#sam winchester x abused reader

[hoboal87]

Don't Speak, Part 22

Pairings: dark!Sam x Reader, dark!Dean x Claire

Characters: dark!Sam, dark!Dean, pregnant!Reader, Claire, Ellen, Bobby, Adam

Warnings: dark!Winchesters, Trauma Bonding/Stockholm Syndrome, Non-graphic descriptions of Non-Con/Rape, Violence, Manipulation, Guilt, Threats, Pregnancy

WC: 3400+

beta’d by the wonderful, lovely, @writethelifeyouwant

This is a dark!fic that includes potentially triggering content and is intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for your own media consumption, so please, read the warnings and if you feel that you may be triggered and/or offended please move along. If you have any questions about the warnings/tags please feel free to DM me.

Don’t Speak Masterlist

My Full Masterlist

Part 21

The sight of Adam nearly causes you to faint. You have hoped, prayed, that somehow he managed to escape–that he wouldn’t also fall victim to the brothers–and your heart pounds in your chest as you take in the sight of him. Old and new cuts and bruises cover every visible inch of his body, his eyes are sunken in, his skin taut, and he looks as if hasn’t slept or eaten in weeks. A ratty shirt that had once fit him properly is now held together by mere threads and covered in dried blood stains. But the worst part is the metal collar locked around his neck, connecting to his wrists and ankles. Adam’s gaze fixes on you for a moment, the ghost of a smile on his lips fading quickly when Sam tugs sharply on the shackles.

You want to run to him, apologize for ever bringing him into your complicated relationship with the Winchesters. You should’ve disobeyed John, especially now that you know that it wasn’t Adam who fathered your baby after all, and you were already pregnant when the family left in January. If you’d only waited a few weeks longer to fulfill John’s instructions, you could’ve saved yourself and Adam from all the pain that you caused by following those orders. You stop yourself from moving, especially when you realize that Sam’s eyes are narrowed in on you, as if he’s waiting to see what you’re going to do now that Adam is here. 

“Check her,” Dean orders, gesturing towards Claire, baby Amelia still in his arms. Adam doesn’t move, his eyes flickering to Sam, as if he’s asking him for permission to follow Dean’s instruction. What has Sam done to him? “Now, Milligan.” 

Sam nods, loosening his grip before producing a key, he unlocks the chains and Adam shuffles towards Claire. Dean hands the baby over to you, stepping back to Sam, who offers a hand to shake his brother’s in congratulations.

You rock the baby in your arms as Adam inspects Claire, taking in her tiny features. Though you knew it wouldn’t matter who fathered Amelia, you can’t help but think of the relief that Claire will have knowing that her husband is Amelia’s father. She’s the spitting image of Dean, plump lips and a button nose and large almond shaped eyes, irises already tinged with green. As the brothers share hushed words between them, you walk back towards Claire, shushing Amelia as she begins to stir. Adam offers a sweet smile to Claire telling her that she did well before giving strict instructions to stay on bedrest for the next week. He then turns to you, reaching out to take the baby from your arms. Your skin prickles under his touch and you lock eyes, and again you fight the urge to tell him how sorry you are. 

He gives Amelia a quick once over, the newborn wailing in his arms, and he gently shushes her before handing her back to Claire. 

“Your wife and daughter are both perfectly healthy,” Adam says meekly as he approaches Dean and Sam. 

There’s a snide smile on Sam’s face as Dean takes in Adam’s words. At first you don’t understand what Sam is finding funny; recently he’d been just as obsessed with heirs as John was. John had mentioned more times than you can remember about the brothers’ needing heirs. Legitimate male heirs. Mr. Finch’s words from months echo in your ears as though it was just repeated in the quiet room. 

Tell me you want me to put a son in you. 

“I guess that means the Manor is mine,” Sam snickers, a poor attempt at a joke that Dean clearly doesn’t find funny, and the elder brother puts his fist through the wall behind him. You back away from the brothers as a remark from Dean sets Sam seething, and he tackles Dean to the ground. Grunting and the sounds of fists hitting flesh fill the room as the brothers tumble across the floor. 

With the Winchesters occupied, you seize the opportunity–albeit a foolish one–and grab Adam’s hand. You guide him towards the passageway that you and Dean entered from earlier in the night, stopping briefly at the bed to place a kiss on Claire’s forehead and promise you’ll get her out, too. You instruct her to call for Bobby or Ellen before disappearing into the passageway. With the door closed behind you, you make for your and Sam’s room hoping that, once you get there, you and Adam can escape.

You quickly realize that it may not have been the best idea to use the secret passage, though. From your and Sam’s room, it seemed to be a straight shot, but what you failed to notice before is that there are multiple connections, and you don’t know which one leads where.

“Which one, Y/N?” Adam pants behind you.

“I don’t– I’m not sure,” you sob, cradling your stomach. This isn’t a good idea, you could end up quite literally anywhere in the Manor. “Maybe we should go back, if they don’t know we’re gone–” 

“I think it’s too late for that, Kitten,” Adam grabs your hand. “And I– I can’t go back. Think, sweetheart.” 

Each hall looks nearly identical to the other. If you’d paid closer attention before, you wouldn’t now be stuck in a labyrinth behind the walls of Winchester Manor. You fall against the wall, cursing yourself for thinking that you could get yourself and Adam out of here.

“I’m sorry, Adam,” you mumble. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t’ve– If I’d told them the truth, Dean would’ve never–”

Adam sits down beside you, wrapping his arm around you gingerly and pulling you close to him. “It’s okay, Y/N.” 

You let out a deep breath. The longer you sit here, the greater the chance that Sam or Dean would realize that you’re trying to escape and figure out how you were doing it. If Claire was able to alert Bobby to the fighting brothers, there was a good chance they wouldn’t be able to get to her just yet. 

As your eyes adjust to the barely lit corridor, you see something on the adjacent wall– an SW and DW etched into it, and you decide that hall must be the one they used to sneak into the other’s room. You struggle to stand and Adam catches on quickly, rising himself before offering you a hand to help you up. You guide him towards the walkway, excitement filling you as you reach the door to Sam’s room, knowing that you and Adam are close to freedom.

