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apocalypseornaw · 3 months ago

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Close Call

Dean Winchester x Reader

Set in season 1 episode 12 "Faith"

When Dean's gravely injured on a hunt Sam calls you for help. With what seems like a ticking clock Dean makes some confessions but what happens when that clocks slows down?

Fluffy smut

You're not sure what you were expecting when Sam called you. Hell the younger Winchester hadn't exactly been thorough in his explanation, mixed in with the fact that you'd been freshly out of the shower when he called meant you'd barely gotten the bare minimum of it. That alone had been enough to make it feel like your heart would crumble. Dean, hurt, hospital.

"But people survive heart attacks all the time Sam" you were trying to wrap your head around what he was telling you but Dean only having a few weeks, a month at most? That wasn't feasible.

He nodded slowly "it was a massive heart attack. They said there was too much damage" you could see the tears brimming in his eyes and felt your stomach knot. "C'mere" you pulled him down into a hug and he practically buried his face in your neck "I can't lose him and you were the only person I knew who would come to us, who's always answered the phone for us both"

"It's gonna be ok. We'll figure something out. We'll hit the hunters network, make some calls. There's something out there that can help him and we will find it" you didn't know if you were trying to convince Sam or yourself. You stood there for a few seconds simply offering what comfort you could to him.

There were times you forgot you had two years on Sam in age, both of you were lifelong hunters having gotten dragged in at a young age. That's how you knew both boys. Sam was damn near a brother to you and as for Dean, he was the closest thing you had to a best friend.

After a moment Sam pulled back and you could see him take a deep breath and the resolve set in his eyes "I'm gonna head back to the hotel and get started on that list you texted me. Do you mind staying here with him?" He nodded towards the room the two of you were standing outside of. You hadn't went in yet but knew your heart would twist seeing Dean that weak. You nodded "Of course. Call me if you find anything" he kissed your forehead then turned to walk away.

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You took a deep breath to steady your nerves before walking into the room. You could hear the stations flipping on the television before you made it past the curtain, Dean was laying in the bed. Between the grey hospital gown and how pale his skin was he looked closer to a ghoul than the bright eyed, smart mouthed hunter you knew and loved.

He smiled weakly when he spotted you "Finally they got the memo about the fact that I don't wanna die where the nurses aren't even hot" you rolled your eyes at his flirting but sat down on the foot of his bed, resting your hand on the leg closest to you "How the hell do you have a massive heart attack Winchester? If you missed me that bad you could've called. No need for dramatics"

He grinned "Wanted to make sure you dropped everything to come to me sweetheart" you shook your head, trying to hide the worry you knew would be evident on your face. He looked so damn weak, the damage done to him internally showing externally as well.

"Let me guess, John couldn't bother to answer a damn phone for Sam" you couldn't help the bite to your voice. For too long you'd been quiet about the way John treated both his sons but from about the time you turned twenty on at any given opportunity you told him. Dean shrugged "I don't know. I didn't ask him to call dad. I asked him to call you" "oh" your anger at John didn't really dissolve instantly because you knew the reason Dean had you called was because like Sam said himself you always answered.

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"You need to get some rest" you urged Dean who shrugged "from what they said I'll be getting plenty of rest soon enough" your glare made him grin "I'm sorry sweetheart. I won't joke about it if you come up here and lay down with me. I know you drove all night to be here by now"

Wouldn't be the first time you and Dean had slept in the same area, especially since he started hunting without John. There'd been so many almost between you and him it hurt something deep inside of you to think about it. You loved this man with everything you had and to think about losing him to something as mundane as a heart attack? It didn't seem right.

You shrugged "I don't know Dean. Don't want the nurses to think I'm taking advantage of you in your vulnerable state" he nearly managed his signature smirk at your words before saying "if only I was so lucky then I could die a happy man. Now get your ass up here" he scooted over and patted the bed next to him.

You stood and walked up to the head of the bed, sliding in next to him being careful not to hit any monitor. You knew you were tense because your mind was working overdrive as was your heart but for some reason you thought Dean wouldn't notice, that proved to be wrong because he shifted to pull you further down the bed. "I'm weak,not dead. Not get comfortable and act like you want to be here. You need some rest too"

You knew what he was asking so you turned towards him, tucking your booted feet up onto the bed to lay your head over on his chest. His heartbeat sounded weakly under your ear but it was a familiar comfort. He hooked one arm around you "At least I get to hold you for a little while" you closed your eyes to ensure he wouldn't see any tears in them.

After a minute you'd hoped he'd fallen asleep but he spoke again "Remember that first hunt you ran across me and dad on after Sam left for Stanford?" You nodded "Yeah. I thought that vein on John's neck would burst when I told him it wasn't his fault he didn't know any better and maybe he didn't to read a lore book every now and then"

Dean's laughter shook you slightly "I've always loved that about you. You don't back down from him. You never have" you picked at the hospital gown Dean was wearing before saying "I hate how he treats you and Sam. You're the most important people in my life. I'll fight him tooth and nail"

His fingers found your hair, lightly playing with it "Will you watch out for Sammy? He's gonna need you?" You swallowed hard "I won't need to. Because you're not going anywhere Dean" he kissed the top of your head "Get some sleep sweetheart. I'm gonna try to"

Dean watched you sleep, even as nurses came in to check on him and he sent them out of the room with a glare. They'd told Sam he was dying, a few weeks tops. They could leave him the hell alone to hold his girl. His girl. When the hell had he started categorizing you as his girl?

Was it the fact that you knew the life? That you always backed him and Sam? That you were there when Sam left? You backed down John at every given chance, you always had his back. You were beautiful and sweet and badass. More than one night he'd shared a bed with you just sleeping and it was always the best sleep he'd ever gotten. The hunts you two worked together was a thing of beauty you knew the lore inside and out. If there was ever a chance for him to love someone and it to be a lasting love you were it.

He'd known it long before but laying in a hospital room, being told your time is limited kind of narrows things down for you. He loved you. He was in love with you. How the hell was it fair to tell you that just to leave you?

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Your phone ringing jolted you out of sleep. You could hear a deep voice, Dean? Memories of the last few hours came flooding back and you sat up to see Dean talking on your phone. He held it out to you "It's Sammy" you took it from him and climbed out of the bed, stretching as you did so. "Hey Sam. What's up?"

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Sam sounded excited from the sound of it so you decided to head to the hotel to see what he'd found out. When you told Dean you were leaving for a little while he looked disappointed until you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek "Please behave. I'll be back"

Sam had found a faith healer, from every contact it seemed legit. The problem? Dean would never agree to it? The solution? You would agree to tell Dean it was a specialist and leave it at that.

"So do you drive him in the impala or do I lure him into my car?" You asked Sam with a smirk about the time a knock at the hotel door made both of you turn around. You shared a look before Sam walked over to ease the door open. You started to reach for your gun but stopped when Dean's face came into view.

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"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked and he shrugged "I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot" then winked at you. You moved to help Dean into the room when he seemed unsteady on his feet.

The hoodie and jeans was better than the hospital gown but god he was still so pale. He smiled when you shifted one of his arms across your shoulders to support some of his weight "Just had to get close to me again, huh sweetheart?" You shook your head but helped him over to the bed to sit down then looked back at Sam "Why don't you go make sure both the cars are gassed up, grab some food for the road then we'll get going"

Dean looked from you to Sam so you explained "Sam found a specialist. Hopefully it'll be fruitful" he nodded "If you think it's worth trying" "we do" you and Sam answered in unison. Sam cut his eyes at you "I'll be back in about thirty, forty minutes then we can hit the road" you nodded and chucked him your keys "Thanks Sam"

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After Sam left you stood there for a few minutes before letting out a breath. Dean was watching you carefully before he patted the bed next to him "Sit down sweetheart. You're wearing me out"

You sat down next to him, careful not to move him around too much. He moved back on the bed until his back was against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him.

"Do you think this specialist is gonna actually be able to help or are you saying that for Sammy's sake?" You let out a shaking breath "I'm not just saying it for Sam's sake. This specialist has got to help. I can't.. the world can't lose you"

Dean patted the bed next to him "come up here. Might as well get comfortable. We'll be here a little while until Sam gets back" you did as he asked, sitting right next to him on the bed. He lifted one arm and you curled up on his chest so he tucked his arm tightly around you. "Hey, wanna play a game?" You nodded.

"Two truths and a lie" he whispered and you laughed "ok" "I have green eyes, next to Sam you are the most important person in my life and my first solo hunt was at twenty" you felt your face warm "Dean your first solo hunt was at Seventeen" he kissed your forehead "I know"

"Ok, my turn?" You asked and he nodded before shifting to nuzzle into your neck and you had to bite back a groan. You'd always been close to Dean and so many times you two had almost had something happened but what was this? You let out a breath "My car is dark blue, my heart is crumbling in my chest at the thought of losing you and I hate roses"

He whispered against your skin "You love roses" before pressing a feather light kiss to your pulse point. You swallowed hard "Dean" "hmm?" You pushed his chest gently, just enough to put room between the two of you. He looked up at you through those thick eyelashes and your heart flipped "what are you doing?"

He pushed himself up, despite the grimace on his face. For the first time since you showed up you saw his facade slip, tears shining unshed in his eyes "I don't want to die. I don't want to leave Sam. I don't want to leave you. I've known you for years, I've been at your side for years. I've wasted time. I love you Sweetheart. There's never been anyone I feel about like how I feel about you and I know it's selfish of me to say this now but in case this specialist is a bust"

He leaned forward, catching your lips in a gentle kiss that made your heart flip. The two of you had kissed before, teenagers fueled by hormones then hunters fueled by adrenaline after a hunt, nothing had ever gone past a little heavy petting. Something or someone always caused the brakes to get hit but this kiss felt different, like he was trying to say make sure you'd remember him and it broke your heart.

He pushed your shoulders until your back was against the bed and he was on top of you, holding himself up on his forearms. He went from your lips down to your neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive flesh. Every little sound that fell from your lips seemed to spur him on until your senses caught up with you. "Dean...stop" the moment you said it he froze.

You shook your head. A day or two ago you would've given anything to be in this position with Dean but now? You couldn't..."Honey...as much as I want to believe you mean what you told me..as much as I want this...as much as I want you. You're dying, you're afraid. I'm not taking advantage" you swallowed hard before continuing "if this specialist works and we get you to the other side of this tell me how you feel" he pressed his head over on your chest before saying "I've loved you for years"

You ran your hands down his back soothingly, feeling your heart break all over again "Tell me that again when you're not dying" he raised his head to look at you, green eyes holding your gaze "Do you love me?" You blinked back tears "Ask me after we see that specialist. Ask me when you're not dying, please"

He nodded and pressed another quick kiss to your lips before moving back to simply lay next to you "I do love you" he repeated quietly so you nodded, feeling tears sting your eyes. "And I'll give you an answer when you're well"

You and Dean hadn't spoken much when Sam got back except for Dean to tease you by saying "Don't worry sweetheart, Sam's driving so you'll be able to keep up"

From what you could tell he wasn't upset that you hadn't answered his question and you knew better than to think Dean would ever be upset over you turning down any advances. You wanted him, fuck you wanted him but you couldn't have him. Not weak, not scared of dying. You wanted him at full strength with a life ahead of him.

You followed the tail lights of the impala and cranked your music up a little louder. You just needed to get Dean to this healer. It would work...it had to work.

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You grabbed two hotel rooms in a nearby town because Sam figured it was a much better idea to have you in the car with him and Dean when you arrived to the revival where the healer was working.

You sat in the backseat of the impala as Sam pulled off onto the dirt road that lead to the field where tents were set up all around. "What kind of specialist is this?" Dean asked turning slightly in the seat to look back at you so you shrugged "One that can help you get your answer?"

A look of confusion went across Sam's face "answer to what?" "Never mind that. You two bought me to a faith healer" Dean pushed as the car came to a stop and Sam moved to help him out. Dean pushed away from him but took your hand. "Just give it a try please. For the two of us" you whispered, barely loud enough he could hear you over the crowd.

Dean looked from you to Sam. The woman he loved and his baby brother. He'd do anything for the two of you and if this is what you asked of him, well guess he'd give it a try. "Fine" your smile was reward in itself when you reached for Sam's hand and gave it a squeeze "This is gonna work" you assured the younger man before leading the way into the biggest tent.

Dean was healed, his heart was back in top shape you should be escatic and you were but so much had happened in the last few days with Reverend Roy, his wife Sue Ann practicing ancient blood magic to hold reapers hostage and make it appear as if Roy was working miracles and the guilt Dean was now carrying over Layla the woman you'd all met with the brain tumor you'd been forced to not let be healed well nothing had gone as planned.

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Sam had asked you to stick around, Dean hadn't said much to you and you were starting to think he regretted his deathbed confession now that it wasn't that. The last case had been a simple haunting. With the three of you it had barely take a day so on a rarity for hunters the boys had taken your suggestion of a clean hotel off route sixty six for a couple days to recoup and rest until another hunt fell in your laps or until John pulled his head out of his ass to call them.

You hadn't been long wished the boys goodnight and headed to your room. No matter where the three of you ended up they always made sure to get you a room next to theirs. You were standing at the dresser next to the door, going through your duffle when you heard a knock at the door. You eyed the gun sitting next to you before Dean's voice drifted through the door "It's me sweetheart"

Here it was. The admission that everything he said was simply words of a dying man. You took a step towards the door and reached to unlock the locks then stepped back to let him walk in.

You barely glanced his way when he crossed the threshold "Hey Dean" your voice was nearly a whisper. He closed the door behind himself and you heard the locks click into place, it was a habit of all of yours at this point. You continued your digging through the duffle bag as a means to keep your hands busy and distract yourself from the oncoming heartbreak as if he hadn't hurt your heart enough over the last couple weeks.

"What are you looking for?" He asked after a moment, humor lightening his voice. You shrugged "something to sleep in. I need to shower so I was planning on a tshirt, panties and sports bra so if there was an emergency the jeans were a slip on and go thing" he hummed a response behind you before you felt him move and his arms slipped around your waist, his hands covering yours to stop the repetitive movements considering you'd picked up and put down the same shirt four times already.

"How about we talk first?" You nodded, pulling your hands away from his. He dropped his arms so you could turn to face him and an almost shy smile played at his lips "There she is" you nodded "Here I am"

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He reached for your hand, turning so he could sit on the dresser next to your bag. Instead of releasing your hand, he used it to pull you to stand between his legs. You laid one hand on his shoulder, trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes on you "Y/N. What I did wasn't fair to you"

Your eyes flew to his face "What?" He shrugged "I sprung that on you. You drove all night to get to me and Sam and I spill my guts and put you on the spot for an answer? How big of an asshole do I have to be? We can forget it, if you want"

"And if I want to talk about it?" Your fingers moved to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes closed for a second before he nodded "We'll talk about it" "Do you actually love me?" You asked.

When his eyes opened the intensity in his gaze nearly made your knees go out from under you but luckily he chose that moment to slip both arms around your waist "Yes. I love you. I have for a long time but you don't have to feel like you owe me anything. We can stay friends.." his eyes flicked towards the bed before a smirk snuck onto his face "If you want more I wouldn't dream of telling you no but I'm not holding it against you for not feeling the same way. I've wanted to tell you and just had really shit timing"

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"So you don't want your answer?" You asked before leaning over and letting your lips find his neck, teasing the spots that had his grip tightening on your hips "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious but I'm not pushing"

You kissed your way across his jaw before claiming his lips, trying to push how you felt for him into the kiss. When the need for air forced the two of you away you felt a small thrill at him chasing your lips for another kiss "Sweetheart, if you're teasing the shit out of me because of that time dad interrupted us when we almost.."

You cut him off by crashing your lips against his before muttering "Still want to punch him for that" you pulled him up off the dresser and he groaned into your mouth. You broke the kiss and smiled up at him "I'm not teasing you for every time we almost had sex getting interrupted, I promised you an answer..." you took a deep breath before continuing "I love you too Dean"

"You don't have to say that to have me Y/N" he whispered, his lips barely a breath away from yours. You smiled softly "I know but Dean think about it. You're my best friend. I can't even pinpoint when I fell in love with you because the transition just happened but it did. I love you"

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His eyes searched your face for a moment and you could feel your heart thudding in your chest before you saw the realization finally strike him that you'd meant it. You loved him, you were in love with him and you wanted him. "C'mere" when his lips found yours again your hands went to his jacket, quickly shoving it off his shoulders as he started walking you backwards towards the bed.

When your the back of your knees hit the bed he followed you down onto it, lips never leaving yours until the need for air pushed you apart. You tugged at his shirt and he got the point, quickly pulling it over his head and tossing it across the room before finding your lips again.

Your hands smoothed up his chest, fingers tracing the familiar scars. Many of which you'd stitched up yourself. He moved from your lips down to your neck, kissing and biting the flesh there. When he hit your pulse point you let out a low moan of his name and he chuckled against your skin "Fuck I love that"

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When you felt his hands slip under your shirt you lifted your back off the bed enough he could slip it off you without ripping it. Your bra followed quickly, leaving your top half bare to him. He started to lower his mouth to your breasts but you stopped him with a hand on his chest. He looked up at you with a question in his eyes and you smiled teasingly "This is the furthest we've ever gotten. Are you sure we won't get interrupted?"

