choosing the best knife (style, design, etc.) that best fits the person.

She’s also the type of person who you need something done, she’s got a knife for that. Need a letter opened, “oh I’ve got a knife for that.” And it’s like specifically a small knife that’s probably better labeled a letter opener. Need a machete to kill a vampire. “I’ve got 10, pick your favorite…. But there’s a high likelihood I want it back” *death stare of seriousness* Need a blade forged in dragons breath to kill a dragon? “Oh I got this one when I was like 15, from some old lady, cause I thought it was cool.” Need a knife made out of a specific bone to kill some creature or another? “Oh I picked one of those up last week at such in such. Didn’t know it would come in handy so soon.” “We need an obsidian knife for *insert spell to do something*” “oh well, here you go. I’ve had this one since I was like 17.” *cue confused looks from everyone* “how does a seventeen year old get a— you know what. Never mind.”

Just. More shit like that.

Also she has like three of these displays around the bunker by season 9, and very quickly adds to her already large collection of knives.

Wren also keeps a collection of small switch blades and other small knives to give to the kids she meets on hunts. She teaches these kids how to take care of the knives, being specific to the knife she gives the kids (often giving her own knife sharpener to said kid) and gives the kids clear instructions on knife storage and safety.

She spends hours making sure her knives are clean and sharp, always ready to use. It’s nice having something so routine. After she and Dean meet up, and get Sam from college, the three of them quickly fall into the routine of Dean cleaning the guns, Sam doing the research, and Millie cleaning and sharpening the knives. It’s just the way it’s always been, it felt safe, normal. As normal as it gets for a Winchester anyway.

[wrenwinchester]

I talk about Millie and knives a lot. I know I do. Partly, if not mostly, because I myself have a lot of love for knives, they’re practical and useful, and truthfully I mean anything with a blade. Machete, sword, anything like that.

However, I don’t think I’ve mentioned anything about why she prefers blades to bullets, or how we ended up here to begin with.

It’s not because she has bad aim, or doesn’t like the loud noise. She’s been able to shoot a gun accurately since she was about 8, and she’s been training with guns since she was 7.

She was careful and cautious, but determined. She’d been watching Dean practice shooting at Bobby’s since she was 5ish, begging him to teach her just as long.

It didn’t matter, Dean wouldn’t disobey John, who refused to teach her to shoot until she was just a little older, worried about the kickback, especially not when it came to his siblings’ safety. However, John hadn’t said anything about knives, so Dean started teaching her to fight with knives, disarm an opponent, and even throw unbalanced knives perfectly. She practiced all the time, especially when Dean and John were gone, and when she was at the Roadhouse. They became an extension of who she was, a part of her, when she doesn’t have a knife on her person she feels vulnerable. Even just a small one strapped to her ankle, or tucked safely into her boots or in a sheath on her thigh is better than nothing at all.

[wrenwinchester]

Dean was put in charge of a two year old and a six month old at four years old. He raised them while raising himself. He only ever wants what’s best for them, but he needs to protect them, and that takes precedent over what’s best for them. Millie and Sam are his kids, he admires how strong and resilient they are, he admires the way they can stand up to their father (Sam more so than Millie). He’s their protector, always and forever.

Sam adores Dean. He spent his whole life watching his big brother, seeing how he interacted with people at their new school, watching him give death glares to bullies, and quickly copying him. Dean is Sam’s home. Always. Sam loves Millie Wren. She’s honest about how she’s feeling, she doesn’t let anything get in her way, not even their father. Sam never doubts for a second that Wren loves him, even when she’s disappointed by a choice he makes. Sam takes losing Dean harder than he ever takes losing Millie, not because he doesn’t love her as much, but because he feels like he let Dean down, and he failed his brother. Sam doesn’t understand the pedestal Dean has him on, that Dean’s anger comes from fear, and his frustration is more at himself than at his little brother.

Millie watched Dean go hungry to feed her and their brother. He would pretend he wasn’t hungry, or he’d say he would eat later, but he wouldn’t. She was only three and she was worrying about food for her brothers. She was only three when she stopped eating the first time (she didn’t eat for two days insisting she wasn’t hungry). She was only four when she started to sleep with a knife under her pillow for comfort. She watched as Dean raised her and her little brother, as well as himself. She was four when she was determined to help Dean take care of Sammy, no matter what. Millie Wren admired her older brother like no other. He is her saving grace, and she’s his. Millie envies the childhood she and Dean fought for him to have. The innocence they made sure to let him keep as long as possible, but she loves him more than words can describe. He gave her a purpose, Dean’s job was to take care of Sam, so it was her job to take care of Dean. She was only five the first time she was left “home” alone with Sam. Still not knowing what was out there (Dean and J*hn were going shooting practice so Dean could keep them safe.) and she knew it wasn’t good. She was only five the first time she accidentally pulled a knife on their father for being startled in the morning. She was only six the first time she got a gun for her birthday. She took care of everyone, her father, her brothers, herself. She patched up wounds, mended clothes. Her job was to take care of her brothers, no matter what.

None of them felt worthy of being saved, not by angels or each other. But time and time again they sacrificed themselves to protect the others. And time and time again, their siblings would bring them back.

[wrenwinchester]

Millie’s relationship with Bobby is also one of her least complicated relationships. He’s always there for her, when she ends up at his doorstep after leaving Dean and John, he pulls her into a hug, and sets up the guest room for her. He keeps it open for her always. And when she ends up back on his doorstep after John disowns her, he pulls her into a hug, and lets her cry it out as she tells him what happened. And lets her leave the next morning without saying goodbye because he knows that’s what she needs.

What else can I say, he’s her dad.

[wrenwinchester]

I’m sobbing. Like I actually want to cry. I just found a snippet from my Millie Wren fic, (y’all know the one, the one I can’t shut up about) and I guess I got inspiration back in like November for future chapters (I.e. season 15 episode 20) and wrote like 2000 words about how i want it to go with Millie’s involvement (I’m not going into details because that happens 16-17 years from where I’m writing right now and that’s a whole other ordeal) promptly forgot about it, went to do some editing on other parts and saw that doc, and now I’m screaming I don’t remember writing it.

[wrenwinchester]

So Wren is the only one who Sam allows to cut his hair, until Jess, but even then, he doesn’t allow Jess to cut his hair until after Millie visits for his 21st birthday and shows Jess.

[wrenwinchester]

Millie steals knives all the time. If she sees a cool and practical knife, she either trades less practical knives, or she’ll ask to borrow the knife from the local police officer and “forget” to give it back.

She always has at least 4 or 5 knives on her person, and at least four more hidden around their motel room.

It starts with kitchen knives from kitchenettes in their motel rooms.

[wrenwinchester]

Millie Wren has a habit of befriending witches by accident. (She honestly has no idea how it happens.) It pisses off her dad and occasionally brothers, but she just shrugs it off. Plus they always give her knives, so she’s not going to complain. She doesn’t use them usually, just in case they’re cursed, but she does keep them with her at all times in a second bag Bobby helped her make specifically for witch knives.

Bobby just decided it was better not to ask questions about the mildly mystical knives (sometimes more than mildly) the kid started showing up with and make sure she was safe instead.

They were tools, invites.