“Y’know, every time I think we’ve broken you, you somehow manage to get just enough of your fight back to do something so fucking stupid, Y/N.” A voice makes you turn and you see a pistol pointing at you and Adam. Your heart stops. Sam’s sporting what looks to be the beginning of a black eye and has a slight limp as he takes a few steps towards the two of you. “I thought we were past all this, Princess.”

“It was me,” Adam steps in front of you, “I made her do it.”

“Is this true, Y/N?” Sam asks, eyeing you sternly while fixing the pistol solely on Adam. You’re torn, afraid that Sam might kill Adam if you go along with the lie, but even more afraid of what Sam will do to you both if you tell the truth. 

Adam turns his head slightly so that you can meet his eyes, and he gives an almost imperceptible nod, encouraging you to play along.

“Yes,” you mumble, and as soon as the word leaves your mouth, Sam closes the distance between him and Adam and hits him too many times to count with the butt of the pistol until the doctor’s body falls to the floor with a thunk. Angry red marks cover Adam’s face and a stream of blood flows from his mouth and nose. Sam uses his shirt to wipe down the pistol, staining it red, before stomping on Adam’s hand and then his stomach. He turns away, smirking as he disappears out of the room.

Adam’s face is swelling within seconds, and you drop to your knees, hoping and praying that Sam hasn’t killed him. You place your hand under his nose, breathing out a sigh of relief when you feel a faint breath against your fingers. 

“He attacked Y/N, Bobby, I had to stop him,” Sam’s voice carries from the hall. 

When you look up, you see Sam and Bobby entering the room from the main doorway. You can’t remember the last time you’d seen him or Ellen. 

“We need to get him back downstairs,” Sam urges, sounding rattled. 

“Are you sure that’s what happened here, Sam? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, it looks like you beat the tar out of him for no reason,” Bobby retorts.

“He’s been obsessed with Y/N for months. He’s the one who attacked her and Claire last year! If Dean hadn’t found them…” You’re not sure why Sam’s ability for lying comes as a shock to you. “Y/N, sweetheart, he can’t hurt you,” Sam reaches out for you, and helps you up, wrapping his arm possessively around your shoulders. 

“Why do you think I’ve been keeping her close? I couldn’t risk something else happening to her. He’s delusional, Bobby. You want to know what he told Dean?” Sam doesn’t wait for a response, plowing on in his tirade. “He said that he was our brother– that he deserved everything we had. That if we didn’t allow him to continue caring for Y/N and Claire, that he would make sure everyone in town knew about Joanna. I love Joanna like a sister; we couldn’t let her reputation be tarnished because dad wouldn’t allow Dean to marry her. You know no matter how much he discouraged it, they were sweethearts. Dean only sent her away because he thought it was what dad wanted, but dad included her in his will, Bobby. He knew that it was Dean’s child. And she and Henry should be here with us. Tell Ellen to bring her here.”

Sam is speaking so quickly and erratically that you can barely keep up. You haven’t seen Joanna since John’s funeral, and all you were told when you asked about her absence previously was that she was ill. You’d caught her and Dean in compromising positions more than once. Is that why she’s been gone? To have her baby in secret so that no one would know that she was unmarried and pregnant? To save herself and Ellen the embarrassment of having an illegitimate child? You watch as Bobby takes in everything Sam has said. 

“I might not be an educated man, Sam, but I ain’t stupid.” Bobby narrows his eyes. “I’ve known you your whole life–I practically raised you–and you think I don’t know when you’re lyin’? Your daddy paid Adam to watch over the girls and help ensure safe deliveries. And you’ve been keeping him locked up for months. You think Ellen and me can’t see the bruises, that we don’t hear the screams? You think that little of us, boy? You think that you can use us to keep covering up your and Dean’s messes?”

“I think,” –Sam steps forward, the facade of a man scared for the life of his wife and child dropped now, his voice lowering dangerously– “if you don’t do as you’re told…” He leans forward and you can no longer make out his words. Bobby’s face drains of color, his eyes wide, and his whole body goes stiff as Sam pulls away. “Have I made myself clear, Robert?” Bobby nods his head. You’d never seen Sam interact this way with Bobby, and whatever he said clearly has Bobby afraid for his life. 

“But you are right about one thing; Y/N and Claire, they’ll need someone to look after them while Dean and I take our next case. Take him to the servants quarters and tend to his injuries. Once he’s healed, he is only allowed to see Y/N under your or Ellen’s supervision. Is that understood? And I wasn’t just carrying on about Joanna. Dean and I will expect her and Henry moved in by the time we return. Now, get him out of here and send someone to clean up this mess.”

Bobby only nods, moving towards Adam and picking him up off the floor. A pained groan leaves Adam, and for a brief moment his eyelids flutter. Sam locks the door behind them as Bobby exits, and you’re not sure what to expect from him next. He stalks towards you, tearing off his shirt. You make a decision that you’re sure you’ll regret, and try to grab the pistol, but Sam beats you to it.

“I know it wasn’t Adam’s idea to escape,” he growls, grabbing your arm roughly. “But the fact that you let him take the fall for it–that was surprising. How do you keep managing to surprise me, Y/N?” Sam’s hand snakes up your back before grabbing your loose hair and yanking your head back. “And going for this?” he waves the pistol in front of your face, “was even more unexpected. Maybe I need to teach you another lesson,” he grunts with a pull of your hair, causing you to whimper.

“Please, Sam, I promise I’ll be good.” 

Sam moves you both towards the bed, and when the backs of your knees hit the mattress, you fall backward. He lifts your nightdress over your belly and exposes your breasts, the gun tracing your silhouette, and for a moment you’re afraid he might try to fuck you with it, but instead he sets it down after a moment, just out of your reach, and pins your hands above your head. He enters you roughly, giving you no time to adjust, and sets a fast and brutal pace. Your focus falls to the window as you wait for him to finish.

August

Claire is given a clean bill of health by Dorothy a few days later, and with that the brothers are gone. A weight is lifted off your shoulders, and you feel like you can finally breathe for the first time in months. Under Sam’s orders, Joanna is back in the Manor within a week and is assigned to be the children’s wetnurse and nanny. You, Claire and Joanna are all moved into the rooms closest to the nursery which now houses both Amelia and Henry.  A third bassinet sits empty waiting for your baby to fill it. 

Several new servants were brought in by Dean before they’d left nearly a month prior and according to him they were there to protect you, Claire, Joanna, and the children. You aren’t sure who Dean thinks you need protecting from, especially when he and Sam were the only people in the Manor who had ever hurt you, but you have to admit knowing that Dean is concerned about the well-being of all of you is heartening. 