The look that went through his eyes made your stomach flip before he said "I will shoot any son of a bitch that tries it sweetheart" you laughed and moved your hand to cup his jaw "Fuck i love you Dean" he grinned "I love you"

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He pressed a kiss to your lips before continuing his path down your neck then making his way to your chest. He ducked his head to roll your nipple between his lips and your back arched off the bed into his chest. He continued to tease the nipple as you felt one of his hands teasing at the waistband of your jeans.

He glanced up at you for permission and you gave a short nod. He broke from your chest with a wet pop "No baby. I need words. I've waited too long" you smiled "Yes Dean" he grinned before helping you to shimmy your jeans off your legs.

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He tossed them across the room and moved down the bed to position himself between your legs. He started at your left ankle then kissed up, taking special care to leave a few hickies on your inner thighs, just shy of where you desperately needed him before going to the right leg to give it the same treatment.

You were a quivering mess under him and he'd barely touched you yet. "Dean, please" "please what?" He asked with a smirk, rocking back on his heels to look up at you. You tried to glare at him but knew it fell weak. He winked at you before licking a tentative strip across your clit.

When you moaned his name he chuckled "Oh this is gonna be fun" then dove in like a man starved of his favorite meal finally being allowed to feast.

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Your legs were shaking and Dean was working to pull yet another orgasm out of you even though he'd yet to even take his damn jeans off. When he added two fingers to brush across that spot deep inside of you, that warmth burst again and you came with a scream of his name.

You weakly shoved at his head "Please Dean, too much. Please" he left a final kiss against your clit before pulling back to look up at you "Enjoying yourself?" "Get your jeans off and get inside me please" you begged and he grinned broadly "now see? That's using your words sweetheart. That's a good girl"

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He stood off the bed long enough to push his jeans and boxers off. You'd always known Dean was on the bigger side but you'd never known how big.

He was big. You hadn't realized you'd been staring at his cock until he wrapped one hand around the base of it "Like what you see?" You nodded "C'mere"

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He grinned and crawled up your body, kissing every inch of skin he could reach along the way. When he finally reached your lips he captured your mouth in a passionate kiss, letting you taste yourself on him. You felt the head of his cock nudging at your opening so you spread your legs a little further, hooking them around his hips. He chuckled lightly "I got you baby" before slowly starting to push into you, a moan leaving you both at the feeling.

Once he was fully inside of you he stilled to give you time to adjust to him, kissing across your neck and chest. Once the pain of him stretching you gave way to pleasure you moved your hips to give him the go ahead. He gave a small roll of his hips and when your response was a gasp of his name that was all the assurance he needed.

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He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into you, pulling a moan from you at the feeling. He pulled back to look at your face for a moment "If you don't like anything tell me to stop" you nodded then remembered what he said about wanting words "I will" he smiled softly "Good girl" then caught your lips in a kiss so gentle it made your heart ache. "Gonna take care of you"

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Every damn thrust was pushing you closer to that edge. You'd lost count how many times Dean had made you come. You knew he had to be close. His thrusts started to falter and you knew he was close. You started to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

"Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so damn good baby. So damn good" you clenched at his words "Fuck Dean. I need to feel you come. Please baby"

"You first. One more time" he slipped one hand between your bodies, rubbing tight circles onto your clit. You felt that warmth rush over your body again and your vision went soft around the edges when you came. You felt his hips falter right before he asked "Can i come in you?" "Please" you moaned and he buried himself inside of you with a final deep thrust and you felt when he came, the feeling pushing another small orgasm out of you.

Dean pulled out of you gently, apologizing when you whimpered. He laid down next to you then pulled you over on his chest "catch your breath then we'll go shower" you raised your head to look at him "Probably gonna need help walking" you'd never seen him look more proud "I can do that" you shook your head then curled up on his chest.

His fingers were working through your hair as you both worked to get your breathing back to normal "So, are we doing this?" He asked and sounded so unsure. You chose not to face him when you asked "Why? Having second thoughts already?" He was quiet for a moment before saying "giving you an out" you pushed yourself up the bed to face him "Damn you Dean Winchester. I love you. There hadn't been an out for me for years. I've been your best friend for a long time before your cock was ever inside me or before you ever knew I loved you. I wasn't walking away before I damn sure am not walking away now"

He grinned slightly "even the possibility of dealing with my dad?" You shrugged "John Winchester doesn't scare me" he pulled you down and caught your lips in a quick kiss before saying "I love you" you smiled "I love you too. Now let's get some sleep because if Sam heard us he's gonna give us hell about it for days"

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction

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m4yasnotthatcool · 3 months ago

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one, two, three

part 1. (a/n) imma make this a series just hold on

"one dean grabs the silver knife, two sam shouts for y/n, three y/n torches the sonofabitch"

y/n is 15, sam is 12 and dean is 16 btw (its dean x reader guys, obviously)

they're not together yet, so I used this first chapter teaser thingy to kinda set the relationships the characters have with eachother, the boundaries(or lack there of) they have and stuff

-they're left alone at a motel (dean, y/n and 12 year old sammy) while John and y/ns dad are on a hunt;

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Sitting in silence at the table of the shitty motel room was one thing, but having dean winchester sitting at the other end of it was another. he was polishing off a gun, one left by his father in case they needed to protect themselves against any otherworldly creature that might be lurking the night. she tried keeping her attention elsewhere so as to not full on just stare at the boy in front of her, so she settled on mindlessly watching sammy do whatever it was that he was doing.

sam, deans younger brother was sat on one of the beds with his whole body turned towards the tube TV the room provided while eating a bowl of cereal. the heater in the damned place had been wrecked so all 3 of them were wearing whatever clothes they had been able to find around that'd keep them warm.

she was looking at sam trying to roll up the sleeves of his father's jacket as they slightly got in his way, making it difficult to eat, so she got up and silently took each of his hands and rolled up the sleeves in such a way that they would no longer come down.

"thank you" the younger boy said before getting back to his cereal and cartoons.

the girl smiled and nodded before grabbing a book out of one of the duffle bags that contained hers and her fathers clothes and laid out on one of the two beds.

After a while the soft background noise of dean polishing the gun had stopped and a faint sound of wood scratching against wood could be heard. when she looked at him, bringing her attention out of the novel she had been reading a few seconds ago she saw the older boy leaning back into the chair, stretching out his limbs and making the chair lean back along with him, now only being supported on its two back legs.

she couldn't ignore the way his groans echoed through the room or the way his shirt had ridden up slightly though she tried to brush it off. staring at him so profusely, she hadn't realised he started staring at her right back.

"so uhm..." he started. grabbing her attention and making her jump, slightly startled. "what are the sleeping arrangements for tonight? the usual ones or?..."

"oh I'm not sleeping with either of you two tonight." sam chimed in. "y/n kicks in her sleep and big doofus over there snores." he said, accentuating the last part by signalling over to dean.

just as dean was about to snap back at sam, she stopped him by saying something he wasn't expecting "well, I can sleep with you dean." she paused momentarily before adding in a muttered tone "of course, only if that's okay with you too.."

"it's okay!" he said a little too enthusiastically before stopping himself and regaining his composure. "it wouldn't bother me if you're sure that's okay with you too" he stated.

she just smiled before getting up and heading to the bathroom, grabbing some clothes along the way "okay, so it's settled then. I'm gonna go get ready for bed, be right back" she said before leaving the room.

- after getting out of the too-cold shower she wrapped a towel around her frame before putting on a pyjama that consisted of some flannel pants and a long sleeve shirt that she had taken from her dad.

after she got out, sam went in after her at deans request who said it'd be a good thing if the younger winchester went to bed earlier that night seeing as y/n was obviously getting ready to do so.

slipping underneath the covers adoring the twin-size bed she closed her eyes trying to let consciousness slip from her grasp to no avail.

so, instead, she listened to the commotion around. a siren could be heard outside on the street. perhaps someone died. or, could it be related to the job her and the winchesters fathers were working?

the shower stopped, the sound of the water turning off being a distinct one that could only be replicated by another rusted-over shower handle as the person getting ready to get out tried to stop the too-cold liquid from slipping out of the holes in the shitty shower head that seemed to have came out of another time entirely.

a gust of wind must have seeped through the cracks between the windows and the walls of the room as she could feel herself shivering even under the covers.

so she layed there until her eyes threatened to close, but just as they did she felt the bed dip beside her as a bigger, warmer form adjusted it's position next to her.

the light turned off before dean got under the cover, his side against her back in consequence of the small size of the bed.

she must have been shivering seeing as the older boy beside her kept himself up on his elbow as he leaned over her, checking to see if she was properly covered by the duvet. her breath hitched slightly as his hand tucked a part of the blanket around her body, signalling to him that she was indeed still awake.

he leaned back down, his head hitting the pillow with a small thud before she felt herself fall into blissful unconsciousness.

the light that entered the small motel room stirred awake y/ns sleeping form. as she adjusted to her surroundings once again she felt deans soft breathing underneath her. she had her head on his chest as their legs tangled underneath the duvet and his hand rested on her lower back, tracing soft shapes. she could practically see the smug smirk that he would have when she opened her eyes, but she decided to enjoy his warmth a little longer.

once she was semi-satisfied with the amount of time she got to feel the boys calloused hand trace lazy circles on her back, while still pretending to be asleep, she turned around, her back now facing him. what she didn't expect was feeling his arms around her waist just seconds after she turned her back to him.

well, it's not like they had anything planned that day. they were just waiting for their dad's to get back, so she allowed herself some more much-needed sleep.

it had been the sound of the TV that woke her up this time, and she couldn't feel deans warmth beside her anymore.

she rolled over on his side of the bed and looked over at sam who sat at the table her and dean had sat at the night before. he was bickering with the remote of the TV trying to change the channel. he smacked it with his hand a few times and tried changing the program again before sighing in resignation and getting up to press the buttons on the television.

after getting to a channel he was satisfied with, he glanced over at her to see her wide awake, flashing him a wide grin. "good morning sammy"

"hi" he said while sitting back in one of the two chairs. "it's not morning anymore, it's like..." he glanced over at the clock on the wall next to a subjectively ugly painting that had cracks and chips in the thick layers of paint. "11 30 ish.. "

she paused before replying amused "you still don't know how to read the clock?" she said containing a giggle.

"I do know how to read it! it's just that the hands on this one are especially thin, I can't see them properly"

she looked over at the clock herself and saw what he had been talking about: a small-ish clock with a thin black frame that held a white background and two thin clock hands that looked to be a light gray from the way the sun was hitting the glass that was protecting the intricate mechanism.

"fair enough..." she said before getting his attention back at him "wheres your brother?"

"he went to get something to eat. I don't know why though, we have cereal and crackers and some other stuff." he replied while watching the TV with increasing interest.

with that she allowed herself a couple more moments of comfort in the bed before slipping out from under the cover and setting her feet on the cold, ugly carpet that adorned the floor. there was a part of the room in which she presumed they had ran out of the ugly thing so the wooden floors were exposed.

she went over to her duffle bag, looking for some clean clothes but all she had were t-shirts.

"sammy, do you think dean would mind if I took one of his shirts? or a hoodie or something? it's freezing in here and all I have left are short sleeves"

"what?" he said snapping his attention from the screen in front of him "oh, yea, no, he wouldn't mind. and if he says anything you can take one of mine or something, they're about the same size anyway, he's just fatter than me that's all"

the door of the motel room opened with a thud revealing a dishevelled head of dirty blonde hair with dark roots. looking at the way his hair sat you could think he just rolled out of bed, which was probably not far from the truth.

"who's fat?" he said before turning his attention to y/n "good morning sweetheart" he flashed her a smile before getting between sam and the TV, action that erupted a displeased reaction out of the 12 year old.

"hey! I was watching that!"

"oh shut up" dean said dropping two brown grocery bags on the table his brother was sitting at.

"dean, is it okay if I take one of your shirts? I haven't done laundry in a while and I only have short sleeved shirts left."

"yes, sure." he said before lifting his and sams bag onto the bed you gad shared with him the night before. he started looking trough piles of clothes on the left side of the duffle bag, and for a moment she wondered if the boys had a system of keeping their attire separate while still in the same carry on.

her train of tought was quickly interrupted by deans quiet victorious "aha!" before grabbing a shirt and turning around to give it to her.

"here, this should keep you warm."

"thank you" she smiled while grabbing the article of clothing and going to the bathroom to change.

-when they were little they used to share clothes all the time. it was funny, really, none of the clothes had been ever actually anyone's, they were just everyone's. except for one shirt that she had deemed her special going out shirt. it was a simple, short sleeved t-shirt that had once been white but had been put in the wash with something red and had turned a light pink color. the rips and crackles in the printed on hello kitty that had been slightly discolorated because of the amount of times it had been worn and washed. for a moment she wondered what happened to it, one day it was just gone.

she got out of the bathroom wearing a pair of baggy jeans and deans shirt. the sleeves were coming down over her hands and her fingers, reason to why she had to roll them up every once in a while as to not get in her way.

she was met with a pair of forest green eyes watching her carefully as she entered the room and sat down at the table next to a very focused sam. apparently he had begun to research facts about a place he found out about on the news while watching TV that he suspected could be a potential lead for a hunt.

"sam, that's not really our business" she told him as she sat down at the table in front of him.

"but what if it is? we could go check it out.. I mean, we could like ask our dad's if we can go there maybe" he said still concentrated on writing everything he had just heard about the case on the news.

"well dads supposed to call today.. maybe we can ask him about it if he does" said dean while his focus shifted between the two people sitting at the table as he sat on the bed he had shared with y/n the night before.

"uh.. you know what? sure." she said with a now much softer expression.

she could recall always having a more sibling like relationship with sam, but with dean... there was something different, that she couldn't quite put her finger on. (but i bet you'd like to lmao)

he would make her melt with the stupidest shit, like this one for example. the "if he does" he added to the end of his sentence made her weary of the position they all found themselves in, feeling stranded from the fate their guardians might have suffered while out on the job. it seemed as a sort of awakening to her made up reality where her dad had a normal job in an office and she's just waiting for him to get back. no danger. no possibility of death.

the semi sad expression his face held while talking softened her to the point where she was sure her knees would have buckled under her weight if she had been standing up. she knew about how dean tried to protect sam from any and all harm. she knew how he tried to hide any negative thoughts that might come, and he had been successful for the most part. the younger winchester wasn't stupid, quite the opposite actually, and his brother knew that, you knew that, everybody knew that. yet dean tried to seemingly protect this presumed innocence that the kid he had mostly raised by himself was still blessed with. she had listened to dean lie to sam countless times, but never to her. no, he couldn't bring himself to lie to her when he saw the worried expression her face displayed, brows slightly furrowed, trying to read his thoughts as to maybe bring him comfort.

he was still a hard one to crack, she knew that, but the relief that washed over both of them when he let himself cry in her arms was something neither of them could deny. she was always there since they were just kids, always there to patch him up after going on a hunt with his dad, always there to lift his spirits after long nights spent watching the ceiling like it was the most interesting show, focused almost as much as sam when he read his books, if not even more focused.

but right now, that wasn't the case. dean was sitting on the twin sized bed, a grin plastered on his face as he looked at his brother and the girl he sat next to. she couldn't help but smile at his appearance, spiky, messy hair that went in all directions, a wide smile spread across his face and the jeans he had been wearing for the past week still on. as her eyes travelled down his form she noticed the untied laces on his boots, the dired mud on the tips of them very obvious on the black leather. "cute" she thinks before they all hear a phone ring.

dean hurriedly gets his out of the front pocket of his jeans but it isn't the one that's ringing, so he focuses on y/n as she gets her phone out and responds to the call.

"hi dad!" she says, her words having a slight edge to them, waiting to hear if he's okay.

dean and sam hear the person at the other end of the line say something before they see the tension in her demeanour vanish, being replaced by temporary relief.

"yea, we're okay too. hey, could you put Mr winchester on for a second? he was supposed to call dean today and if he's around now it'd be a good time for them to talk."

she listened to her dad say something before she hummed in agreement.

she covered the bottom part of her phone so the microphone wouldn't pick up what she was saying "he's getting your dad right now, you can ask him about the case sam- oh!" she said, uncovering her phone "yes, hi! no, nothing happened. yes... yes, I can put him on right now... mhm..." she held the phone out to dean "take it" is all she said.

he took the phone out of her hands and held it up to his ear "hey dad. yea, were all good. what? ... no, no that's not what... no, we just wanted to ask you about... yes.... no. dad, would you just listen to me for a second?" he said and paused for a second before continuing "okay, thank you. so me and sam wanted to tell you about a lead we found in uh... sam where was that lead again?" "michigan" "michigan. Well i- I don't know all the details, but I can put him on if you want.... yea... " he held the phone away from his face "sammy, he wants to talk to you" he handed the phone over to sam who then started explaining the details of the case he thinks he may have a lead on. an apartment building in which a young girl had disappeared without taking any of her belongings. the neighbours had heard screaming but there were no signs of breaking and entering, so the police had no leads. apparently that's not the first time it had happened, and in the past 10 years 6 girls had gone missing, all around the same age.

the other end of the phone was silent as the youngest winchester explained everything he had gathered from the limited resources he had available at the motel, and after he was done there was a moment on silence in which y/n presumed John was considering if he should pick up the case himself or leave it be.

then he said something that left sam a little taken aback, which obviously sparked both y/ns and deans interest, dean leaning forward with his arms on his knees and hands interlocked in front of him and y/n reaching over the table ever so slightly towards sam.