Benny, the guard assigned to you, is nice enough, and for the most part gives you a wide berth. He’s larger than Dean but not as tall as Sam, and you can see why Dean had hired him. He accompanies you on your daily walks through the grounds and escorts you everywhere else in the Manor. Though you insist that it isn’t necessary, he maintains that he was given explicit instructions to stay by your side. 

For the weeks following you fall into a routine; morning walks with Benny, afternoons spent with Claire as she heals and the babies, and evenings exploring the Manor, you’d been there for so long, but hadn’t truly been out of the East Wing. Each week, Bobby receives a letter from Dean and the time frame of their absence is extended another week. Once one case is finished, the brothers would start working another one, and a part of you wonders if they ever truly plan to return back to Kansas. 

True to Sam’s word, the one and only time you’ve seen Adam since the brothers’ departure is under Bobby’s watchful eye. There was so much you wanted to say to him: apologize for getting him involved, not only once, but twice. If you hadn’t made a stupid and feeble attempt at an escape, and hadn’t let him take the blame, you’d both be better off. He hardly says anything to you, speaking mostly in two or three word sentences, before declaring you to be in good health. You attempt to follow Bobby and Adam when they exit, but to your dismay, Benny stops you, instead taking you in the opposite direction. 

There’s a knowing look on Ellen’s face when she enters your room the next day, ordering Benny to help himself to lunch, while you and she tend to “wifely” things. Once Benny has disappeared, she asks you to follow her, guiding you to a secret door that you’ve never noticed before, and you curse yourself for not realizing sooner that the Manor had to be filled with multiple passageways, linking more than just bedrooms. 

Ellen briefly tells you how to recognize which passage leads where and how you can use the secret corridors to go between the different wings of the house, pointing to one in particular that, according to her, might be of interest to you, and another hall that, if you were so inclined, would lead you outdoors. You don’t miss the implication of the information that she’s given you, but you know you can’t leave. Sam and Dean still need you. After your last night together–before they’d gone away–you were woken up to loving touches and sweet words from your husband that reminded you why you’d ever fallen for him in the first place. Beneath the brutality and the bouts of mania, there is a kind and sweet Sam that you cherish. If you could give Sam and Dean the son they both so desperately want, maybe things could change.

You know you need to cast Adam out of your thoughts. You can’t be a loyal wife to Sam and Dean if you also have feelings for Adam– you need closure. You could tell him how the passages work, and maybe he could escape. With the brothers extending their trip so much, he could be far away by the time they return. It was the least you could do for him. 

You consider for days when might would be best to try to find Adam and help him escape. You’re sure Ellen was giving you a clue as to where he was being kept, but you won’t dare ask her for more clarification. According to Dean’s most recent letter, the brothers aren’t expected to return for at least another week. The sooner you helped Adam leave, the more time he could have getting out of Kansas City, the state, or even the country if he so desired. You doubt the brothers thought him important enough to chase all over the world; he’d fulfilled his deal with John, there was no reason for him to stay to just deliver your baby. 

As the week comes to a close, you know you have to make a decision, and soon. After dinner is served that night, you and Claire spend the rest of the evening in the nursery, chatting and playing with the babies, before Ellen orders you both out so that she and Joanna can put them to bed, leaving one oil lamp burning as a nightlight for the children, as one of the new guards takes his place outside the nursery door.

Benny escorts you the short distance to your room, offering you a “goodnight, cher” as you close the door behind you. You’re confident that Benny won’t disturb you for the rest of the night, so you make the decision that tonight is the night to free Adam. You grab your own oil lamp from the beside, quickly filling it with the reserve kept in your room to ensure you had enough light to see Adam outside. 

You creep through the hidden door in your room and make your way down the hall Ellen had said would be “of interest”, hoping that you didn’t misunderstand her tone, and you wouldn’t be walking into something much worse than finding Adam. You’re not sure how long you follow the grimey and dim corridor, you hoped that you could maybe get an idea of where exactly you were in the Manor, but with multiple ones branching off you realize you could be anywhere.

Part 23

Feedback is fuel! Please tell me what you think!

[wild-lavender-rose]

hii! so i had this idea in my mind for a while, but i don't think i'm capable of writing it, so if you could take a look at it, it would be awesome.

so basically, what if one day Sam and Dean come across a young, teenage girl on a hunt. she's without a family, perhaps she has no idea where she is/is far from home. she gets attacked by a demon or monster, the boys find her, bring her to their motel. she helps them kill the monster by telling them all about the attack, but she gets fascinated by their job, all the lore and creatures. they kinda grow fond of her, so they let her come with them "to the next town", but she says for good. she's around 16, and helps the boys with research and hunts, learns very quickly, and kinda becomes a little sister to them.

would you be okay with writing that?

Hey, love! You requested this so long ago and life was just too crazy at the time for me to write this. I decided to do a detailed list-type fic for this since you had so many details I wanted to expand on. I hope you enjoy :)

Becoming the Winchesters' adoptive little sister would include...

It had started as nothing more than a hitch hiking trip to California, a desperate attempt to get away from your abusive family.

The last thing you expected was to get kidnapped by a pack of vampires and taken to a small town in the middle of nowhere.

Your quick thinking and smooth talking buys you time, but your fate as one of the living dead seems to be sealed as they surround you and go in for the kill.

You're bruised and bloody by the time the brothers show up just in time to be saved from being bitten. You watch them kill the vampires before passing out.

When you wake up you're in a seedy motel, however you aren't frightened by the brothers who introduce themselves as Sam and Dean.

They take care of your wounds and get you a decent meal while you tell them everything you know about the vampires.

Sam and Dean tell you who they are, even allowing you to see some of Sam's prior research into the vampire coven. You're instantly fascinated.

You try use your smooth talking skills to get them to take you along to their next hunt, but Dean sees right through it.

"Don't try to con a con man, kid."

"I'm not a kid." You snapped, rolling your eyes.

You were finally reduced down to begging for them to take you, accidentally letting it slip that you were running from your abusive family.

Little did you know, Sam had seen the old marks and bruises on your arms and legs when he took care of your wounds when you were unconscious. He wants to keep you safe, and as much as he dislikes the idea of you getting hurt by their lifestyle, he has an almost instinctual desire to look out for you.