"he.. he said he'll talk to your dad y/n... but... we can go"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

wooooo cliff hanger

spooky scary indeed

anyway, english is not my first language so if I made any spelling mistakes feel free to point em out

I'm gonna try to put part two up as soon as possible babes

#fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #john winchester #spn #spn fanfic

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my-supernatural-rewatch · 24 days ago

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Episode 9: Home

Dean Winchester in the Supernatural episode Home

Oh yay. The episode that began my lifelong hatred of John Winchester.

When Sam has visions of a woman in trouble at the old Winchester house in Lawrence, Kansas, he makes Dean go back home in an attempt to both help the new homeowner and possibly discover what really happened to their mother.

This episode annoys me so much I almost don't even want to write about it...but I will.

So it's been 22 years since the fire and John presumably selling the house. (By the way, where did the money from the sale of the house go because it didn't go to housing or feeding the boys, but I digress.)

It's been sold more than once (if they mention how many times in this episode I missed it) because this new family just moved in and shit is happening that Sam dreams about. Now you're caught up.

We know it's the old Winchester house because the new owner finds a wooden box with stuff in it including what looks like could be a handmade card that says DAD across it (which would have had to be from Dean) and some pictures. Another question, why did John leave this box behind? Especially when it gets established in this episode that Dean has family pics. Why save some and not all, John? Huh?

Sam has a dream something bad is going to happen and demands they go back to Lawrence. As anyone not self-involved would be able to guess, Dean is not so keen on this idea given the last time he was in the house he saw his mother burning.

"I swore to myself that I'd never go back there."

Now I know Dean swore this when he got older but I did get a kick out of the idea of a four-year-old making himself a solemn oath to never go back to that house. Actually,that would be very Dean-like.

In spite of that, Dean knows that they have to go check it out. Dean tries to lie to the new homeowner that they're FBI but Sam interrupts with the truth...kind of. He gives their real names and says they just wanted to see the old house.

This happens a lot in fiction and I have to tell you if strangers came to my house and said "we used to live here can we look around" I'd say 'fuck no" for various reasons, among them, I'd need time to clean the damn house but more pressing would be WHY WOULD I LET STRANGERS IN MY HOUSE?

They find out about the weird stuff happening at the house and when Sam tries to get Dean to open up about how he feels about being home Dean drops a truth bomb Sam didn't expect:

"I'm just freaked out that your weirdo visions have come true."

Thus begins the storyline of psychic Sam and how somehow this freaks Dean the fuck out. I guess because Dean doesn't want to look at Sam like he's a 'monster' but I still always thought they went a little overboard with how much Sam being psychic weirded Dean out.

Also, I'm team Psychic Sam all the way. They should have never taken his powers away from him.

We have another episode where Dean's instincts about what the monster of the week is - is. I get that Sam is out of practice but we end up hearing about what a great hunter Sam is and, really, from the get-go Dean had it all over him.

We do get some good tidbits in this episode about the night of the fire. 22 years later and Sam JUST learns that Dean was the one who got him out of the house that night. How does that not get mentioned in all that time?

Oh here's how: John never told Dean or Sam what he thought killed Mary. So 22 years of running around the country chasing monsters and almost getting killed and John never actually discussed specifics with the boys. Nice. Nice.

After sharing with Sam about getting him out of the house, Dean ducks out under the guise of having to use the bathroom and makes a desperate call to John's cell phone and we learn that Dean has been leaving messages for John ever since they discovered the phone was turned back on...and, of fucking course, John hasn't responded to any of them.

"...I’m with Sam. And we’re in Lawrence. And there’s something in our old house. I don’t know if it’s the thing that killed Mom or not, but….(at this point his voice starts to shake and he's trying to keep it all together)…I don’t know what to do. (THEN HE STARTS TO CRY) So, whatever you’re doing, if you could get here. Please. I need your help, Dad."

So of course the next scene is John calling Dean back right?

RIGHT?

Of fucking course not. I hate that (fictional) man so much.

We find out that John was co-owner of a garage until the fire made him nuts. Dean and Sam talk to his former partner who tells them that John "sure loved Mary and doted on those kids." Also, the partner begged John to get help so someone saw John going down a bad path and tried to do something.

This dude gives them a lead: John hood up with a "palm reader in town" and the boys track down Missouri (again, thanks to Dean remembering something John wrote in his journal about Missouri).

A side note about Missouri. I know everyone loves her but she was at the very least counseling John and knew about Dean and Sam and STILL John ended up being John. As a psychic, she could have done more, IMO, to protect those boys.

"I went to Missouri and I learned the truth." Is what John wrote in his journal. So he knew all along and never.told.the.fucking.boys.

You'll note I usually write Dean and Sam. That's because normal people usually say the older sibling's name first. On Supernatural Sam gets first billing, I'm guessing, because Jared got first billing. It's stupid. I always thought it was stupid and I will always hate it.

I only bring it up because when they go see Missouri they don't even have an opportunity to lie about how they are, she clocks them as "Sam and Dean" immediately. She only knew Sam as an infant. It makes so much more sense that she would have said "Dean and Sam" is all I'm saying.

As an aside, in my notes I made a point of writing down that this episode is rife with dramatic close-ups of Dean. This is supposed to be Sam's story, really, but the director reminds us at all times that it's also Dean's.

We get an obligatory dumb thing to happen to move the plot along when the mom in the Winchester house leaves her baby alone in the kitchen after all kinds of sketchy stuff has been going on...only to give us a truly frightening moment when the kid crawls into the open fridge and gets locked in. Christ, that was scarier than most of this show's monsters.

Dean makes it his job to make sure "no one else dies" in the house/ Because it's always on him.

I think this is the first episode where we see hex bags (although they don't call them that). Missouri and Dean are making them and are going to shove them into the walls of the house. Okay, let's go.

I don't know if it was my tv, my eyes, the time of day I watched the episode or the actual episode itself, but man this one seemed to be shot much more darkly than other episodes.

The poltergeist basically kicks Misssouri's and Sam's asses while Dean fends it off...and comes to Sam's rescue...of course.

They trash the house in their efforts to get rid of the poltergeist...and Dean seemingly does just that according to Missouri.

When the owner comes back to the house, Missouri tells her Dean will clean up. She's been giving Dean shit the entire episode with no explanation. It makes no sense. Dean is the one who was old enough that she would have remembered, connected with. Why is she so shitty to him.?

They all leave with literally no proof that they've done anything but destroy the house and the new owner is all "Thanks!"

Just like the film Poltergeist, even though they thought the thing was gone...it wasn't. And Sam senses it so luckily they are right outside the house when Sam's vision starts to come true and they rush in to save the day.

The poltergeist is still in the house...but so is another ghost...Mary Winchester.

And she's a bit of a drama queen...appearing to them in flames. And she only says three things, their names "Dean." "Sam." and then she says "I'm sorry" to Sam. That's it. Then she turns around, yells at the poltergeist and he leaves.

Who knew it was that simple?

We get a shot of Dean holding a picture of him holding Sam and it is just too squee for words.

So according to Missouri, Mary "destroyed herself" when she yelled at the poltergeist so the house is clean of ghosts and hopefully (I guess) that means Mary got destroyed to Heaven.

The last thing Missouri says to them is "Don't you boys be strangers." Dean's response? "We won't."

Twelve years later Dean and Sam see her again.

We get a huge reveal at the end of the episode which isn't that huge a reveal since Jeffrey Dean Morgan's damn name was in the opening credits but when Missouri goes home, guess who's there? Fucking John.

Missouri can't figure out why with his psychic powers Sam couldn't sense John was there. She tells him Mary DID save the boys and she's upset he won't tell them he's there. He tells her he can't until he 'knows the truth.'

Oh shut the fuck up, John. You suck so goddamn hard.

Some notes for posterity:

THERE IS NO MUSIC IN THIS EPISODE. None. WTH?

Dean tries to tell the new homeowner they're FBI but Sam tells the truth. They pose as cops investigating the house fire/John's disappearance when interviewing his ex-business partner.

Movie References: Dean brings up both The Shining and a reference to Poltergeist in this one.

This hunt takes place in Lawrence, Kansas.

Dean wears John’s jacket in this episode but only at the end.

Not including the pilot and John's outgoing voicemail message, this is the first time both John and Mary are in an episode taking place in the current day.

Recognizable Guest Stars: Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Samantha Smith, Loretta DeVine

#dean winchester #ramblings of a fan #spn #spn rewatch #supernatural #supernatural rewatch #episode rewatch #spn 1x9 #supernatural 1x9 #Dean Wears John's Jacket #SPN Home #Supernatural Home #Location Kansas #Going Back to Lawrence #Monster Poltergeist #Writer Eric Kripke #Director Ken Girotti #Recognizable Guest Star #Season One

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jinkieswouldyoulookatthis · 1 year ago

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Make a Wish

This fic was inspired by The Time Dean was Sam’s Girlfriend by fleshflutter on LiveJournal

This is it! The thing I've been working on writing all year. It's finally done!

Dean and Jessica share a birthday, so what would happen if they both made birthday wishes at the same time that caused them to swap bodies? The inspiration story was fluffy and silly and adorable, but what if things were more explicit? Like, way more explicit?

This is a gender-bending body swap fic were the characters' sexual partners do not know who is actually inhabiting the body they are having sex with, so it's non-con. It's a bit of a dead dove, so if you don't think you'd be okay with the tags, please don't read. If you do read, I hope you enjoy it!

Relationships: Dean/Sam, Sam/Jessica, Jessica/omc

Warnings: Non-Con resulting from body swap situation and characters not making good choices

Read on AO3

Words: 14,476

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

January 24th, 2004

If anyone had ever tried to tell Dean that he would be spending his 25th birthday alone in some dive bar off the highway somewhere between Bumfuck and Podunk, middle America, he would have said that sounded about right. Especially after the last few years. Being alone had become, more and more, par for the course.

His dad, increasingly absent, which was fucking saying something when you considered John Winchester’s stellar trackrecord in that particular department, had been off on a solo hunt for a week now. Before heading out, he’d tasked Dean with a simple salt ‘n’ burn, a milk run that had taken all of a day and a half to complete. So now Dean was expected to just sit here, in this rest stop that was pretending to be a town, and fucking wait.

Dean hated waiting. Waiting gave you too much time to think, even though he had nothing good to think about, and thinking like that got you into trouble.

It was a Saturday night and, other than Dean, there were only four other people in the bar, three other patrons who all looked to be well into their fifties and the bartender, who was a decently handsome guy, probably did well enough with the ladies, but he had a beard and skinny jeans that gave off hipster vibes that made Dean decide right off the bat that he didn’t particularly like the guy.

He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and flipped it open with his thumb. The screen lit up, his thumb hovered over the button that would pull up his contacts. Once again, Sam hadn’t bothered to call him on his birthday and the urge to give his brother shit about it was strong.

Eight months.

He flipped the phone shut and sat it on the surface of the bar to the right of his beer, and tapped his ring against it twice, the silver making a satisfying clink against the hard plastic. It’d been eight months since they’d spoken.

Dean had called on Sam’s birthday, no answer, so he’d left a message, “Happy Birthday, Bitch. Call sometime, let me know you’re still alive.”

It’d taken almost another month before he’d worked up the nerve, which was almost entirely worry-fueled anger at that point, to call again. It only rang twice.

“Dean?”

Fear that had been slowly choking him from the inside let go all at once, replaced just as suddenly by irritation. “So you are alive.”

“Yeah, sorry I haven’t called you back. I’ve been drowning in finals.”

“Yeah right, you know you aced ‘em.” He could hear Sam smile, without him saying anything, and that should have made things better but it really didn’t. But they’d shot the shit for a bit, conversation light and barely surface deep, a shallow script whose only consolation was the reassurance that Sam was okay, better even, he sounded like he was thriving. A weird lump suddenly formed in Dean’s throat. “Hey, I gotta go, but happy belated.”

“Oh? Okay, thanks.”

“Later. Hey? Pick up the damn phone sometime.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

That had been in June. Neither of them had reached out since. He gave the phone a spin on the heavily varnished wood, set it twirling in place like a top before reaching for his beer. One long pull and it was drained.

“‘Nother one?” The bartender asked as Dean sat the empty bottle down.

“You know what? Fuck it, it’s my birthday, let’s step it up to bourbon.”

“Birthday, huh? And you’re lucky enough to be drinking here?” There was a barely restrained chuckle at the end.

“Yep.” Dean said with a little extra pop at the end of the word.

“Damn.” The bartender said as he turned and selected a bottle, grabbed a glass, and was back pouring two fingers of amber liquid with practiced ease. “This one’s on the house, birthday boy.”

Dean’s face lit up in a genuine, if somewhat rueful smile, “Thanks.”

The bartender nodded and busied himself further down the bar.

Dean slowly swirled the glass a few times. “Yeah.” he said, quietly, “Happy birthday.” Looking down at his phone again, he raised the glass to his lips and took a drink. He closed his eyes as the smokey, thick burn chased a wish for something out of reach down his throat.

A wave of vertigo crashed over him, so sudden and hard that he was glad he’d been sitting down. Even though he’d watched him pour the drink, the idea that maybe the bartender had drugged him suddenly seemed like a very real possibility.

Wait, why did he smell candle smoke? Shit, was he having a stroke or something?

He opened his eyes and had to grab onto the edge of the table to steady himself as his legs threatened to give out. Bar and barstool were gone, replaced with a house and a small dining table. The room he was now in was full of people looking at him with bright smiles, who all started clapping and cheering as soon as he opened his eyes. Smoke curled up from a forest of little, thin candles sticking out of a flowery cake on the table right in front of him that had, “Happy Birthday, Jessica!” written on it in fancy, blue, cursive icing.

There was a flurry of movement to his left and a pair of pretty brunettes started cutting into the cake and passing slices around. Everyone was smiling and laughing and acting incredibly… normal, like nothing weird had just happened.

Something moved way too close to Dean’s face and he flinched and tried to swat it away. As he touched it, he froze, eyes fixed on his fingers and the lock of long, wavy, blonde hair that tugged on his scalp as he tried to get it away from him. Long blonde hair that was being held not by his own fingers but by delicate, slender, fingers with nails painted pale pink, all glossy and graceful and… soft.

To say it was disconcerting would have been the understatement of all time. He was looking at a hand that was very obviously not his own, but that moved and felt as if it were. He gave another tug to the lock of hair, harder this time, and although it didn’t exactly hurt, it was definitely attached to his head, not a wig or anything like that. He brushed it back and confirmed he now had a full head of hair that came down way past his shoulders.

Chick hands, chick hair… his eyes went wide and he looked down his chest and stared right into cleavage.

He had tits!?

“Oh fuck.” he said in a chick’s voice.

“Hey?” A warm touch to his upper arm caused Dean to turn and look right into the throat of a massive guy standing behind him. Tilting his head back to look up he was met with bright eyes and a dimpled smile that he knew better than his own reflection.

“Sam?”

“Happy Birthday, Jess.” That smile, still sweet but with a gleam, a glint that Dean hadn’t seen since they were both teenagers. One of Sam’s hands came up, jesus he had big hands, and gently brushed along Dean’s jawline, thumb sweeping his cheek as long fingers slipped into his hair behind his ear. Sam’s gaze held Dean’s focus as he leaned down.

Had Sam gotten even taller?

Everything was moving in slow motion, Dean couldn’t feel his heart beating, wasn’t breathing, but his mind was spinning, scrambling to sort through way too much information, too much change, just too much, way too fast. So perhaps it was understandable that he didn’t react in time to pull back.

Just a fleeting, Oh fuck, before their lips met and Dean’s heart leapt into action like he’d been shocked awake. Sam was warm and familiar, but the way he pressed and pulled at Dean’s bottom lip, just a promising hint of more, made a small noise escape Dean’s throat that didn’t sound at all like disgust, like it should have.

Someone wolf whistled loudly nearby, eliciting another round of clapping and cheers from the crowd and Sam pulled back, twin spots of red blazing on his cheeks. He laughed in a way that Dean hadn’t seen in ages, playful and easy and open, as he glanced around at these people who were obviously his friends. A spark of something anxious twisted up in his chest. Dean blinked a few times, licked his lips, and swallowed, winded like he’d just sprinted up a hill too fast.

“Get it, Winchester!” a guy hooted from somewhere behind Dean.

“That’s real mature, Brady.” Sam said, his hand sliding down Dean’s shoulder and the back of his arm, coming to rest low on his back, fingertips brushing against the strip of bare skin between his top and skirt. The skirt thing was weird… drafty, but the warm press of Sam’s fingers sent little static sparks through him and a blush heated his cheeks, spread down his chest, and he was once again very aware of the fact that he currently had boobs… and a pussy instead of a dick.

This was bad, his mind raced like a cartoon character running in place before his thoughts finally caught traction with the ground and lunged forward. He wasn’t him, wasn’t in his own body. He was somehow in the body of Sam’s girlfriend?

Of all the bodies in all the world, I had to end up in this one?

But Sam hadn’t kissed him, he’d kissed his girlfriend, who’s birthday just happened to be the same as Dean’s? Which was… okay, yeah, that was weird as fuck. But she’d obviously just blown out the candles on her cake, which would have been the same time that he’d had swallowed down his own wishful thoughts.

Shit. He swallowed again. Shit, shit, shit.

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll be right back.” He said, trying not to show how unsettled he was at sounding like a chick, reminding himself that he looked like a chick, sort of was one right now. He took a breath, and told himself to play it calm and poker face the situation.