"Just to the next town, Dean." Sam pleaded, giving Dean his puppy dog eyes.

And so began your life with the Winchesters.

You helped Sam with his research and learned how to fight from Dean.

He would be so proud of you when you executed a move that he taught you on one of the monsters you were fighting.

"That's my girl." He'd praise, giving you a big hug afterwards when the danger had passed.

The boys didn't like it when you would flirt with boys your age, often intervening to "break it up".

You would be quick to do the same, especially with Dean.

They always had your back and were always by your side, loving you more fiercely than you had ever felt before.

From then on it was always you, Sam, and Dean against the world.

I don't do tag lists anymore. Follow and turn on notifs to see more.

[samsno1]

Dream Of Me

Sam Winchester x F!Reader

i was going to do this fic much, much longer, it would have a whole plot and all but i am so exhausted i wasn't feeling it so have this short horny ass one-shot because i was ovulating while writing this lol

Summary: You quite literally got into Sam's head...

Warnings: SMUTish, m. masturbation, use of y/n, descriptions of nudity, *almost* cunnilingus (read it so you will understand lmao), kissing, nipple sucking, marking (?), english is not my first language

You can learn how to change "Y/N" for your actual name here

Read it on AO3

Read Part Two

WC: 2.3k

enjoy!

Sam kissed you deeply, his lips dragging against yours eagerly. His big hands grabbed at your hips, blunt nails digging into your skin through your clothes. His tongue sinfully entered your mouth, exploring the warmth and groaning at your taste.

Your hands wrapped themselves behind his neck, fingers brushing through his long locks, lightly tugging at each lap of his tongue through your lips. He slowly walked you back, your knees hitting the edge of the mattress and Sam gently held your upper back to place you softly over the covers, mouths never leaving each other. His long hair tickled your cheeks, his nose bumped into yours. His desire was almost palpable as his kisses became more and more desperate, his hands clawing at your back as one of his knees supported his weight between your thighs. His long torso angled itself in an arch to keep his assault on your mouth.

When he finally pulls away, a whine escapes your throat, your raw lips begging for more as your eyes watch his flushed face. He panted above you as he straightened up, his arms crossing to grab at the hem of his shirt and pull it off, the collar of the clothing lifting his hair and then making it bounce back in place perfectly, a stupid grin on his face – a sinful, I know you like what you see grin – as he catches your beautiful eyes analyzing every bit of exposed skin.

He places both his hands on each side of your head, his hair framing his face, a little curtain to hide the absolutely hungry look on his eyes.

“Like what you see, pretty girl?” He questions and you nod in affirmation. He dips down again to attack your neck with open mouthed kisses and bites, making you whine and mewl on his ears and your hands reach for his back, your nails digging into the flesh. His hands drag down your front, bumping against your hard nipples and going low enough so that he can drag your shirt up, his obnoxiously long fingers brushing against your hot skin and throwing even more wood in the fire that was in your belly.

He pulls away momentarily and you lift your arms above your head so that he can take the shirt off for you, the clothing blocking the stunning view of an aroused Sam Winchester for a few seconds as it goes through your head. When he finally throws the shirt away on the ground he practically pouts when he sees the bra covering your breasts and sensually – slowly – trails his hands to your back, leaving yet another mind blowing kiss on your lips, humming, fucking humming in delight, just for being able to do this to you.

He unclasps the undergarment, and you feel him smile against your lips as if he was saying finally I can really see you. As he takes yet another article of clothing off of you he really eyes you down – I mean really. He registers every curve, every scar and every single particle of your skin, his lust-blown eyes eating you alive right then and there, your chest going up and down with deep breaths, your abused mouth half open, your hands splayed beside your head – everything.

He takes a single hand to caress over your skin, starting low at your neck and slowly coming down at the valley of your breasts, down your belly until he’s below your belly button then his other hand joins the action, one on each side of you, dragging up your waist and feeling around your ribs until they finally grab at each boob, squeezing. You groan and grab at both his wrists to keep him there, the little stimulation you got better than anything. He hums above you, his head dipping down to leave feather-light kisses over your collarbones.

“So pretty” He murmurs against your skin “So, so beautiful for me Y/N”

You sigh as he massages your breasts, his mouth dragging down to one of your nipples, wrapping around it and hollowing his cheeks, sucking on your skin and circling his tongue around your tit. You arch your back, a low moan rippling through your throat as you roll your hips, trying to find any kind of friction for the ache between your thighs.

“Sam…” You plead, grabbing at his hair to tug. He groans at your action, biting lightly on your nipple and you shriek. He lifts his head up, chuckling lowly, evil even, a smug smirk on his face, his dimples making him look even prettier above you. He lets your breasts go and smashes his mouth to yours again, swallowing your complaints.

His hands hold you at your belt loop and he bumps his crotch against yours and oh my god. You let out a cry, breaking the connection, and hide your head in his shoulder, your mouth kissing below his ear lobe as you whisper to him:

“Please, please, please, do something, Sam” You beg and he hushes you, one of his hands going towards your lower back to hug your naked tummy against his defined body. He squeezes your skin, wanting to mold into you and turn you inside out.

“Shh, beautiful, I’m gonna take care of you” He says, kissing your neck and unbuttoning your tight jeans with one hand. Excitement runs through his veins, his mouth still marking your skin.

His hand finally manages to unzip your pants and he flattens his palm against your lower belly to drag his fingers below the waistband of your panties. He swipes one teasing middle finger between your folds making you buck against his hand and let out a cry of desperation. He brings his finger out, making you groan in complaint until he lifts his head up, grabs your chin and makes you stare at him in the eyes.

When he’s sure you’re looking, he inserts his slick soaked finger into his mouth and sucks on it, pleasurable noises coming out of his throat as he savors your taste on his tongue, his eyes closing in bliss. The sight is beyond unholy, the action making your cunt clench into nothing, your glossy eyes couldn’t look away and Sam was taking advantage of that. Nothing you’ve ever experienced with anyone before made you feel so needy for someone's mouth between your thighs, eating you out with all their want, need, for you, nose deep into your pussy. Sam did that.

He takes his finger out of his mouth with a pop, licking his lips with his tongue and he opens his eyes to look at you and you are, for sure, looking at him, completely hypnotized by his spell. He grins and dips his head close to your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps all over your body.

“I’m going to eat you out until you’re begging me to stop, until you’re physically unable to take anything anymore” He whispers and bites at your earlobe and jesus fucking christ where did this man get this mouth. You let out a shaky breath at his words, the fantasy making you squeeze your legs together.

“Please, please, please” You beg as Sam starts kissing down your body, open mouthed kisses left and right. His mouth bit and sucked at points he learned made you tingly inside and your hips roll below him. When he gets to the waistband of your pants he hooks two fingers of each hand through it to drag both your underwear and your jeans down your legs. It felt cold for about three seconds until the sight of Sam looking up at your face through his long lashes, eyes filled with lust, burned you from the inside out.

Once you were completely bare under him he left kisses in each of your inner thighs, his calloused hands kneading on the skin. You look down again, his hair brushes your legs, his mouth so close, so, so close that you could feel his breath against your soaked cunt. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you and you felt like the last woman on earth, wondering how this man could be so perfect, inside and outside. He finally starts to approach your folds, his mouth slowly opening to wrap around your clit and…and…

“Sammy wake up!” Sam’s shaken awake by a hand on his arm and takes a deep breath in. He rubs his eyes, trying to adjust to the light that got turned on by whoever disturbed his sleep – his very good and desirable sleep. His blurred vision starts to focus on the figure besides his bed. Dean towers over Sam in his robe, an unfazed look on his face and a cup of coffee in his hand that isn’t holding his arm.

“Dean?” He questions, voice hoarse from sleep, as he sits up on the bed, the covers falling from his chest to pool around his hips, still hiding his legs below it. Dean drops his hand from his upper arm “What time is it?”

“About 10AM” He says “We might’ve found a case, we need your help with research” He affirmed and Sam nodded. Oh my god. You. How was he going to face you? How was he going to be able to concentrate on your explanation of the case to him when he just fantasized about his mouth between your legs eating you – scratch that – almost eating you out? I’m screwed. “Clean up and meet me and Y/N at the library” Dean says finally, snapping him out of his thoughts and giving him a slap on his back, to which Sam groaned in annoyance. He leaves the room soon after, closing the door behind him.

He lets out a shaky breath, his hands supporting his upper body against the mattress. Just now did he notice the blood pulsing between his legs and the way he seemed hotter than usual. He rubbed both hands over his face, get it together, God damn it. He threw his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, making a beeline to the bathroom. He needed a cold shower, an ice bath, drown in the lakes of Alaska, anything to cool his body and his thoughts.

Every time he blinked there you were, his disheveled hair and lust blown pupils looking up at you. It had been some time since he started developing a crush on the huntress, your kind and caring – but at the same time firm and assertive – personality got him hooked pretty quick and your smartness always impressed him. Dean often made fun of you for being sort of a nerd – in his words – but that just made you even more desirable for him. And, of course, you looked incredible. Your killer body and beautiful features made you look amazing even when you were covered in monster guts.

Peeling off his clothes and turning the water to the coldest setting definitely helped. But, his boner was still there. He cursed to himself and hesitantly wrapped a hand around his cock, eyes closing and teeth digging into his lips to hold back any noise. He started rubbing slowly, up and down, visions of you on his head, beneath him, hair messed up by his hands and skin marked by his mouth and teeth. He wondered how your pussy would taste on his tongue, which noises you would make when he finally brought you over that edge just with his mouth. Then with his fingers. Then…

He quickened his movements, his chest going up and down quickly with deep breaths. Sam should feel bad for touching himself to the thought of you, he should feel bad for dreaming of you that way but he just couldn’t. The images of you flashing into his mind were making him feel thoroughly euphoric, his heartbeat could be felt in his ears and he couldn’t stop himself from imagining your cries of pleasure as he pumped into you or the different positions he could put you in. Fucking you against the shower wall or over the map table.

His drenched hair fell besides his face, the cold water running down his head and back as he slightly hunched over. One of his hands supported his weight against the wall while the other grasped tightly at his shaft. He thought about you moaning his name, much like you did in the dream, and how it sounded so sweet yet so arousing. 

His breathing was shallow, his hands were shaking and with a sigh of your name he finally came. He was in bliss, the orgasm hitting him like a truck. He pressed his forearm against the wall in a horizontal position and rested his head over it, his softening dick still in his hand. He opened his eyes, the sound of the water falling to the ground finally being processed by his brain again.

Jesus Christ.

The guilt suddenly hit him and he shook his head, partially in disbelief at what his body and mind made him feel. And do. Even if his body calmed down, his brain still had that dream practically memorized. He sighed, cleaning himself up all over again, the mess he made going down the drain, hiding the evidence. He got out of the shower, toweling his hair and drying his face.

He stood in front of the mirror and looked at his reflection. His cheeks were still flushed but, besides that, nothing could give anything away. He breathed out a chuckle.

“God damn it” He whispered to himself as he proceeded to dry the rest of his body with a different towel than the one he used in his hair, then wrapping that towel around his hips and going back to his room to change into different clothes. Today was going to be a long day.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading, Xoxo

Read Part Two

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Triggers

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: Sam does something that reminds you of your abusive stepfather, and your response scares both of your brothers.

Sam and Dean didn’t know much about your life before them, and you wanted to keep it that way.

You were John’s daughter, but Mary wasn’t your mother. John didn’t find out about you until your mother died, at which time he took you in. But there was something about your life that even he didn’t know.

You had a stepfather.

You hadn’t told John, because even when you first met him, you had sensed something. You had sensed that if he knew that you had any option other than him, he would be gone in an instant. You found out why soon after; his life was a very dangerous one.

But you had told him that you had no one else, so he’d taken you in. And you didn’t regret it. You’d take monsters with two big brothers and your real father over a “safe” nice home and your stepfather any day.

He’d abused you both emotionally and verbally as soon as he’d married your mother, and you were almost certain that it would’ve turned physical if he hadn’t known that your mother would leave him over that. As soon as your mother died, you knew you weren’t safe in that house anymore; your stepfather could do whatever he wanted to you.

So here you were, with the Winchesters, and it couldn’t be better. They were your real family, more than your stepfather and even your mother had ever been. As much as you’d loved your mother, she’d stood by and watched while your stepfather said whatever he wanted to you, even when he threatened you and terrified you to the point where you had nightmares about him going through with his threats. You could never go back to that kind of life.