“You okay?” Sam asked, his eyes squinting slightly the way they did when he was concerned, or getting suspicious, his thumb rubbing against Dean’s skin, sending those sparks flying all through him again.

Oh, so not good. This is bad.

“Yeah, good, I just need to go to the bathroom.” Dean smiled as he felt for pockets in the clothes he was wearing, but found none. Where would she keep her cellphone? “Did you see where I put my purse?”

“Yeah, it’s right over there.” Sam looked at an end table by the sofa in the adjoining room.

“Thanks!” Dean said as he broke away from Sam and grabbed the purse.

Taking stock of his surroundings, it looked like they were in a two-story house. It was a little worn and run down, but decorated in a way that practically screamed college kids lived here. Probably a rental near campus, it had that vibe. It was also older, which meant that the bathroom was likely upstairs. He unzipped the purse as he went up the stairs, and thanked whatever luck he had that there was a little flip phone tucked inside. He found the bathroom and was punching in his number as he closed the door.

~~~

“Happy Birthday, tooooooo, yooooouuuuuuuuu!!!!”

Jessica thought of a wish and blew out the candles on her cake, then blinked and started coughing at a sudden burning in her throat. She must have inhaled the candle smoke. While her eyes were closed the room gave a lurch and she was suddenly sitting down.

A loud solid thunk made her flinch as she opened her eyes. Dark amber liquid sloshed in a thick bottomed glass that had just dropped onto a heavily varnished wood bartop a few inches below an outstretched man’s hand in front of her. Whiskey and the lingering, stale ashtray smell of old cigarette smoke hit her all at once. Looking quickly to her right, to see who had dropped the glass, she found that the man's arm that was connected to the hand that’d dropped the glass, was attached to her?

“What the…?” The voice that came out was not hers. It wasn’t even close. It was a man’s voice, with a timbre that resonated deep in her chest. She covered her mouth with her hand but then immediately jerked her hand away at the feel of a man’s fingers touching her lips and the feel of scratchy stubble against her fingertips. Her mouth tasted like whiskey, that’s what was burning in her throat, like she’d just taken a drink from the glass in front of her.

She looked down at herself and saw a broad, flat chest filling out an oversized leather jacket with a thermal shirt underneath, and long, muscular, denim-clad legs. Her hands were thicker, wider, than they should be, with short-trimmed nails, and a few scrapes and scabbed cuts across the knuckles.

Over the sound of Guns ’n’ Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle she could hear a couple of voices talking not too far away. She looked around. She was in some ratty, hole-in-the-wall bar that smelled like a lifetime of regret and spilled beer. There were only a few other people. An older couple that looked like they’d probably gotten here on a Harley, were sitting down the bar to her left, they were the ones talking, but they weren’t close enough for Jess to hear what they were saying. And there was a middle-aged guy who looked like he might be a trucker way down off to her right. He was drinking a Budwiser and staring into space, lost in his own thoughts. There was also a bartender busying himself with restocking the bar. He was probably in his mid-20’s, with a neatly trimmed beard, blue plaid flannel shirt that was buttoned up but not tucked into his well-fitting, black jeans that were rolled into wide cuffs above hiking boots. She watched him move some bottles around on the shelf along the wall and realized that there was a mirror there that ran the entire length of the bar.

Slowly standing and looking ahead into the mirror, she watched as a guy stood up and stared back at her. He had short, sandy brown hair, spiked a little in the front, and big light colored eyes. The dim lighting and collection of various neon in the room made it hard to tell if they were blue, gray, or green, but they were wide. He looked like he was also in his 20’s, handsome, really handsome, but no one she’d ever seen before. She raised her hand and watched as the guy in the reflection did too. She touched her face… his face? He mirrored the movement.

“What the hell?” She said, in a voice that seemed to fit the reflection.

“Everything okay, man?”

It took a few seconds to realize that the bartender was looking at her, that he’d been speaking to her.

“Uh?” What in the hell was happening? Was she dreaming? Was this some weird hallucination? A byproduct of having a stroke? Had she somehow fallen and hit her head? “I don’t know…”

The bartender’s brow furrowed. “Something wrong with the drink?”

She looked down at the glass again. Should she say anything? Say something to get some help? What would she say? Her heart was racing. Maybe she should slow down, take a minute before letting the looming panic take over. “No, it’s uh, it’s fine, it’s good. I’m good. Um, how long have I been here?”

“I don’t know, maybe about an hour.” He poured water in a glass and sat it down in front of her, next to the whiskey. “I know the bourbon here isn’t that great,” he shrugged and gestured around as if that explained it, “maybe take it easy?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m okay. Just had a weird… um sort of deja vu thing for a minute there.”

He nodded at her and moved away down the bar again.

Okay, something is going on, but it’ll be okay, I can figure this out, she thought as she sat back down on the stool. That’s when she noticed the hard press of a wallet in one of her pockets. Pulling it out and flipping it open revealed a driver’s license with her reflection’s photo on it.

“James Page, huh?” She said quietly to herself as she looked through the rest of the wallet. There were a few credit cards, about a hundred and fifty dollars in cash, and a condom… classy. She looked at the ID again, it listed his birthday as 01-24-1979, “What?”

Okay, so today was also his birthday. That felt too coincidental to be a coincidence.

Absently, she took a drink of water. If this was a dream, it was the most mundanely detailed dream she’d ever had, the water tasted like chlorinated tap water. She started to pull one of the credit cards out when a cell phone sitting on the bar in front of her, had that been sitting there this whole time, started to ring with an obnoxious metal guitar riff. She grabbed it up and looked at the caller ID. It was her own cell number!

Quickly answering she said, “Hello?”

“Please tell me your name is Jessica.” a woman’s voice said.

“Um…”

“My name is De… uh… James Page, that’s my phone you’re talking on, please tell me that you’re Jessica Moore?”

It sounded weird when heard from the wrong end of a phone call, but she recognized her own voice speaking back to her.

“Yeah, yes, that’s me… what’s happening?”

The woman on the other end of the phone gave a loud sigh before continuing. “Thank god, it’s just a straight swap. Okay, so, this would normally sound really unbelievable, but you already seem kinda freaked so I’m guessing you’ve noticed that we seem to have switched bodies.”

“But, I mean how is that, how is this even possible?” Her heart was pounding in her ears. This is crazy, it’s crazy…

“Did you make a wish when you blew out your birthday candles, Jessica?”

“What? Why is that important?”

“Well, you see, today is my birthday too. Happy Birthday by the way. And I uh, I made a wish right before I opened my eyes in your body. So I’m wondering, since I know you’d just blown out the candles on your cake, did you make a wish too?”

“I… I did, yeah.”

“Okay, good. What did you wish for, exactly?”

She looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to her conversation before replying. “I wished I knew more about my boyfriend’s family.”

“Huh. Okay. Who’s, uh, who’s your boyfriend? What’s his name?”

“Sam… Winchester. Do you know him?”

There was a slight pause. “No. But I’m guessing he’s the really tall guy, soulful eyes, needs a haircut?”

“He doesn’t… I like his hair, but, yeah I guess that sounds like him.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

“Wait, what did you wish for?”

There was a longer pause before James continued, “To find someone I haven’t seen in a while. I dunno maybe they’re around here somewhere? Where am I?”

“Palo Alto. Uh, that’s in California. Sorry, maybe you already knew that. Where am I?”

“Missouri, kinda middle of nowhere honestly. Sorry about that. Look this may not have anything to do with our specific wishes, right? Maybe things just got mixed up because we both made wishes at the exact same time? I don’t really know how all this Freaky Friday stuff works. But with any luck it’s temporary and everything will be back to normal tomorrow.”

She closed her eyes and rubbed her hand over her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. “How is this even real?”

“I don’t know. Look, there’s a set of car keys in my right front pocket, they’re to a black ‘67 Chevy Impala parked out front. It’s an automatic, can you drive?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, good. If you turn right out of the parking lot, go about a mile down the road to the Sleep EZ Motel, I’m checked into room 12. The room key is in my other pocket. My stuff is already inside and the room is paid up until the end of the week, so you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. Just don’t hurt my car and don’t get me killed, okay?”

“Wait, that’s it? I’m just supposed to wait?”

“Unless you’ve got any other bright ideas?”

“What about Sam? My friends? What are you going to do?”

“Hopefully? Nothing. I’ll pretend to be you, promise not to get you hurt or screw up your life, okay? And like I said, with any luck this’ll all sort itself out in the morning.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Well, I guess we’ll deal with that tomorrow.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Hey, Jessica?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me a little about yourself.”

~~~

Dean hung up the call and deleted it from the phone’s call history. When this was all over, the last thing he wanted was for there to be any way for this to get traced back to him. He tucked the phone back in Jessica’s purse and looked in the mirror.

She was a hottie, Sammy had good taste. Long blonde hair, big blue eyes, full pouty lips, and with a body… Dean gave a quiet whistle. Then he looked around furtively, as if anyone else could see him in the bathroom and somehow suspect him of doing something pervy, but then he thought, fuck it, possession is 9/10ths of the law, right?

Biting his bottom lip and pulling his shirt up, exposing a lacy bra and a really nice set of tits. Cupping them with his hands, feeling their weight, massaging them a bit and feeling his nipples get hard in response was hot enough but looking in the mirror was almost too much, like watching porn that you could actually feel. Until he caught his own stare, the face of some girl that he’d just spoken to on the phone looking back at him, and it hit home that this was someone else’s body that he was a guest in.

“Ah, shit.” he said to the reflection and pulled the shirt back down, smoothed it into place. He looked down, thinking about how weird it felt to not have a dick. He looked at the toilet reflected behind him. Maybe he should at least try to pee while he was in here.

“Sorry, Jessica, but somehow I don’t think either of us is going to be able to avoid peeing all night.” It took him longer than he'd anticipated, what’s so hard about peeing after all, but there was the confusing clothing and then the wiping, and new sensations that came with that, which he definitely tried to not pay too much attention to, and then the readjustment of the clothing.

When he was done and verified in the mirror that he looked normal, you know, for being someone completely different, he took a step towards the door and froze with his hand on the doorknob.

Okay, you can do this. Just go downstairs and pretend to be a girl. How hard can that be? Just go pretend to be Sam’s girlfriend. He’s only, like, the smartest guy you’ve ever known, who’s been trained since he was a kid to notice when a situation isn’t right, when someone isn’t themselves, when they’re actually a monster… Fuck.

He took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door. No, it’s cool. You’re cool. You can do this. You’ve bluffed your way through more dangerous situations with less information to go off of. And Jessica told you enough to fake it for one night. It’s just one night…

“Jess,” Sam was looking at him when he came down the stairs, his face lit up despite a shadow of concern. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Dean smiled and walked towards him.

As he got within reach, Sam wrapped one arm around Dean and pulled him in snug against his side. Then Sam leaned in and kissed the top of his head, just like Dean used to do before Sam had the audacity to get taller than him. Dean didn’t need to fake his smile but then a wave of guilt threatened to well up, he thinks you’re her, and he had to look down, swallowing thickly. Sam gently squeezed him in a one armed hug.

When they were kids, Sam had been very touchy-feely, clingy, always in close contact with Dean, casual, almost unconscious, but now, unlike then, it seemed a lot less casual. Heat, of a sort that wasn’t just physical, flared up with every touch. And Dean could have convinced himself that it was just Jessica’s body responding in a sort of pavlovian way to a still newish lover. But the problem was, Dean knew better.

Sam’s hands were huge and gentle and warm, so fucking warm, against his side, Jessica’s side, his arm, her arm, his back, not his, his hip… It was maddening but he just needed to play along, like it wasn’t destroying him. Over the years Dean had fine tuned his resolve to push all of this away and shut it up behind a door marked “Stuff You Don’t Get to Have", and now, with a series of simple touches, Sam had unknowingly jimmied the lock and opened the door. Sam was always so good at opening doors.

The summer between Sam’s junior and senior years of high school, before the Stanford bomb had been dropped on their lives, John had been chasing down yet another lead on what had killed mom. Dean had no idea what it was, where he went, because he’d given him practically no information, which was beyond frustrating, but kinda par for the course. But John had left them with Bobby because it had been on his way, apparently.

While they were there, Dean helped Bobby fix cars, and what they couldn’t fix, they’d strip down for parts. Sam had gotten a job at a restaurant washing dishes. It was grueling in the heat and he’d be reeking of garbage from taking out the trash at the end of the night. But Dean would always be there, waiting to drive him back to Bobby’s. He’d have a cold beer open and waiting for Sam when he was showered and in clean clothes. More often than not, they’d watch a movie on the tv, choosing from Bobby’s collection of vhs tapes. They’d take over Bobby’s couch, sprawling and slowly gravitating towards each other, leaning together and laughing over what they were watching. They kept their voices quiet so as to not wake Bobby, who inevitably fell asleep in his armchair or was already up in bed. Sam had been more relaxed and at ease than he had been in a couple of years.

Life was simple and Dean felt just about as free as he could ever remember feeling, without the weight of expectations, there in that safe place and time.

When John came back he was short-tempered and easily bristled. Things between John and Sam, always rough, had gotten steadily worse. John was harder on them both, trying to establish his authority, which only made Sam withdraw when dad was around.

Sam started talking about leaving together, just going somewhere and getting real jobs, the kind that paid in cash instead of scars. But Dean wouldn’t think about it, well, he wouldn’t let Sam think that he was thinking about it. Kept putting it off, until it was too late and Sam was leaving for real, full ride to fucking Stanford, and one last attempt to get Dean to come with him. He’d pulled Dean aside while he was packing, held onto his hand like they were still little kids, “Come with me.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to stay here, you can come to California…”

“I can’t just leave.”

“Why not?”

“Because Dad…”

“Dad is going to self-destruct, Dean, this life is going to kill him and if you stay… if you stay,” Sam’s eyes were swimming in unshed tears that he swallowed back before continuing, “You don’t have to stay. You can do anything, Dean, anything.”

And Dean almost believed that, for one long torturous moment, looking at his brother, the only person that stood any chance of convincing him to break away from his dad, from this life, Dean could almost see it. Sam pulled him closer, slid his hands behind Dean’s neck and rested their foreheads together, silently begging. And that door in Dean’s mind cracked a bit and threatened to break open. Sam didn’t want all that, didn’t want… no. Dean slammed the door closed and locked it.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” Dean took a deep breath and placing his hands on Sam’s shoulders did the hardest thing he’d ever done, he pushed Sam back enough so he could clearly see his face and said, “I’m not going.”

Shock, grief, embarrassment, hurt and anger all seemed to flash across Sam’s face at once, but it was the anger that stayed long after the others had been packed away. The anger was what Dean had seen when he closed his eyes that night, thinking about Sam on a Greyhound to California.

But here, now, he leaned in and closed his eyes, drinking in the feel of being next to his brother for the first time in years. He breathed in and could smell Sam,even though his mind was having trouble processing the scent. It was Sam, he smelled just like he always did, but it was like this body, which didn’t have the same sensory memory of a childhood spent together in the Impala and rundown motels, processed the scent through different filters, all of which were good, all of which lit up like fireworks with each breath, and shot that giddy, new love/lust feeling through him mixing with his memories.

Sam’s hand was curled loosely around Dean’s, Jessica’s, hip, his thumb resting on the waistband of his skirt again, long fingers flexing in and gently pressing into the hollow of his hip bone, and it was doing things that were steadily eroding what tenuous self-respect Dean had.

Sam would kill him if he found out that this was him and not Jessica. Shit, maybe he should have said something right away.

“Wait, so if the wish is what switched you then that means that when I kissed… Dean, you kissed me back!”

Yeah, no, too late for that now, he just needs to make sure that Sam never finds out.

They made small talk and drank. Jessica was a lightweight, which Dean found out as he was finishing off his third beer. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a room lurch that hard on three beers. He stumbled slightly as he stood up to get another. Sam reached out a steadying hand.

“Whoa. Easy there.”

Dean laughed it off, “I got it, I’m good.. Anyone ever tell you that you worry too much?” Dean said, softening it with a smile that may have been a bit more shmoopy than he’d intended, but it seemed to do the trick as Sam held up his hand in an “I give up” sort of gesture and let Dean duck into the kitchen.

There were photos stuck all over the fridge, and Dean recognized several of the people from tonight, including Sam. He studied them all while he drank a glass of water before grabbing a couple more beers from the fridge. There was a bottle opener on the coffee table and, sitting back down next to Sam on the sofa, Dean popped the top off one beer and sat it in front of Sam before popping the top of the other for himself.

Sam huffed an amused breath through his nose. Dean looked at him, took in the bemused look and asked, “What?”

“It’s nothing, just,” Sam laughed and shook his head, “you just reminded me of someone.”

Shit. “Oh? Who?”

Before Sam could answer, the conversation in the room reached shrill levels when Bria announced that her boyfriend Brad had proposed to her.

“Jess, I’m sorry, I wasn’t going to say anything because tonight’s your night, but…” the bottle blonde held out her left hand to show off a glittering diamond.