Even if it meant this, what was happening now. You were wandering around a maze of boxes and crates in the middle of a warehouse, trying to find your brothers. You’d recklessly ran down a corridor to chase down a vampire, but once it was dead you realized you’d gotten yourself lost. It would’ve been fine, if not for a couple of key factors. 1: Your phone was dead, and 2: there wasn’t just one vamp in the warehouse, it was a nest.

You just hoped that Sam and Dean found you before the nest did.

“What do we have here?” You cringed at the unfamiliar voice. Of course you couldn’t be so lucky.

“I’d say it looks like dinner,” another vampire said from behind you.

“You don’t want to do this,” you warned as your fingers tightened around your machete.

“You have no idea how much I do,” he grinned at you.

You backed away from the two monsters until your back hit a stack of crates and your movement was stopped. You were semi-confident in your ability to take them both out, until you saw movement behind some boxes to your left, and three more joined the group. One of the first two had snuck up behind you while your attention was on the other vamps, and you didn’t notice him until his hand shot out, gripping your arm and twisting it until your machete clanked to the ground.

“See,” the first one spoke as he advanced on you. “Doesn’t matter that you’re a hunter.” The man moved, and before you could blink he had your arms pinned to your side, his fangs dangerously close to your neck. You felt your whole body shiver when you felt his next words as a breath against your throat. “You’re gonna die like every other brat we bleed dry.”

“You think so?”

The sound of that familiar voice almost made your knees go weak in relief. The pressure on your wrists disappeared as the vampire turned to charge at Dean, who deftly took his head off in one swing.

Sam was right beside him, taking out a couple of other vampires. Before long, all five lay dead on the ground, and you leaned heavily against the crate behind you, your legs feeling too shaky to hold you up.

“Are you ok?” Sam’s voice didn’t quite reach through your fogged mind, until he stepped forwards and grabbed your shoulders, shaking you until you looked at him. “Are you ok?”

“I-I’m…” you nodded feebly, and Sam’s demeanor changed.

“What were you thinking?” His sudden raise in volume made you flinch, your whole body tensing.

“I’m sor-sorry, I-“

“You could’ve been killed! Where were you? How could you be so-“

“Sam!”

You didn’t even hear when Dean interrupted Sam, pulling him away from you. You couldn’t hear anything except the ringing in your ears, and the voice that was so clearly not either of your brothers.

“What were you thinking?”

“How could you be so stupid?”

“If you pull anything like that again, I’ll kill you!”

“You’re lucky your mother is here, or I’d beat you until you couldn’t stand!”

All the different times, all the different threats just merged together, playing over and over in your head. You couldn’t hear anything but that voice, couldn’t see anything but that face.

You didn’t even feel it when your legs gave out and you sank to the floor. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, hands coming up to cover your ears as you rocked back and forth, back and forth.

“No…” you whimpered. “Stop, please stop.”

Meanwhile, Sam and Dean didn’t know what to say.

“Sam, what did you…”

“I-I didn’t…I don’t…” Sam couldn’t take his eyes off you as you shuddered and began to sob. “Hey, hey,” Sam spoke softly as he knelt next to you on the ground. “Sweetheart, look at me, it’s Sammy.”

Sam froze when you flinched away from his touch, but he didn’t back down.

“Hey, c’mon.” Sam took hold of your hands, gently prying them away from your ears.

“No!” You sobbed. “Don’t, don’t!”

“Commere,” Sam sighed as he pulled you into his arms, his chin resting on your head as he rocked you back and forth. “Come on sweetheart, come back to me.”

“S-Sam?” Sam breathed a sigh of relief when you opened your eyes and spoke to him.

“Hey, hey it’s me, it’s ok.”

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed as you fisted his shirt, clinging to him.

“No, hey, don’t apologize. I-I shouldn’t have yelled, I’m sorry.”

“Baby,” Dean spoke softly as he leaned down to look at you. “What was that?”

Sam felt you shift as you turned your head against his chest, unwilling to look at Dean.

“No,” you whimpered.

“What?” Dean reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s ok, you can talk to me.”

“No!” Sam’s heart ached at the sound of your sobbing as you burrowed closer to him.

“Ok, ok,” Dean said as he backed away. “I…I’m gonna go start the car,” Dean looked at Sam. “Just��bring her out when she’s ready.” Dean left, knowing he couldn’t help. This was something Sam had to fix.

“You have to talk to me,” Sam pleaded. “Kid, you’re scaring me.”

“Y-you have to promise me.” Sam felt you pull away from him, and he looked down into your eyes. “You can’t tell Dad or Dean. And-and you can’t make me go back.” Sam stiffened when you started to cry again. “I-I can’t go back.”

“Shh, shh,” Sam pulled you close again as he whispered. “Ok, ok I promise honey. What’s got you so scared?”

“You-you just…you reminded me of-of someone, and I got-I got scared.”

“Who?” Sam pulled away again to look at you. “Who did I remind you of? Did this person hurt you?”

“M-my…” Sam swallowed as you took a deep breath before speaking. “My stepfather.”

“You don’t have a…” Sam’s voice trailed off at the look on your face. “You have a stepfather? But I thought-“

“I didn’t want dad to know, because I-I had to get away.”

“You chose monsters over this guy?” Your silence was all the answer Sam needed. “And…and I reminded you…” Sam swallowed. “Honey, you-you know I wasn’t trying to scare you, right? I just…” Sam shook his head. “Sweetie you scared us so bad. I thought those vamps had…”

“No,” you insisted. “I-I know you didn’t mean it, I just-just got scared. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sam said as he shifted. “Are you ready to go?”

“Y-you won’t tell anyone, will you?” You looked up at Sam as the two of you stood, and his stomach twisted at the fear in your eyes.

“Commere,” he sighed, pulling you close. “You’re family, kid. We would never send you back to him, never. But I’ll keep it a secret, if that’s what you want.”

“Yes.”

“Ok, I promise,” Sam said as he pulled away. “Now c’mon.”

Sam kept his arm around your shoulders as he led you out towards the car.

“I’m sorry,” Sam spoke again just before you reached the Impala. “I never wanted to scare you.”

“It’s ok,” you leaned closer to your big brother as you spoke. “I-I know you’re not like him.”

“If you ever want to tell us about him…we’re here, kid. You can trust us, always.”

“Hey,” Dean interrupted, sticking his head out the window of the Impala. “Are we all good?”

“Yeah,” you grinned. “We’re all good.”

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: John is being an abusive jerk as always, but can you set this in season 1 idk make up your own scenario but I imagine them being season 1.

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Abuse? Asthma Attack kinda?

A/N: Okay I think I actually hate what I did for this UGH. Please lmk if you guys like it. I also have asthma so I added that little part in there it just came to me when I was writing so I was like okay let’s make it even more angsty.

A hunt had gone wrong and your dad was currently driving you and your siblings to where you had left Dean’s car before the hunt. The tension in the car was thick and it felt as though you couldn’t breathe. You had your long sleeves pulled out and had your hands tucked inside of them as you bundled the ends of them. You had them tucked under your chin as you rested your head on them— something you’ve always done to comfort yourself. Your leg was bouncing rapidly— something you’ve always done when you’re anxious and you’re trying to self soothe.

“Would you fucking knock it off? You’re shaking the whole damn car.” John grumbled angrily. You immediately jumped at his harsh voice piercing through the quiet car and quickly stopped bouncing your leg.

“Yes sir, I’m sorry.” You said quietly. Dean sent you a sympathetic glance through the rear view mirror knowing that’s how you comforted yourself. His first instinct was to protect you and stick up for you, but your pleading eyes shut him up. You bawled up the ends of your sleeves even tighter and subconsciously started wiggling your toes. Your anxiety was on high alert around your father and you hated that the most. You felt safe with your brothers, but when your dad was around you felt as though you could suffocate. Your thoughts of worry were interrupted when you felt a hand on your knee. You looked up and Sam sent you a sad smile. You knew that your dad was going to blow up any second about the hunt gone wrong and the future of that was terrifying you. You couldn’t handle more yelling and the dreadful feeling of your family falling apart in the aftermath. When you turned down the random dirt road you almost sighed out loud in relief. Dean’s car in your view made you feel calm. As soon as your dad stopped the car, you practically leaped out. It was like the weight lifted off of your chest and you could finally take a deep breath. Sam followed behind you and put his arm around your shoulder and you instantly felt better. Your brothers knew you better than you knew yourself.

“We’ll meet you at the motel.” You heard Dean say before you heard the car door shut. You got into the impala and as soon as all the doors shut, you spoke up.

“Dad’s mad.” You stated, quietly. Dean snorted and you snapped your head in his direction.

“What’s new.” He shrugged before turning to face you.

“Don’t let him get to you kiddo.” He said softly. He was concerned for you. He knew that their dad spiked your anxiety and he wanted to make sure you were okay. Your dad was always especially hard on you. Since Dean always had your back, it often led to even more problems and you didn’t want him to have to deal with that.

“Well- I just-“ You started, unsure of how you wanted to word it.

“I just hope he’s not going to blow up. I- I don’t know if I can handle that right now.” You finished weakly, knowing anything could set your father off.

“Everything’s going to be okay, bug. I will take you somewhere else no problem if you don’t feel comfortable going back to the motel. Just say the words.” Sam stated strongly, wanting nothing more than to protect you from your father’s wrath.

“Yeah kid. You can go with Sammy and I’ll go back to the motel and deal with dad.” Dean said, glancing back at you through the mirror.

“No, no it’s okay I didn’t mean to cause a problem. I’ll be fine, I promise.” You said, not sure if you’d be able to keep that promise, but you’d never let Dean deal with dad alone.

“We’ve got your back kid, always.” Dean reassured and just then you noticed you were bouncing your leg up and down. Your breath hitched and you immediately stopped.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize I was bouncing my leg. I’m sorry!” You said, panicking. The last thing you wanted to do was annoy your brothers. Before you had another second to even think, Sam spoke.

“Sweetheart, don’t apologize for that. Sometimes we just need to move a little when we’re anxious and it’s totally normal. It doesn’t bother us in the slightest okay?” Sam asked. His heart hurt at the thought that you were now hyper aware of your anxiety tic because your dad had yelled at you and called you annoying for it. It’s something you’ve always done and your brothers are fully aware of it. When they see your leg bouncing, they know there’s something bothering you and it helps them know where you’re at mentally.

“Oh okay. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t annoying you too.” You said quietly, now feeling embarrassed.

“We’re here for you bug alright? You know you can always be comfortable around us.” Sam said softly.

“Yeah I know.” You sighed. Your brothers hated how you became panicky and scared whenever your father was around. When it was just the three of you without your dad, you were a completely different kid. As the motel came into view you let out a loud gasp.

“What’s wrong?!” Dean asked panicked at your fearful outburst.

“I couldn’t find my inhaler before we left and dad was mad that I was taking so long so he left the room to go help load up the car with you two so I was rushing around and I ripped all my clothes out of my bag and I left the room a little bit of a mess and it’s going to set him off. He’s going to get so mad and he’s going to yell at me.” You explained as fast as you could, hoping you’d have enough time before your dad got back to clean up.

“Okay we’re a few minutes ahead of him so it’s okay. Just go inside and shove everything into your bag real quick. It’s alright.” Dean reassured you as he whipped into the parking lot. You didn’t even wait for him to fully put the car in park before you were running to the room. A few drawers were open and your bag was torn apart all over the floor. You were just starting to shove things into your bag when the door burst open. You looked up in panic and saw your dad. You turned back towards your clothes and tried to throw more into your bag before you set your dad off.

“What the hell is this fucking disaster?” Your dad barked, charging at your bag that was in the center of the room and kicking it at you. Before you had time to answer, Sam and Dean walked into the room. They immediately noticed your terrified expression, but you knew if you acknowledged them before your dad then you would get into even more trouble.

“I-I-I couldn’t f-find m-my inhaler. I-I’m sorry.” You said, scared. Dean started making his way toward the both of you, seeing the anger in his dad’s eyes and the terror in yours.

“I-I-I don’t give a shit! Clean this mess up!” He yelled, making fun of your nervous stutter. The only reason for even having one was because of him. You only ever had one around him. You were cowered on the floor with your dad getting closer to you. Dean immediately placed himself in front of you and put his hand on his Dad’s chest.

“Back up.” He said, firmly.