Everyone spent the next half an hour or so congratulating Bria and Dean tried his best to play at being interested. He was worried that that somehow he’d given himself away but Sam was smiling at him again, all dimples and teeth and just pure fucking sunshine, and Dean inwardly breathed a sigh of relief and smiled back. He was simultaneously too drunk and way too sober for this situation.

~~~

Jess should have left and found the motel, but what was she going to do in some guy’s random motel room until morning? Pace around and worry? Staying put seemed like an easier option, doing nothing usually was, at least for now. Absentmindedly she picked up the glass of bourbon and took a sip. It burned a bit but tasted surprisingly okay. She thought that James obviously drank the stuff and his taste buds must be used to it. She kept sipping at it.

This couldn’t be happening, it had to be a dream.

She realized that she had to pee. She’d had to for a little while now but had been unconsciously putting off dealing with it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the sort of thing that could be ignored forever. Looking around, she spotted the restrooms. She turned around on the stool and stood up, ready to be wobbly after drinking and being in someone else’s skin. But she felt solid, and strong. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar again it occurred to her that she was going to have to use the men’s room.

This was most likely just a dream, she could do this.

Luckily, since the bar was practically empty, the bathroom was too. Stall or urinal, that was the question. She opted for a stall, just in case someone came in, it felt less weird that way. Closing the door behind her, she stared down at the toilet before looking at the front of the jeans she was wearing. For the first time she thought about the fact that some guy was in her body and would probably have to pee at some point too. Ugh.

Well, she could do this, it was just peeing, everyone does it, right? She unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped, then pulled the waistband of the boxer briefs away and down with her left hand while reaching in with her right.

Okay, yeah, weird.

A couple moments later, she was washing her hands at the sink. That was definitely an experience, odd but kinda fun in a rather intrusive feeling way.

She looked at her reflection, really studied it since she wasn’t being watched. She smiled, frowned, and tried a whole range of emotions. Damn, this guy was attractive. Big green eyes with lashes she would have killed for, freckles, perfect lips, and he was tall too, although not as tall as Sam. And he was in great condition, not like one of those guys that works out in a gym all the time, but strong and lean, solid. His hands were callused, knuckles scarred, like he worked with his hands.

“Who are you?” She asked as she looked in the mirror again before leaving the bathroom.

Sitting back down on the barstool, she caught the bartender’s attention. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Jeremy.”

She nodded. “Can I get another, Jeremy?” and she tapped the empty bourbon glass with the silver ring on her right hand before sliding it forward.

He nodded, grabbed a bottle and poured a generous amount in the glass. “You feeling better?” he asked as he slid the glass back towards her.

She nodded, “Eh. It’s been a weird night.”

“Not the best birthday?”

“No. I was supposed to spend it with my boyf…” she stopped herself suddenly and tried to switch gears, “I had plans, that, no offense, didn’t include this fine establishment.” Shit, she’d almost outed this guy that she didn’t even know. Maybe he was into guys, but maybe not, how would she know, and it was always better to be safe than sorry when literally walking in someone else’s shoes.

Jeremy, if he noticed the slip, didn’t give any indication of being bothered by it. He leaned on one elbow against his side of the bar. “Are you traveling for work or something?”

She looked at him, honestly not sure how to answer that question. She knew she had a room at a motel nearby, but why?

Before she could answer, Jeremy continued, “I mean, there’s not a whole lot of here here, you know? This is not really a destination. And,“ he leaned a little closer and spoke in a more conspiratorial tone, “you’re like an eleven compared to the locals.” He nodded at the few other patrons and cracked a smile.

Okay, so maybe he had picked up on her little slip, but she didn’t think he was a threat, so she just laughed it off and took a sip of her drink.

~~~

Later, standing in the kitchen trying to follow some random friend group drama that could have almost been a telenovela storyline, Sam had come up behind Dean and wrapped him in a hug, hands crossed over his waist, his face nuzzled into his hair behind his ear. Dean’s eyes closed as a delightful shiver ran through him and settled between his legs.

“Ugh, get a room, you two!” Sam’s friend Brady said, teasingly.

Without looking, Sam grabbed a handful of chips out of the open bag on the counter and threw them right at the guy’s face, who actually managed to catch one in his mouth to raucous applause.

“Come on.” Sam breathed, low and quiet in Dean’s ear, and threading their fingers together, steered him out of the room.

“What? Where?”

“It’s getting late and I promised, didn’t I?”

Dean didn’t know how to respond because he had no idea what Sam was talking about.

~~~

Jessica sipped at the bourbon, not sure if she enjoyed the taste or not but the smooth burn was sort of growing on her. She sipped and she thought about what she should, or even could, do. Trapped in a stranger’s body, in an unknown town, states away from anyone she knows, what were her options? She could go find the motel room that matched the key in her pocket, and what? Watch crappy motel tv until she falls asleep in some stranger’s bed, hoping that she wakes up in her own body in the morning? That honestly sounded depressing as fuck. So she stalled, and sipped, and sat, and tried not to completely freak out.

~~~

His little brother was all hands, huge, long, spidery, gentle hands. Hands that covered so much, especially on Jessica’s smaller body. He smoothed over his… her long hair, down his… dammit, her arms, down her back. Eyes shining and bright, open as if to not miss anything, to catch every reaction as he walked backwards into a room to the right of the bathroom, Sam finally stepped back out of Dean’s space enough to let the warm flickering glow light up his face. The room was lit by half a dozen candles, on the dresser, the nightstand, on top of the bookshelf. Dean’s eyes went wide. Oh.

Oh no. This was, shit, this was… he looked at Sam. This was bad, he told himself. He couldn’t, it was too much, too far.

Sam, still smiling, was now a little unsure, a little embarrassed, “Too much?” His hand was rubbing gently up and down on Dean’s back, Jessica’s back, fuck, like he just couldn’t stop touching her.

Dean tried to say something, screaming internally at himself to find a way out of this, screwing things up between Jessica and Sam would be better than… He swallowed and opened his mouth, piecing together some sort of excuse, but all thought evaporated as Sam bit his bottom lip, all dimples and glinting eyes, and leaned in. Dean didn’t mean to smile, it was a reflex, a reaction to the extreme absurdity of the situation, that’s all, it wasn’t because his heart fucking swelled at seeing Sam all lit up and happy, looking at him like that.

Oh, I’m a bad, bad person.

He couldn’t look away from Sam’s mouth. And then Sam was too close to see and he nosed into his hair, speaking right into his ear, warm breath sending shivers through him, “I promised you, tonight is all about you. I want to make you feel so good, see how many times I can make you come.”

And Dean felt hellfire flare up through him, burning his cheeks, making his thighs and inner muscles clench around a deep needful longing. A gasp escaped, unbidden, from his open mouth.

You do this and you really are the scumbag you’ve always felt like. This is the line, right here, right now.

But this was something that he would never get to have normally, only this freaky occurrence giving him an impossible chance to have everything he’d ever wanted, even if just for one night, even if under duplicitous circumstances, in someone else’s body, even if it meant burning in Hell eternally for it.

One of Sam’s thumbs brushed lightly over Dean’s lips, as his fingers curled into his hair, turning his head and mouthing at his ear, nipping at and rolling his earlobe between his teeth before tracing kisses along the underside of his jaw. Dean breathed out a shiver that went all the way down to his knees. Sam kissed right up to the corner of his open mouth.

Dean didn’t believe Hell was real, not really, not an actual place like the bible thumpers would have you believe, but this, even ignoring every other horrible thing he’d ever done, this would surely damn him… but maybe it would be worth it. He could have this, and Sam never needed to know.

He turned his head just a little and caught Sam’s lips with his own.

~~~

With the bar being as quiet as it was, Jeremy took to making small talk as the evening wore on, nothing heavy, nothing too personal, just talking about sports teams (luckily a topic she knew a fair amount about) and cars (which she didn’t but luckily most guys didn’t take much encouragement to go on about that sort of thing without much more than a few interested prompts), but he was nice and kind of funny. It was better than stewing alone in her thoughts.

By the time Jess had had another bourbon, man did this James guy have a higher tolerance than she did, she had loosened up a lot.

So what if she’d probably experienced a psychotic break or something and was now trapped in this weird-ass dream, or maybe worse that she was really stuck in some dude’s body on her birthday and was now drinking alone in some shitty bar. She blinked, god was this what James’ life was like? Hopefully this was just a bad day or something. She at least had a party with all her college friends and Sam… Sam. Shit, James better be playing it cool, like he’d said he would, and not be doing anything to fuck things up between her and Sam.

~~~

For a moment, when he kissed Sam, SammySam oh fuck SAM, he’d forgotten all about his hands, like they didn’t even exist, like nothing existed outside of the bursts of confused chaos in his mind and how kissing Sam seemed to short circuit everything.

Good! No, no! I can’t. Stop. Ohhh god, right, this is right. Can’t. Fuck, finally!

Every part of his borrowed body felt like it was blushing, like he should be legit glowing, and there was this warm, aching, wetness that he was suddenly very aware of between his legs. It was a lot like how he normally felt when turned on, just not as focused, deeper inside and suffused throughout his body. He also found that he was very, very aware of his tits, every move, each breath as they lifted and fell, the way the fabric of the bra and shirt moved, every touch against Sam, he could feel all of it, and was aware of it all at once, and yet craved more. Sam’s hands were in his hair, cradling his head as they kissed. His lips tasted like home.

You can touch him!

And just like that, a lifetime of suppressed impulses and denied wants let loose as he placed his hands on Sam’s sides. Lightning-like desire, in all its terrifying glory, zapped through him, along his fingers and up his arms at the contact. Sam was solid, still lean and lanky with youth, but no longer a kid, not his little brother. Big.

It wasn’t like Dean never touched him, hell, he’d probably touched him more than anyone else. But that was different, it was checking on him, cleaning him up, bandaging and mending, little kid snuggles and hugs, holding his hand as they crossed the street, shoulders leaning together as they sat and joked quietly, just the two of them. This, though, this, was the edge of the map. Here, there be monsters, and his pulse pounded like he was on a hunt.

He ran his hands up over Sam’s chest, feeling the lines of the muscles beneath his shirt as Sam slid one of his hands down Dean’s back, pulling him closer, pressing them together. He didn’t stop at his waist this time, his hand continuing down over Dean’s ass to cup and squeeze. Dean moaned, just a little and in a way that he hadn’t expected, and his hands moved up across Sam’s shoulders and neck and into his hair, fingers tangling in his nape and pulling Sam down, or himself up, it didn’t matter which as long as they somehow got closer. Dean instinctively wrapped his legs around Sam’s hips when he lifted him up, one hand under Dean’s ass, across the back of his thighs, the other still cradling the back of his head. Sam shifted, holding Jessica’s weight easily and Dean wondered if Sam had gotten strong enough to lift his own actual body the same way. That thought made his breath hitch.

Sam pushed the door shut with one foot and then took three strides to cross the room before he dropped them both down onto the bed. Sam caught himself with his elbows, so his weight didn’t come down on Dean all at once as he bounced, a laugh bubbling out of Dean, met with a smile from Sam.

Sam looked at him for a moment, brushing hair from Dean’s face, Jessica’s face, Dean reminded himself. Sam was looking at Jessica like that, like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and like he wanted to eat her up. Jealousy at the realization sparked in Dean, but it was quickly quelled because Sam looking at Jessica like that meant that Dean could look back through her in a way he never could through his own eyes.

He took in Sam’s bright, clever, magic-colored eyes, and his pointed nose that made him look fox-like and clever. That mole beside his nose, that Dean always wanted poke or to kiss, depending on the day. His hair that, from this angle, spread around his face like a dark halo and reminded Dean of that photo of Jim Morrison, the one where his arms were spread and his chest was bare. He looked like the hero of some Greek myth and he was painfully beautiful.

Then Sam was kissing him again, little nibbling kisses that wandered along his jaw, sending delicious shivers through him. Sam’s hand found the bare skin at his waist, fingers spread out across his stomach, up under his shirt to his ribs as he kissed his way down Dean’s throat.

Dean leaned his head to the side, stretching his neck as he arched up into Sam’s touch. Sam’s fingertips traced along the bottom of his bra, brushed the underside of his breast. Holy shit.

He’d gotten so caught up in the fact that this was Sam, SamSammy, that he’d almost completely glossed over the fact that he was in a woman’s body and was going to experience sex, with Sam, in a body with girl parts! What was, possibly, most disturbing was how onboard he was for this ride. Like, if he was completely honest with himself, the Sam thing had always been there, usually it was forcibly shoved into the furthest, deepest, darkest corner of his brain, and locked down tight, but sometimes it escaped and made it almost to the surface before he’s wrestle it back down again and did his best to ignore it. But beyond an occasional fleeting thought about what the woman he was with was feeling as he went down on her, thrust into her, well, he’d never actually fantasized about actually feeling whatever they felt. The prospect was surprisingly thrilling.

And this isn’t gay (or incest) if it’s Jessica’s body. That thought sent a cold shiver through him, followed very closely by a rancid tendril of self-disgust. What the hell was the matter with him?

But then Sam was cupping his breast, warm hand giving a massaging little squeeze, the nipple genty pinched in the V between his thumb and index finger, sending sparks of pleasure through him and distracting him from his thoughts. Dean had always liked having his nipples played with during sex, well, he really liked having everything played with during sex, but now, though? It was just so much more.

Sam pushed his shirt up, kissed him through the fabric of the bra, before giving a little, demanding “Off.” and worked both the shirt and bra off, undoing the back clasp one handed, that’s my boy. And then his mouth was on him again. Dean’s hands were on Sam’s shoulders, then in his hair as he lavished attention on his tits. And, yeah, definitely an area deserving of all the attention Dean was prone to give because it felt fucking awesome. Before the sensations could become too much, Sam would shift his focus to the other side, kissing and sucking, biting (which felt amazing) and pulling little gasps out of Dean.

Dean squirmed a bit, suddenly desperate for some sort of friction between his legs. Like he’d sensed it, Sam ran one hand down, using little more than the weight of his hand, over the fabric of his skirt, and rubbed, pushing a bit more with his middle and ring fingers, curving with his body, right down between Dean’s legs. It wasn’t quite like having his dick rubbed, the feeling a little more muted, more spread out. But the warmth that spread through him felt familiar as did the desire it inflamed. And he pushed his hips against Sam’s hand seeking more pressure.

The biggest difference Dean felt was where he normally would have wanted to push into his partner, to thrust into them, all he wanted now, the desire that consumed his mind, was that he needed something inside him, stretching him, filling him. This hollow, wanting, ache was new but made him unbearably warm and desperate. And he wondered, not for the first time, about how much of it was coming from Jessica’s muscle memory, because while it was new to him, it felt so perfectly right and natural in this body.

With a final playful pull on one of his nipples, sucking hard before letting it drop and the weight of the breast bounce back against Dean’s chest, Sam kissed his way down across his stomach. Jessica was a bit ticklish, it would seem, because the light scrape of Sam’s stubble sent delightful tremors through Dean. Not enough to make him laugh or pull away, but enough to make him smile.

This is crazy. This is crazy. This can’t be real. I must be dreaming. This is some weirdass fever dream. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Sam reached the waistband of Jessica’s skirt, kissing and tonguing over Dean’s belly button as he worked loose the zipper and slid the fabric down, chasing it with his mouth. Dean lifted his hips so Sam could slide it the rest of the way down and off his legs, leaving him in just delicate, barely there, panties. They were silky and pink and Dean flashed back hard to six years ago, to Rhonda Hurley looking at him wearing her panties like she wanted to eat him alive, a look that was mirrored now in Sam’s eyes as he slowly looked up his… Jessica’s body. Dammit.

That look wasn’t Dean’s, it wasn’t for him. Sam was looking at Jessica like that. Fuck he shouldn’t do this. He needed to say something, stop this somehow.

“Sam…” He pleaded, but it came out too breathless and wanting, needing, and Sam smiled and leaned down, placed a kiss right on the silky pink stretched over the center of all the warmth Dean was feeling and hummed against him.

“Hmm?” and then he kissed a little lower and looked up from under his bangs as he gently stroked one hand up Dean’s thigh, fingers spreading so wide, hot and thrilling. He placed another kiss, this time below the curve of where Dean could see, so he couldn’t see Sam’s mouth as it pressed the fabric right into the wetness between his legs. Sam nosed in then and breathed deep. “All this for me?”

Dean bit down on his bottom lip, part of his mind still desperately trying to get control of this situation, to somehow, miraculously pull back before it was too late, when Sam looked up and locked eyes with him as he slowly, gently, bit the fabric covered mound, worrying it so slowly with his teeth before saying, in a voice deeper than Dean had ever heard him use, “God I want to eat you up. Will you let me? Let me just,” he licked, his tongue spread wide, right up over the now sodden crotch of those pink panties, “devour you?”

And the last vestiges of Dean’s attempts to be a better person crumbled. If he was going to hell, and he was definitely going, then he was going to make damn sure that he got the maximum value out of the trip.

“Yeah.” he said as he reached out and ran his fingers down Sam’s hair, his thumb brushing Sam’s cheek as Sam, SamMySammyMine, smiled his sharp, clever, mischievous smile and pulled the panties off and settled back between Dean’s legs, bending Dean’s knees up and over Sam’s shoulders. One hand going up Dean’s side, his long arm easily allowing him to cup around one breast, while the other spread, fingers splayed, across the tight skin below Dean’s navel, pressing down with gentle pressure to still the squirming Dean hadn’t even realized he was doing.

~~~

The last of the other customers paid up his tab and left. Jessica threw back the rest of her drink.

“What do I owe you?” she asked as she stood up to pull James’ wallet out of his pocket. The gravity in the room lurched violently to the left and she had to catch herself by clutching the edge of the bar. She barked out a laugh and sat back down on the stool. “Whoa.”

“Easy there.” Jeremy said. “No rush.”

He slid another glass of water over to her with a smile. She nodded and gratefully took a drink. It was cold and even though it still tasted a little too much like chlorine to be called good, she knew it would help.

“It’s cool, take your time, I’ve got a bunch of things to do to close up so you don’t have to leave just yet.” He said with a smile.

~~~

Sam’s attention focused between Dean’s spread legs, nosing into the trimmed little bush before licking along the folds of his pussy. His tongue, a wide and warm pressure, different from anything Dean had experienced before. It wasn’t like having his dick licked, which felt good right from the start. But the act was insanely intimate and definitely felt good, and the fact that it was Sam, samsamsam, made him shiver. And then the tip of Sam’s tongue dipped in and flicked across Dean’s clit and there it was! A burst of pleasure followed immediately by a desire for more.

A keening slipped from Dean’s throat, so much higher pitched than felt right to him. Looking down, all he could see was Sam’s shaggy brown hair and his fox-like eyes, pupils wide in the darkened room, looking back at him. Sam slid his hand down, long fingers spreading Dean open. Dean felt the air stir between his legs, cooling around the edges, and he realized just how wet he was. Sam licked again, taking his time, dipping in and flicking across before gently kissing that swollen bud of nerves and then doing it again, and again. Dean gasped when he used his teeth, normally something, as a guy, that would be a complete no-go, but the nipping and nibbling here felt good, really good, primal and hungry, and Dean wanted more.

Sam pushed his tongue in, deeper each time, as he rubbed Dean’s clit, pressing and circling, circling and pressing, sucking, biting, again and again until Dean’s hands had to move because Sam was holding his hips still, so he reached down and brushed Sam’s hair back, so he could see him better, then stayed in his hair, just holding, trying not pull. And his other hand went to his breast, kneading and then pinching the sensitive nipple. Everything combined and built up like a wave swelling, growing more and more, frantic, urgent, faster, and then he was pulling on Sam’s hair, which made him groan into Dean, the vibrations sending Dean crashing over. Sam continued to gently massage Dean’s clit, while fucking into him with his tongue, as wave after wave rolled through Dean.

Just as Dean was able to breathe again, Sam shifted around a bit so that he had both hands working, the one still spreading Dean open and working his clit in slow circles, while he pressed first one finger then two into him.

There was a punk rock girl out near Salt Lake, what was her name? Brenda something, shit he couldn’t think, but she’d had a thing for sticking her finger in her partner’s ass when they fucked her, and while she’d been enthusiastically into it, and it hadn’t been bad, it was weird, kinda good weird, but weird. It was nothing like this.

Sam leaned back in as he worked up a steady rhythm, and started tonguing and sucking his clit again. Dean was so sensitive it didn’t take long for him to feel everything building again. Sam had worked another finger in and curled them forward. It was a tried and true move that Dean had used on many, many occasions, and now he knew why it always worked so well, as he gasped and came hard, muscles fluttering hard around Sam’s hand.

“Samm… Sam,” remembering just in time, “please, oh fuck, mmm, I…”

“Hmm?”

“I need,” but he hesitated before voicing the rest, bit his bottom lip, was he really going to ask for it? From Sam?

“What? What do you need, baby?” Sam asked, his voice lower than Dean had ever heard it, deep but tender and pressed right between his legs, and damn if that didn’t light something up on the switchboard in Dean’s head.

No one but Dean would ever know if he just asked for what he wanted.

“Fuck me?” he said, quiet and unsure.

“Hmm, thought I’d stay here for a little longer, make you scream my name.” Sam slowly nosed in again and licked. “You taste so good.”

“Sam.”

Bright eyes staring up at him. “Mmm?”

“Are you really going to make me beg… on my birthday?”

Sam nodded as he nipped at the inner crease of Dean’s hip.

Dean let out a frustrated groan, “Please? Get up here and fuck me, Sam.”

Sam smiled, “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He sat back, pulled his shirt off and used it to wipe his hand and face before tossing it onto the floor. Shit, Sammy had filled out since the last time Dean had seen him and, reminding himself that he could look, he let his eyes linger on his brother’s torso. He realized he was mentally inventorying the scars he could see, there were no new ones, which was good. Sam’s belt buckle jangled a little as it came undone and he unbuttoned his jeans. Sam stood and pushed them down along with his underwear, black boxer briefs, and then was kicking them off to the side and slowly crawling back onto the bed.

Holy shit! HIs baby brother was built like a Greek god! How often was he working out? He was all slick, cut muscle, long limbs, and… In what universe was it even remotely fair that his little (no longer the operative word) brother had gotten bigger than him, apparently in every way? Dean was not a small guy, over six feet and packing a generously sized dick that he’d never, not once, gotten any complaints about. In fact, he’d received more than enough compliments to give him a, possibly, over-inflated sense of pride. Dean had an amazing cock, that he knew how to use. It was a source of great joy for him. And, he soothed his ego, it was hard to get a proper sense of scale, not having access to his own hands. But then Sam was grinning at him with his wickedly clever eyes and bright, dimpled smile again and Dean felt himself smiling back, his cheeks flushing as Jessica’s body responded to a new wave of want.

Sam crawled up over Dean, stretching his long body and skimming, not quite touching, over him, supporting his weight on his knees and hands. Just as Sam zeroed in on his lips and when Dean anticipated he would kiss him, Sam kept stretching past, reaching over and easily sliding open then closing the nightstand drawer. When he pulled back, a condom packet held by a corner in his mouth, he dragged it lightly across Dean’s skin, tickling slightly and forcing a giggle out of him that Dean would cringe over later when he replayed the moment. Sam sat back on his heels and tore open the packet. A wild thought, a desire, flashed through Dean, causing his cheeks to burn.

“Wait,” he said breathlessly.

Sam stopped and looked at him, concern overriding some of the confidence he’d shown just seconds before. But Dean was sitting up and reaching out, running his hand down Sam’s thigh as he smiled Jessica’s wide smile.

“Just, let me…” and he slid his hand up, his gaze meeting his grasp as he stroked Sam’s length. Hot, velvety soft skin twitched in the circle of Jessica’s manicured fingers. Dean blinked slowly, his eyes threatening to close, to block out such a transgression, but he made himself look, burning the image into his memory. He licked his lips as he shifted so he could lean forward. He just needed to know… if he was here, if he was doing this, then he needed it all, there’d never be another chance. He rubbed his thumb through the drop of precum beaded up on the head of Sam’s cock, spreading it slick across the head, and then kissed there. He looked up to find Sam staring down, eyes dark, mouth open, a blush high on his cheeks like he was drunk, and Dean licked slowly, tasting as he stared up at him.

Dean had never gone down on a guy before, although he’d received plenty of propositions over the years. But he’d eaten out more than his fair share of women and every one had tasted different, each one unique and special and divine, and this really wasn’t much different from that. Salty, a little bitter, not bad, just intimate. And he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a deep satisfaction to sucking the head of Sam’s cock into his mouth. Sam’s fingers slipped into Jessica’s hair, fingers spanning the width of her head and gently holding there, not pressing, not pulling, as he let out a slow breath.

Dean reached up with his free hand and took the opened condom packet from Sam as he swirled his tongue against the vein on the underside of his cock. And then he pulled back and slid the condom down and gave it a couple slow pumps with his fist to make sure it was rolled all the way down.

He sat up and crawled forward, capturing Sam’s bottom lip as he pressed against him. Sam’s hand let go of his hair and like earlier, he pulled Dean in like he weighed nothing, hands engulfing his hips as he settled Dean on his lap. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck, reveling in the feel of his tits crushed up against Sam’s chest and Sam’s erection hot and hard between them. His hips rubbed forward, like they were seeking friction on autopilot.

“Sam,” he keened.

Sam lifted him again and lined himself up and lowered Dean onto him. Dean’s eyes rolled closed as he stretched and was filled in a way he’d never even dreamed. He’d never be able to claim that again, he was sure he’d never get the perfect feeling of them fitting together like this out of his mind. And as his hips once again seemed more in control of things than he was, he gave some experimental grinds, and looked at Sam whose eyes were closed, his brow furrowed a little in concentration, and he looked… beautiful.

“Sam?”

Sam opened his eyes, his pupils blown wide in the candlelight and a look of pure want on his face, and he was the most gorgeous thing that Dean had ever seen. He circled his hips, trying to find the leverage to do more when Sam lifted him again, easily taking Jessica’s weight in his arms and began to thrust up. As he repeated the movement, again and again, Dean let his head fall back, his eyes closing, Sam’s mouth kissing hungrily along his jaw and down his neck, teeth nipping, stubble on his chin rough, but never hurting, never bruising, no it was just enough to feel all the way down through to where they were connected.

With his eyes closed and head tipped back, the weight of Jessica’s hair hanging down, bouncing with every forceful thrust, Dean could only hold on, losing himself in the sensations. Sam ran a hand up Dean’s back, his hand tangling in and gently but insistently pulling, causing Dean to arch further back. Sam kissed down, captured one of his nipples, his other hand sliding low across Dean hips, thumb finding and pressing into his clit and the combination of all those sensations pushed him up and over that cliff again. Being so full, having something… his brother’s cock, a thought that he really shouldn’t be so completely good with… inside him, for his muscles to squeeze, and with so much skin-on-skin contact for him to clutch onto, pushed everything up, and up, and over.

When Dean could focus again, he lifted his head, eyes meeting Sam’s, Sam who was still fucking him, and holy hell if his (not so) little brother wasn’t a goddamn freight train. The thought brought a ridiculous swelling of pride with it, some misguided feeling that he’d had a hand in raising this absolute god of a man. Dean smiled, his mouth open with every breath that Sam pushed out of him, and he traced his fingers across Sam’s face, thumb dragging across his bottom lip before Dean leaned in and kissed him.

“Come on, Baby. Come for me? I want to feel you, come on.” he said in between kisses. Sam’s arms tightened around him, his pace speeding up. “ Come on, Sammy.” Dean breathed and he felt Sam’s body tense. He leaned back enough to see Sam’s face as he climaxed. Little aftershocks from Dean’s last orgasm were still pulsing through him as Sam twitched inside him.

When their heavy breaths slowed down to contented sighs, Sam pulled out, removed the condom and tossed it in a small trash can by the nightstand and twisted the two of them so they could fall onto their sides on the bed, his arms still around Dean, facing each other.

Sam brushed a thick lock of hair out of Dean’s face, his eyes alight with reflected, flickering candlelight. He was sweaty and his cheeks were still flushed and he looked contentedly fucked out and Dean couldn’t stop staring at him.

A bemused smile flashed across Sam’s face after a moment. “What?”

Dean didn’t have the words, so he just smiled with his borrowed face, hoping it conveyed the best part of the crazed tangle of things he was feeling. When Sam returned the smile, Dean leaned in and kissed him one last time before snuggling into his brother’s broad chest, his eyelids growing heavy.

Sam placed a kiss on the top of his head. “Happy birthday, Jess.”

Dean was glad that Sam couldn’t see his face because he knew the smile wasn’t reaching his eyes anymore.

Dean lay there until Sam’s breathing evened out into sleep. And then he steadfastly refused to give into the looming tidal wave of guilt that was threatening to drown him, closing his eyes, he breathed in the smell of Sam, letting all the memories it triggered carry him, finally, to sleep.

~~~

“So, I’m curious,” she asked, “you don’t seem too enthused about… wait, where are we again?”

Jeremy laughed, “Eastfield.”

“Right, right. You don’t seem too enthused about Eastfield. And you’re young, seem intelligent, so why…” she gestured around the bar. “You from here? Got family or something?”

“Nah, I mean, not exactly. I grew up near here. Went to college. While I was there, my dad got sick, cancer, so I came home to take care of him. And, I don’t know, after he passed I just didn’t go right back and now,” he shrugged as he moved glasses around, “I don’t know. I’m just sort of here because here feels as good as anywhere to be.”

Jessica nodded and took a sip of water.

“What about you? You’ve been here all night and haven’t mentioned what you do for a living once.” Jeremy carried a crate of glasses into the back, Jessica could hear it being set down, and then he was back again, leaning up against the bar across from her. “Most people don’t shut up about their jobs when they get talking here. It’s just a safe topic, you know? Not too personal but something that eats up most of their lives. But you?”

Jessica shrugged and smiled, taking another drink of water. Jeremy squinted his eyes a bit, pursed his lips.

“What if I guess?” He looked her up and down, clucking his tongue quietly. “A hit man for the Mafia? Is the Mafia still a thing?” He smiled.

She laughed, “I don’t know. But no, I’m not in the Mafia.” I think, she added internally.

Jeremy looked at her, watched her mouth as she smiled. “Are you a model or something… which as I’m saying it, sounds super cheesy.” he said with a bit of a blush rising high on his cheeks above his beard. He was flirting and she suddenly remembered that she wasn’t herself. He was flirting with the gorgeous guy who’d been drinking alone at his bar all evening.

“I don’t really want to talk about what I do, it’s just not…” she shrugged and took another drink of water, licking her lips. The room was still spinning a bit and she felt all warm and fuzzy, like this was all a weird but pleasant dream.

Jeremy leaned forward onto his elbows, only a foot or so of distance between them now. “SInce I’m already kinda making a fool of myself… you are, you know… really hot and it seems like a crime against humanity for you to be alone on your birthday.”

He had nice brown eyes, wide and clear and kind, and what should have been an overdone line came across as genuine. The only other guy she knew that could have pulled that off was Sam. Thinking of him caused a heavy lump of guilt to form in her stomach.

“And yet, here I am.”

He slid one hand closer, fingertips just brushing the backs of her knuckles where her hand was still curled around the glass.

She stared at his hand and thought about Sam, who was the best man she’d ever known, smart, sweet, funny, weirdly mysterious, how did he even know half the shit he knew? And she knew so little about his life, his childhood, just enough to know that it had been nomadic and traumatic. His mom had died when he was a baby, his dad hadn’t handled that well, and he had a brother, but he never wanted to talk about them. He was home, thinking he was with her (hopefully) if James wasn’t screwing everything up. But at the same time, the idea that Sam might not be able to tell that it wasn’t her… well, it rankled.

She looked over Jeremy’s shoulder and saw James’ reflection looking back. Maybe it was the drinks, she thought as she shifted her gaze back to Jeremy, or the dream-like unrealness of the entire evening, but she slowly licked her lips thinking about what it would feel like to kiss a guy using someone else’s mouth, a man’s mouth? Would it feel different?

There was only one way to find out.

She pushed up and forward slightly as Jeremy leaned further across the bar. They both hesitated when there were only a couple of inches of space between them, giving the other a chance to back out. Shyness was never something that Jessica suffered from. Quite the opposite. Throughout her life she’d been accused of being too forward, too bold and daring, too aggressive when she wanted something. She knew she was impulsive, but YOLO, right? She slid her hand around the back of Jeremy’s neck and pulled him into a kiss.

The beard was something new to her. It was scratchy-soft and tickly in a way that was not entirely unpleasant. His lips were soft though and he knew what to do with them. After a moment, they broke apart.

“Hey, come around. I, uh, I want to give you something.”

When she stood up this time she was steady. Walking around the bar, she felt a flush of excitement, like a spreading fire flowing from her cheeks, down her chest, and into her gut. She followed him through the doorway and into the back room where Jeremy turned and pushed her up against a wall with a big, laminated, OSHA poster taped to it.

He was a couple inches shorter, so she had to tip her head down to meet his lips, a feeling so opposite of what she was used to that it added to the overall surrealness of the situation. And then he stepped even closer, one leg wedging between hers, pressing against her, his hands cupping her head, fingers rubbing into her scalp, such a different experience with James’ short hair, but pulling a pleased noise from somewhere deep in her chest. When his hips ground against hers, she was startled at the sensation. All that pooling warmth in her gut was suddenly rushing to her groin, focusing with growing insistence. She could feel Jeremy, already so hard, pressing back and the sensation left her breathless.

“Can I?” He tipped his head down as his hand skated over the front of her jeans, lightly tracing the bulge of her cock. Shit, she had a cock and this guy wanted to…

Okay, so she didn’t know if James was gay, or into guys at all, and she was seriously dating Sam, she was, but when would she ever be given the chance to experience this from this side of the equation again?

“Yeah.” she said.

Jeremy kissed her again as he undid her belt and jeans, sliding his hand down to feel her through her briefs. Her hips pressed forward, chasing the warmth and touch of his hand. And then his mouth was gone. He sank to his knees as he pulled the waistband of her briefs down and freed her straining cock. And it was like watching porn that she could feel, looking down the long stretch of her borrowed body, flat stomach and hard on, flushed dark pink with short, dark curls around the base. And then Jeremy’s tongue licked slowly up along the bottom of her shaft before flicking across the tip. Oh! That felt… good! One hand gently held the base, angling the length for better access, while his other hand cupped warm around her balls, lifting and squeezing in a way that made a small gasp escape her lips. Jeremy stared up at her as his tongue darted out again and swirled around the head of her cock, like he was trying to burn the image into his memory. But when he sucked her into his mouth and she groaned and placed a hand gently in his hair, her mouth falling open, his eyes sank closed and he got to work.

Jessica had given head, she knew her way around a blowjob and took pride in the responses she got, but to feel it, oh it added an entire other level. She couldn’t help but note what worked vs. what didn’t work vs. what really worked. She had also been on the receiving end of oral in her own body many times, something that Sam was particularly fond of (and extremely good at), but while this was similar, it was also so completely different, everything sort of flipped around in a delightful way. Her head tipped back against the wall as she let the feelings take over. Despite having no direct experience on this side of a blowjob, she felt confident that Jeremy seemed to know what he was doing. She didn’t hold back her responses and he picked them up and ran with them.

She was still tipsy enough and this was all still so new and weird, she had no idea how long it lasted before she felt herself tensing up, everything building as he worked at an increasingly frantic pace. As if he could sense how close she was, and he probably knew better than she did, he pulled back just enough to look up and say, “Come on” before swallowing as much of her as he could. A couple more pumps and the pressure in her burst, flooding out of her in deliciously violent spurts, all of which Jeremy greedily took.

When she could focus again, and looked down, he had his own dick out and was coming in his hand, his forehead resting against her thigh, still on his knees. She ran her hand through his hair, unconsciously petting him as they both came down.

When he sat back and fixed himself back into his pants, she did the same. She offered him a hand and pulled him back up to his feet. Awkwardness threatening to set in, she just smiled at him, “Thanks seems like a bit of an understatement.”

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for hot birthday boys.” He laughed, cheeks glowing with a deep flush. “No pun intended.”

Her smile spread wider.

Walking out of the bar a few minutes later, Jeremy’s number written on the receipt in her pocket, only feeling a little awkward at how quickly the whole interaction wrapped up because he seemed honestly content, Jessica looked around the parking lot. James had said it was a classic car, but she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. The long, shiny, sleek lines of the absolute beast of a vehicle that was waiting for her was a surprise though.

She fished the keys out of her pocket and opened the door with a creaking squeak that spoke of old joints formed from heavy, solid, metal. She slid in behind the wheel and pulled the door shut.

“Okay. Just an easy drive over to the motel. You can do this.” Turning the key in the ignition, the engine roared to life. Nothing quiet or subtle about this car, but it felt right on a weird, deep level that she wasn’t sure was coming from her. She eased out of the bar’s parking lot and onto the blessedly deserted street, keeping it a bit below the speed limit, even though she could feel the car practically begging to go faster.

Then there was the motel, and she parked outside room 12, locked the car and went inside. The place was… well it wasn’t going to ever earn even three stars on any travel guide ever again, but it was sorta clean and had the basics covered, a bed, nightstand, little desk with a chair next to a dresser with a tv on it, open closet, and a dingy bathroom. She dropped the keys onto the nightstand, along with James’s wallet and phone, as she sat heavily on the side of the bed.

Exhaustion settled heavily on her and she felt like she was made of lead, but still managed to pull off her boots and started to lay down before stopping herself and grabbing the cheap pen with the motel name on it. She scribbled a quick note on the receipt, under Jeremy’s name and number. And then was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

~~~

The distinctive smell of stale, decades old, cigarette smoke and bleach hit him as Dean woke with a start. Sitting up and taking immediate stock of himself and his surroundings. Sunlight streamed in around the curtains, lighting up copious dust motes. The distant sound of a door banging shut reverberated through the walls.

He was still wearing what he’d been wearing when he’d left his body last night and had been sleeping stretched out on top of the covers on the bed in his motel room. His duffle bag lay seemingly untouched on the floor at the foot of the bed.

He rubbed his hands over his face and scrubbed at his hair a few times.

His wallet, keys, and phone were on the nightstand next to a note, which he picked up and read. The handwriting wasn’t his. And as he looked he realized it was likely written by two different people.

Jeremy 555-823-3467 was written in one hand, while the rest was another, messy and unsure.

You may not want to go back to that bar.

“Huh.” he tossed the note onto the bed, got up and walked to the window. A quick check outside verified that his car was there and seemed in one piece.

~~~

Jessica woke up slowly, warm and comfortable. She stretched and felt the familiar feel of her own body and smiled. The smile dropped entirely as she realized that she was naked and not alone. Sam, also naked, stirred next to her as she moved.

The night before settling like a brick in her stomach. She knew what she’d done, and would carry the guilt of cheating on Sam, but if she was honest with herself, which she tried hard to be, she believed that the extraordinary circumstances were something that she would have regretted not taking advantage of. Right or wrong, she’d made her choice and she’d live with that. But the idea that some random guy had used her body the same way, with her boyfriend, and that it turned out that Sam hadn’t noticed anything wrong, which either said a lot about how poorly he knew her, or about how good James was at pretending to be someone he didn’t really know, well, that weighed on her in a much more unpleasant way.

It wouldn’t be for another year and a half before that strange, surreal night would come sneaking back into her life in a fittingly bizarre and unexpected way.

Looking at that too handsome face again standing so close to Sam as she flipped on the light in their living room, made the floor feel like it was going to drop out from under her.

“Sam?”

“Jess. Hey. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica.” Sam said, still slightly out of breath.

She blinked in surprise, “Wait, your brother Dean?”

Sam had never shown her any pictures of his brother, had only spoken about him a few times, and had made it sound like they were distant, estranged. She hadn’t ever questioned… why would she have questioned? This, what the hell was this? But before she could form any of her swirling thoughts into words, Dean stepped forward, an over-the-top leering grin on his face.

“Oh, I love the Smurfs. You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league.”

There wasn’t even a hint of recognition in his eyes, but she still felt the hairs on her arms rise with a sense of danger at the aggressive eye contact he’d fixed on her.

Later, as she watched Sam pack and assure her that he would be back in time for his interview on Monday, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was looming nearby. But she’d never told Sam about that night, it was insane, how could she have even begun to explain it? So she didn’t know now how to articulate why she didn’t want Sam to go. The idea that James was actually Sam’s brother, that he’d… that they’d…

Sam kissed her goodbye with promises of seeing her soon and then was out the door. A familiar rumble of an engine starting up outside, and then they were gone.

#wincest #wincest fanfiction #non con #extremely dubious consent #body swap #gender swap #sam/jessica #dean/sam #long post

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mikiemcsmitty · 2 months ago

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Fictober Day 1

prompt: "That was good work"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Rating: General

Summary:

Sam's POV: Dean attending Sam's school play "Our Town" (as referenced by Dean in season 1 episode 16)

Dad’s not here.

Of course, Dad’s not here, Sam thought to himself as he peeked out from the curtain.

Ever since he became a teenager and started developing his own interests, John had started giving him less and less attention. All of his parental attention was reserved for Sam’s more hunting-inclined older brother.

It wasn’t like Sam was really vying for his father’s attention in the first place; after all, John had no interest in anything but the chase. ‘Finding the thing that killed Mom’ had been his life goal for as long as Sam could remember. There wasn’t really room for John to be a dad to kids who weren't his perfect little soldiers. Dean could play that role well, but Sam… Sam wanted to have a normal life. A life that John couldn’t give him. At 8 years old Dean had to be the one to teach him how to throw a baseball and at 11 Uncle Bobby had to be the one to teach him how to ride a bike. All John did was teach him how to load a pump action shotgun with rock salt.

Sam was used to being dropped in a random motel in a random state to get through half a semester before being picked up to start over somewhere else. Six months was the longest he had ever been at one school. This new school in Colorado was nothing different. At least it wouldn’t be different if it wasn't his first semester alone, but Sam was starting his sophomore year without Dean. Ever since dropping out of high school to be a full-time hunter, Dean was hardly around anymore.

With all this newfound free time Sam decided to look into after-school activities to keep his mind off of how alone he now felt. It also let him stay at school longer so he didn’t have to walk half a mile back to an empty motel room so soon.

Drama club wouldn’t have been his first choice but the kids seemed nice and sometimes they would practice until 11 pm on Fridays so it was perfect for keeping busy.

Sam had an unnatural talent for acting developed from the years of having to lie to everyone around him including his own father sometimes. This landed him the role of George Gibbs, the male lead of the fall play.

-----

“So how's school going,” came Dean’s voice from the other end of the phone one week prior.

“It’s fine I guess,” Sam said flatly.

“Oh, come on you gotta tell me all the high school drama now that I'm not there to witness it myself.”

“I… wouldn’t know.”

“Don't tell me you’re spending all your time in the library again.”

“No... Dean look I gotta go–”

“No no no come on Sammy tell me how it's really going.”

Sam sighs. He knew Dean wouldn't understand his sudden desire to act but he opened up anyway. “I joined the drama club…”

There was a pause on the other end. “...I leave you alone for 2 months and you've already gone full-fledged geek.” Even though they were talking on a phone Dean could swear he could hear Sam’s eyerolls. “So are you playing Dorthy or are you more of a wicked witch kind of guy.”

“I’ll have you know I got the MALE lead roll,” Sam protested.

“Wait for real,” Dean said dropping the mocking tone.

His sincerity made Sam get self-conscious again. “Yeah… look just… dont tell dad ok?”

“Why not I'm sure he’d love to know how you're doing.”

“If he wants to know he can call me himself…”

Dean nods softly even though Sam can’t see it. “Well look, I gotta go for real now but... what day is the play?”

“It's next Friday,” Sam said with a sigh.

“Alright break a leg.”

-----

Sam looked out into the crowd again watching as other kids' parents filed in. He knew Dean well enough to know he would tell their dad despite his wishes but Sam didn’t expect John to actually do anything with the information. Despite that feeling, he couldn't stop himself from scanning the crowd every few minutes while they waited to start. Sure enough, there wasn’t a single familiar face anywhere to be seen.

When it was finally time to start Sam took his position and waited for his queue. Once the curtain finally rose he looked out and that's when he saw him. Not his Dad but one better. His older brother. Dean Rushed in clearly disheveled from not showering after a run-in with a monster. He was standing in the back and breathing heavily from running to get there in time but that didn’t stop him from waving at his little brother when they locked eyes.

"That was good work you did out there,” Dean said affectionately while ruffling Sam’s hair at the end of the show.

"Just you?" Sam asked. He didn't have to specify, Dean knew what he meant. Sam was wondering if Dad was coming or had any intentions of coming.

"Just me," Dean responded.

#fictober #fictober24 #writers on tumblr #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #ao3 #weechesters #october

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bingbongsupremacy · 7 months ago

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Want To Hunt

Pairing: Brother Sam & Brother Dean x platonic!younger sister reader

Warnings: Very cringe and short. I wrote this when I was in middle school. Originally from Wattpad.

Summary: You want to go hunting but your dad won't let you.

*Not Proof Read* Supernatural

********

Third P.O.V.

" But Dad! I wanna go! Come on, dad. I'm old enough now. You said, once I turn eleven, I could go on hunts with you and the boys! Come on, dad! I'm mature now! " Y/n yells annoyedly. Her dad, John Winchester, had said she could go on a hunt as soon as she turned eleven like Sam and Dean both did.

" Mature? Ha! You still watch Barbie and Friends on TV! That's mature. " Dean teases Y/n while ruffling her already crazy hair.

Y/n glares at Dean. " Dean, no one asked for your opinion. "

" Ooh. Sassy. " Sam chuckles, also ruffling Y/n's hair.

" Y/n, " John sighs. John rubs his temples. " for the last time, no. You're not going. That's final. "

Y/n huffs. " Daddy! You promised! Pinky promised! That's the most special kind of promise! What's the big deal?! You let Sam and Dean start hunting a little when they turned eleven! C'mon. I promise I'll be good. I'll do everything you say. I'll even listen to the two buttheads. " Y/n gestures to Sam and Dean. This isn't fair. It just isn't fair. What do Dean and Sam have that I don't? Oh, that's right. They're boys.

" Hey! We're not buttheads! " Dean and Sam say angrily at the same time.

Both John and Y/n ignore the boys.

" Forget my promise, Y/n! I don't want you getting hurt. This hunt is going to be dangerous. Very dangerous. Your brothers are more experienced, that's why they're going. Maybe next hunt you can go with us. Just not this time. " John pulls on his jacket and stands up before looking at Y/n. " I don't want you getting hurt. "

Y/n rolls her eyes. " It's not like I'm going to be taking on this thing by myself! You three will be there to protect me. "

" We can't spend every minute we're hunting, worried about you, Y/n. Next time, okay? " John pats y/n's arm before walking towards the motel door. " Come on, boys. Let's go. "

Y/n frowns. She never gets to do anything the boys do. It's not fair.

" Don't be sad sis. " Sam smiles gently as he looks down at his younger sibling. " When we come back, I'll teach you how to exorcise a demon. 'Kay? "

Y/n sighs and retreats to one of the beds. " Fine. I expect you to tell me every detail of this hunt when you come back though, okay Sammy? Dean-o? "

Dean nods. " Of course, N/N. "

Y/n watches as her dad and brothers leave. Sam pokes his head into the motel room before he closes the door. " Remember to keep this door locked. Don't answer it for anyone. Not even us. We'll use the key to get in. Keep the curtains closed, and stay here. "

Y/n nods. " Okay, Sammy. I know what to do. Bye. "

" Bye. "

Y/n flips through the TV channels, knowing that this hunt will take a long time.

#fanfiction #fanfic #dean winchester #x reader #xreader #x you #x female reader #sam winchester #x winchesters #x dean winchester #x sam winchester #x platonic!reader #x female y/n #familyreader #supernatural fanfiction

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mlobsters · 10 months ago

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supernatural s13e18 bring 'em back alive (w. brad buckner, eugenie ross-leming)

charlie? really? ok. her exit was horrendous so maybe this is trying to make up for that but the reunion tour of this era is making me real tired

CASTIEL Dean is in Apocalypse World, alone? SAM No, he's with Ketch, so he's not alone. CASTIEL Because that makes it so much better. SAM Cass, he wanted to go solo. CASTIEL And you let him? SAM I... He didn't give me much of a choice. Anyways, Dean's right. As long as he's over there, and we're here, we need to be taking care of Gabriel, getting him right again.

oh please, cas, like you're any better at it :p unless you just force-sleep everyone

cas, perhaps give sam more than 10 seconds of talking to gabriel before declaring it a lost cause. surprise surprise trying to force feed the clearly very traumatized gabriel grace back garnered a bad reaction. why are they having cas be an ass now suddenly. speight looks so tiny all huddled up compared to cas and sam

(forgot/don't care about the lucifer and danneel situation quite honestly)

jackles what was THAT. the most ridiculous fall. the backpack being yeeted 10 feet and the legs windmilling for no reason

great. of course.

KETCH Now then... this will smart. There we are. Good lad. Good lad. Good lad.

ok. i follow a horse rider in wales who is always saying 'good lad' to her horses in the same manner lol. okay this is too much. i'll just include both scenes in the clip

so first thing. i really like the sound design of cas doing his whatever in gabriel's head. we get the ringing associated with "enochian" yeah whatever bros. and also the background static along with the like, waves of something too far away so it's just more garbled static. worst description ever. imagine you're in a car driving across the country and you're trying to find a station but you're in the middle of bumfuck nothing. anyway, it's subtle but it's a nice touch. even if i think the execution of angel radio generally is kinda goofy, i like the angel radio can't find a station situation

secondly, i'm really not sure what they're trying to sell us here with this dean and ketch scene. the good lad'ing aside, there's also so some sort of weird eye contact moments that seem weirdly hot and heavy for these characters in this situation. it feels like they're trying to sell me on ketch and dean bonding and i'm 🙅 i can only stow so much baggage (like hey cas for example, that one doesn't stay stowed very well admittedly [i hold a grudge for the bad things he did but try not to because they don't]) I'M OUT OF ROOM. it's not rehabbing john winchester levels of 🚫 but it's up there.

SAM Gabriel, you have to dig yourself out of this hole. Look, I know you think it's safer inside. No more torture. No more pain. No more expectations. I've been there. You were nothing like your family. You sure as hell weren't like your dad. Me either. And just like you, I got out. Or I-I thought I got out. But then... then my family needed me. And this is my life. No matter how many times I tried to fight it, this is what I was put here to do. This is where I make the world a better place. And sure, yeah, hookers in Monte Carlo sounds great, but your family needs you. Jack, your nephew, needs you. The world needs you. We need you. Gabriel, I need you. So, please, help us.

oh my god this episode has too many moments i want clips of. this fucking speech sam is making is RIDICULOUS and now we got this swelling mushy music via horns so it feels vaguely like. militaristicor star wars, to go with the rousing THE WATERS RECEDED speech (jay gruska episode)

thank you for the john w shade, you know i'm always here for it esp since i just bitched about the show's attempts at rehabbing him over the years :p also, wonder what the "got out" is referring to - an actual stanford mention? rarities this day in age.

also like, why is everyone so mad at gabriel? give him more than a few hours? this is a whack ass episode, man. and ALSO, sam's impassioned and emotional, "i need you" like what is going on right now? what do they need gabriel for so badly? generally having a strong ally? i've lost the plot here.

i am really not here for dean reliving his manpain over the frustrating and maddening original killing of charlie as some bonding experience with mr ketchup.

gabriel killing asmodeus, ketch staying behind with charlie, and in fact they only weepily needed gabriel to fight with them and big surprise he wasn't interested and bailed. and no grace to make another portal. whatever, man. dean got to have a little temper tantrum over being stymied again (i get it, but i also flinch [and panic] when someone explodes like that)

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 13x18 #spn clip #spn mushy music #spn musical score #brad buckner #eugenie ross leming #jay gruska

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hahahahahangst · 1 year ago

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10 Things I hate about you (Be The Young 29)

GIANT TW which will be valid for each episode for suicidal thoughts, SELF H*RM, violence, cursing, relatives dying, mentions of s*x, s*xual assault

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will break canon (mostly from the S2 finale) but will try to get back into it for the sake of ✨ lore ✨ .

Summary: Emily Reed, born and raised in Portland, is preparing her admission papers for Stanford, medical school. Little does she know, her life is about to change forever.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

A/N: idk guys, call it the musical episode, it kind of is

MASTERLIST

10 things I hate about you

Sometimes I miss when we were in it

So I made a list so I never forget

All the things I hate about you

10, your selfish

“So, did the angels bring you back in time? Was it Castiel?” Asked Emily, hanging out in the back of the Impala, skimming through a book. They were traveling towards Missouri to help another hunter with a case.

“Yeah, I saw my parents and my grandparents.” Dean had just finished talking about how Castiel brought him back in time to explain to him what Azazel wanted from them. Of course Ramiel had not lost the chance of bringing Emily back as well.

“What did you see?” Asked Dean, not taking his eyes away from the road.

“You really want to know?” Emily scratched her nose.

“I’m actually kind of curious. Is dad involved?”

“Oh- trust me. He is.”

“So?”

Emily started telling her brothers how her whole story began. “Basically, my mom got pregnant with me out of revenge and spite.” She said. “She had a wonderful husband, caring, and they were perfectly normal. Her hunting life was behind her, for good. But there was just one problem.” Emily pretended to be the narrator of a movie and gestured in front of her mysteriously, leaning in between the front seats. “A problem that would change her life…“ She paused. “FOREVER!” She screamed and Dean and Sam smiled, clearly enjoying her scene. “That problem was… me, or better, the lack of me. She really wanted a child, but could not get pregnant.”

“Wait, how did she go from no kids to two kids?” Asked Sam, interrupting her imitation.

“Samuel, too much rush, you feel.” She suddenly switched to Yoda from Star Wars. “Shutting the fuck up, you must.” She cleared her voice and went back to talking suggestively. Sam seemed very amused. “I was saying… She could not get pregnant and so, desperate, she summoned a crossroad demon, expecting a normal deal. Ten years were more than enough for her to disappear and never be found again by him. Or at least, that’s what she thought.” She paused and looked at Sam and Dean, waiting for a sign of approval of her performance. Dean gestured to her to keep going. “HOWEVER!” She said, a little too loud for the size of the car. “The demon did not offer her ten years. He asked for her permission to come back to her house. He promised that nothing wrong was going to happen if she let him be. He did not specify how many times, and my mother didn’t ask.” She made another pause. “So, her wish was granted, but it was too late. When she came back home, she saw something nobody would ever want to see! Can you guess what it was?” She pointed to Dean, who shrugged. Sam, instead played her game and tried to guess: “Her husband was dead?”

“No.”

“Her husband was a shapeshifter?”

“No!”

“He was… a demon?”

“What?!” Laughed Emily.

“Ghost?”

“Absolutely not-” She tried to continue explaining but could not contain her laugh anymore. ”...no, no, she found him with another woman!” Emily finally explained.

“Ouch!” Finally Dean intervened. “That's not good.”

“Oh, and that's nothing.” Continued Emily. “My mother followed them for the rest of the night and found out he had a whole other family with this woman, who was, coincidentally, pregnant again. So all her work was in vain, as her marriage was destroyed.”

“So…“ Sam encouraged her to keep telling.

“So!” She snapped her fingers in front of him. “This is where John Winchester comes in. My mother was enraged, vengeful. So she went out for a drink. Or many. She met dad and my mother found out he was a hunter. They exchanged opinions and theories about a local case and kept seeing each other for a while. Apparently my mother had more experience than dad, who had just been hunting for a couple years. They liked each other, they slept together and-” Emily pointed at herself. “Nine months later I popped out of her.” She stopped suggestively gesturing in front of her face and went back to her normal voice. “When I was six months old Azazel came to turn me, and my mother let him be, as they had agreed, but when he came for Alex she had probably forgotten or thought she could fight him aaaand, that’s how I ended up here.”

“Did you really have to make it so dramatic?” Asked Dean.

9, you’re jaded

“Shut up, you loved it.” She smiled. Sam seemed pretty amused.

“What about the demon blood?” Asked Dean, curious. “I'm guessing you got your healthy dose?”

“Oh, I wish I could tell you it was just one dose. Son of bitch gave me a whole bottle. I don't think my mother ever knew something like that had happened.”

“Well, that explains a lot of things.” He sighed. “Including what he meant when he said you were in a control group.”

“I'm a demon guinea pig. Very fun experience.” She said, sarcastic.

Sam looked at her through the rearview mirror, but didn't say anything. Emily raised her eyebrows and he immediately looked away.

You alright? She asked Sam, telepathically.

Yeah- just figured out what Ruby meant when she said you could have helped

Yeah, about that, sorry I snitched

It's alright, it was probably for the best

They quickly smiled at each other and then Emily leaned back in the seat.

Can I say something else? Sam's voice reached Emily.

Of course.

In the last two years… didn't you and Dean figure out yet how to get along? Really?

We tried- did he not tell you about what happened while you were away?

He's been very secretive about it.

Emily quickly gazed at Dean. Figures.

What do you mean?

“You guys talking about me or something?” Dean's voice distracted Emily from her mental conversation with Sam.

“What makes you think that?” Asked Sam.

“Emily keeps moving her hands as if she was talking and you keep staring at me.”

Emily and Sam exchanged a quick gaze before the younger just gave out a deep sigh and confessed. “Did you not tell Sam about what happened after he died?” To those words, Dean peeled his eyes away from the street and looked back at Emily for a second. Then, his gaze went harder and he went back at staring an indefinite point in front of him.

8, the dumbest guy I dated

“Can we not talk about it?” He asked.

“Dean, we have to talk about it. It doesn't have to be now, but at one point we-”

“Who says that?” He interrupted. “Who says we have to talk about it?”

“I do!” Snapped Emily. “I don't even understand why you would hide it!”

7 talk a big name, ‘til you’re naked

“I don't exactly come out of that story looking good, you know.” He pointed at himself.

“Ah, sorry- didn't mean to destroy your reputation with your own brother!” She said, sarcastic.

“Sure, whatever you say.” He tried to dismiss her, but Emily had other plans

“Whatev-” She was about to go at him with bad words, but Sam started talking.

“Wait, Emily, wait.” He raised his hand to stop her. She rolled her eyes. “What could ever be so bad you don't want to tell me?”

Dean glared at Emily again. She sighed and leaned back in her seat. She quickly gestured at Sam that they would talk later and went back to looking out the window.

only 6 seconds and I had to fake it

But Sam deserved the truth. Emily knew she had to tell him.

Halfway to Missouri they stopped to rest and to eat. Sam and Emily went inside a supermarket to get some food while Dean drove away to get gas.

“You should try a salad for once. Who knows, maybe you’ll discover you like it.” Commented Sam, pointing to a pre-packaged salad similar to the one he was about to buy. Emily took it and read the label. “It actually doesn’t sound that bad.” She looked back at the sandwich she was still holding. She shrugged and put the sandwich back on the shelf and exchanged it for the salad. “You have a terrible influence on me.” She commented. Sam laughed.

“What should we get Dean?” He continued, skimming through the shelf.

“A whole bottle of ranch dressing? I’m sure he’d like it.”

“Let’s get him this.” He pulled out a turkey sandwich.

Dean was waiting for them outside the shop, impatient. They started eating while sitting on a bench. “What is that?” Dean pointed to Emily’s salad. “Since when do you eat rabbit food?”

“It’s good! Want some?” She offered him a fork full of vegetables with a smile. He refused with a disgusted grimace. “Your loss, dude.” She shrugged and turned to Sam: he was staring in front of him, lost in his thoughts.

“Hey, earth calling Sam!” Emily waved a hand in front of him. “Are you okay?” Sam seemed raised from his trance-like state.

“Yeah, sorry, just-” He paused a second to look at him and Emily, who gestured to him to keep talkin. “Nothing, it's all good.”

“Are you sure?”

Sam hesitated for a second before answering. “It’s just I noticed something and-”

“What is it, Sam?” Intervened Dean. From Sam’s gaze Emily knew that whatever he was about to say, they would not have liked it. “So, Emily, how come everytime you interact with Dean you feel a- like rush of adrenaline?”

“A what?” She scratched her nose, confused.

“I don’t know, at the beginning I just thought it was a coincidence, but it’s every single time you talk to each other.”

Emily glared over at Dean and exhaled. She didn't answer and kept eating.

“Guys, what-”

“Alright, Sam, I know where you’re trying to go and we are not going there.” Intervened Dean. “This is not the time to talk about what happened while you were dead, okay? Drop it.”

Emily kept staring in front of them, thinking that if she ignored them, eventually they had to stop fighting.

“Why?” Asked Sam. “What the hell must have happened to make it so hard to talk about?”

“Nothing, I- I just don't want to talk about it, okay?” Emily closed her eyes, quickly running our of patience.

“I'm your brother, there's nothing you can't talk to me about, you-”

“I know that, but I still don't want to-”

“SHUT UP!” Screamed Emily, covering her face with her hands. She combed her hair back. Both her brothers quickly closed their mouths. “This is not a decision you get to make alone!” She pointed to Dean. “There were two of us living in that mess and I say he has to know!”

“So what, so he can worry about me? About you? Come on, it's just gonna bring more problems!” He answered. Emily could feel words she was going to regret slowly taking place in the back of her brain, but she was not fast enough to stop herself.

“Is that what this is about?! You don't want Sam to know how messed up you are?” She stood up and placed her lunch on the bench.

“What did you just say?”

“I said you’re messed up!” She yelled. Dean stood up in front of her. “What are you gonna do, uh?! Are you going to punch me?” Emily looked at Dean and raised her eyebrows, challenging him. “It can't hurt more than it used to hurt when you were blacked out drunk, can it?” After looking at Emily for a second, clearly angry, Dean sighed, rolled his eyes and turned the opposite way. Emily glared at Sam, who seemed shocked. “Right, turn around. Keep running from your problems, see how they solve themselves.”

Dean sharply turned back facing Emily. “You're talking about running?” Seeing the situation was not defusing itself, Sam stood up as well.

5, you're toxic

“Don't you get started again with-” Emily tried to say, but Dean cut her short.

“You left when I needed you the most! So don't come here judging me about running from my problems!”

“I left? Really?!”

“Well, it wasn’t me who walked out of Bobby’s house on a random Tuesday morning!”

“On a random morning? What are you even talking about? I was forced to leave!”

“You didn’t even try to stay!”

“I tried for MONTHS! I was there for you even when you tried to push me away, I listened to you cry and I let you punch the shit out of me and-” He words were interrupted by a sob Emily had not seen coming. “I- I tried to understand you, okay? I tried to get behind the violence and the being drunk, but I could not be there anymore, it was- Dean it was fucking dangerous!” Emily tried to send away the tears who were about to erupt from her eyes. She sniffed.

4, can’t trust you

“And has it ever occurred to you that I needed someone too? That, for your fault, I had to deal with everything by myself?” Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t get to tell me that I didn’t try!”

“You were not a saint either, you know? Or did you forget what happened after he died?” Dean pointed at Sam.

“Do you mean when I was about to kill myself because of you or when you were about to kill yourself by selling your soul?” She asked, bitter.

“You know what I'm talking about!”

“Yeah, sure, I'm sure just talking about it would have worked just fine, right? You were going to kill yourself, for god's sake!”

“You can't point all the faults on me!” Continued Dean. “Do you ever accept any responsibility?”

“I don't accept responsibility?” Scoffed Emily. “I spent months of my life thinking of you, you and only you, if you had eaten, if you were too drunk, how to stop you from drinking- What did you want me to do, spoon-feed you?”

3, you still got mommy issues

“I didn’t need you to play mom with me, I can take care of myself!”

“And it shows!” Emily said, sarcastic. “Of course! You always have it under control, don't you? Tell, me did you have it under control while you used me like a punch bag or-”

“Stop bringing it up!”

2 years of bullshit I can't undo

Emily took a deep breath, trying to recollect herself. She knew far too well that Dean and her trying to get out of a fight was almost impossible if none of them backed out.

“Alright, you know what…“ She exhaled, calmer. “You're right. As I said, there were two of us, it's not your fault, it's…“ She glared at Sam, who was standing in the middle of the siblings. “We screwed up. We both did. But you can't pretend it didn't happen.”

1, I hate the fact you made me love you.

#be the young #supernatural fanfiction #spn ff #supernatural sister fic #spn #spn fanfic #ao3 #supernatural a03 fanfict #sister fic

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waynes-multiverse · 9 months ago

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As usual, this chapter did not disappoint either, but that was expected 😁 Let’s get into it!

One thing I absolutely adore about Firefighter AUs is that the firehouse is always a second (or even first) home and they are all a big family. And you captured that whole flair so perfectly in the way they all joke with each other. I laughed out loud several times during this chapter! ❤️‍🔥

First of, the whole “soil water” and tea discussion was so random and so amazing! Especially, Benny’s “that ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son” got me 😂

And then, as expected, poor Y/N walks in with the best intentions and it’s super awkward with everyone staring and listening in. And boy, she really does love to bake! I figured she go simple with chocolate chip cookies, considering she has a demanding job, too, ya know? But girlfriend went aaaaall out. She’s a true Girl Scout 👀👏

“Call me Dean, baby girl” – I gasped and snorted 🤣 Meg’s my favorite so far. Loved the whole teasing! Of course they’d do that lol

And I must have watched too much This Is Us because I read Gordon’s “introduce her to a brother” in full Randall nerd voice instead of creepy Gordon voice 😂

And oh my God! There is indeed MURDER! YAY! I’m legit so excited about this. I love a good murder mystery. God knows I watch too many true crime docs and cop shows 😆 Also love that John is a detective and Cas is his partner. What an odd pairing that surely leads to a lot of fun interactions 👏 Also love how you tied the murders in with canon! So clever! Now watch me guess who the murderer is for the next fifteen parts like a game of Clue 🔍🤓

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

The sheer anger I felt when that “subhuman Neanderthal” opened his trash can of a mouth… My whole body tensed!

Can we please murder him? Please, please, please! God, I hope that ape becomes the next victim of our serial killer 🔪💀 (PS: calling him an ape even feels offensive to monkeys. But as a side note, I do wanna throw feces at him 🤷‍♀️)

But then came thankfully my second favorite part of this chapter, which was some good ol’ Winchester brothers bickering and some more teasing of Dean. Again, Benny killed me with his “Clap” comment omfg 🤣🤣🤣 What the hell, Dean? Carpet burn?! Get your shit together, man 😂

Honestly, I doubt Y/N has any idea what she’s getting herself into… 🙈

Also, dating Jo? Really Dean? Don’t shit where you eat. Men… 🙄

Ooooooh omg why does it end there?! 😫 I’d love to say I can’t wait till Lieutenant Dean hits on her and finally gets her number, but now I’m scared ‘cause of that whole Jo thing. And honestly? Hitting on a woman in front of someone you used to date is a little shitty. Again, don’t shit where you eat, friends… 🙈

Gah, I can’t wait for the next chapter! This was fantastic, love! 😍🤍

Smoke Eater - Part 2

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.

Especially for Dean Winchester.

In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.

Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor.

Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.

Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.

“Jack!” he called out.

Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.

Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”

Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.

“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.

A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.

“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”

“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.

“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.

“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.

“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.

“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”

“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.

Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.

“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”

Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”

Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.

Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad. Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.

It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.

“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.

“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”

Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.

“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.

“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”

“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”

Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.

But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile.

“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.

“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”

Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.

“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”

“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.

“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”

That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.

“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.

Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”

Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”

The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.

From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.

“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”

“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”

Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.

Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.

You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).

He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.

“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”

“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”

Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”

Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.

“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.

“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.

He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.

“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”

Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.

“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.

Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.

But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.

He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.

So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”

“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.

“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.

Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.

Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.

“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.

“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.

“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”

“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.

This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”

“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.

Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time).

“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”

Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.

“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea.

Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up.

“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.”

Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.

Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable.

And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth.

But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful.

About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out.

What a fucked way to die.

Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.

It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.

John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.

They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.

“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”

John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”

“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.

“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.

“That makes four,” Cas said.

“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”

John’s brows furrowed.

“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”

He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.

Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.

Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.

Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.

“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.

Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.

“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”

Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.

“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.

He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.

“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”

You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.

“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed.

He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.

“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.

“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.

“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”

He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.

“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense.

“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.

He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.

“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.

You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.

Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.

“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”

After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”

“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.

Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.

“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.

Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.

“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.

“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”

Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.

“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”

Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”

Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.

“Not my department.”

“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.

Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.

“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”

“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”

“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.

“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”

Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.

“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.

“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”

Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.

“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.

Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”

“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.

Dean’s brows knitted together.

“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”

“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.

“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.

“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”

Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.

“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said.

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.

Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.

“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.

“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.

Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.

“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.

“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.

“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.

“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean could only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”

Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”

“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”

Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.

Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.

Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.

Dean had carpet burn.

“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”

Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”

“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”

He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head.

“Ellen’s not the only one who’s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.

“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.

Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.

“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”

Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.

“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”

He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.

That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.

So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.

Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.

“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him.

Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.

But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.

He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.

He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.

“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”

Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.

You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.

“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.

The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.

“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.

“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”

It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.

And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too…

But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.

So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.

It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.

There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.

There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.

“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”

You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.

“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”

Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.

Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”

Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.

“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.

Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!

(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.

Next Time:

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Keep Reading: PART 3

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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