“No Dean, this is bullshit!” Your dad yelled back at him. Dean looked towards you and your eyes immediately shot to the ground.

“You need to frigging chill the hell out right now.” Dean warned. Your heart was pounding and you knew that it was only going to get worse. You scrambled to put your clothes back in your bag as tears stung your eyes, but you couldn’t let them fall. Crying would be a sign of weakness in your father’s eyes and another reason for him to berate you. You heard a pair of footsteps walking towards you and you looked up to see Sam. As he squatted down to help you pick up your clothes, you saw Dean walking your dad out of the room.

“Oh so you wanna play the role of daddy now?” Your dad asked, stopping in his tracks.

“Stop. Don’t you dare go there.” Dean warned once again.

“That hunt was a fucking disaster, this room is a fucking disaster, she’s a fucking disaster so have fun taking care of that.” He yelled before he stormed out of the motel room. You flinched as he slammed the heavy door shut, but you continued to force your eyes on the floor. You were fighting back a river of tears and were biting the inside of your lip so hard that you started to taste the metallic blood pool in your mouth.

“Y/N/N.” You heard Dean say.

“Hmmm?” You asked, still not looking up from the floor as you continued to shove your clothes in your bag.

“He didn’t mean that.” He said softly, knowing that you would never believe that he didn’t mean it and that the damage was already done.

“Oh I know, I’m okay.” You said unconvincingly and looked up at them for the first time to send them a quick smile that immediately faltered.

“Bug,” Sam trailed off before you burst into tears. Sam who was still on his knees from helping you put your clothes away, immediately scooted over to you and embraced you. You gripped onto his shirt and buried your head into his chest as sobs wracked through your body.

“Shhhh, shhh, I know, I know, I’m sorry sweetheart.” Sam said, knowing all too well.

You sobbed harder, gripping his shirt tighter, afraid that he’d somehow disappear from under you.

“I’m here, I’m here bug, I’m not going anywhere.” He said, feeling you grip his shirt tighter. Sam looked at Dean whose jaw was clenched at the scene before him.

“I-I’m trying my best!” You sobbed, your father’s words of him mocking you and calling you a disaster ringing in your ears. Dean couldn’t handle seeing you in this kind of distress any longer.

“Kiddo.” He said as he put a comforting hand on your back. You tearfully turned away from Sam’s chest and looked towards him.

“Don’t you ever let him make you feel less than you are, especially not when it comes from his own frustration and you certainly don’t deserve to carry that weight.” He said, his eyes piercing through you to make sure you understand.

“B-but De!” You sobbed. “Y-you don’t deserve it either! None of y-you do! I’m sorry, I-I’m just so s-sorry that I’m a-always causing problems with d-dad and y-you’re f-forced to fix it.” You cried, trying to catch your breath.

“Those problems aren’t because of you and they will never be because of you, kid.” Dean reassured, bringing your shaking body into his. You cried harder into his chest.

“I know, I know.” Dean said softly, knowing you needed to get these emotions out. With every cry, it got harder to catch your breath and Dean immediately caught on.

“Hey, hey, hey, breathe for me kiddo.” He said, rubbing your back, but you continued to gasp for air.

“Sam, grab her inhaler. She’s going to give herself an asthma attack.” Dean said calmly, supporting your weak body. Sam rushed to get your inhaler and puffed the medicine into your mouth. As your lungs opened up, you visibly relaxed into deans arms.

“Atta girl.” Dean said, sighing in relief. Your face was stained with tears and your eyes were bloodshot.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, resting your head on his chest.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m always here for you, and I’ll always have your back, no matter what. You’ve got so much to offer kid. Sammy and I believe in you more than you can imagine. You’re not alone in this.” He said. You lifted your head up to look him in the eyes.

“Thank you.” You said before looking towards Sam.

“You two mean so much to me and I don’t know what I would do without the two of you. Thank you for always having my back. I love you both so much, more than you’ll ever know.” You finished.

“We love you too bug.” Sam said, coming over to you and kissing the side of your head.

“Grab your stuff, I’m getting us a different room from dad.” Dean said, walking towards the door.

“Okay.” You said, not arguing with that.

“We should probably get some candy too for our big movie night we’re going to have.” He said. You snapped your head in his direction with a big teary smile. He shot you a wink and walked out of the room. You smiled to yourself. No matter what your brothers would always be there for you and pull you out of the dark.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

What Is and What Never Should Be | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: Dean's an alcoholic dick, coping with trauma from a sexual assault, mentions of parental abuse, mentions of suicide but like not really cause it’s in a dream, canon violence, canon gore (take care of yourselves, as always. Love you guys.)

Word Count: 5281

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About two weeks had passed since you’d left Deacon’s prison. You were convinced it was the hardest two weeks of your life. You couldn’t quite decide if you wanted Dean hugging you all the time, or if you never wanted anyone to touch you again. It felt like every time you looked in the mirror, you were in that disheveled prison guard outfit again, tears streaming down your face with fresh scrapes trailing down your arm. You felt like you were never going to leave the prison’s parking lot.

It definitely didn’t help that you were also having to deal with being fugitives simultaneously. Sam and Dean were waiting for you back at the motel. You put the two of them on a strict lockdown given their mugshots would be everywhere, and the feds hadn’t seemed to find a clear enough image of you to post yours. You drove the Impala around the area of your newest hunt searching for a potential location the victims could have been brought to while the boys researched back in their motel room. 

You knew Dean could tell you were pulling away from him, and you knew it was hurting him. You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t let him in right now. You didn’t want to burden him with your problems given Sam was supposed to be the main concern right now and evading federal agents was a huge priority. You needed to deal with your issues in silence in order to keep yourself from completely breaking down in front of the boys and pulling focus away from what you believed were more pressing issues.

Your phone rang and broke you out of your thoughts. It was Sam’s number. “Hello?” you said into the phone.

“Hey. Got you on speaker,” he replied. “There’s a cop car outside.”

“You think it’s for us?” you questioned.

“I don't know.”

“I don't see how,” Dean jumped in, his voice a little distant. “I mean we ditched the plates, the credit cards.”

Sam breathed out suddenly. “They're leaving. False alarm.”

“Well, see. Nothing to worry about,” Dean jested.

“Yeah, being fugitives? Friggin’ dance party,” Sam deadpanned.

“Hey, man, chicks dig the danger vibe,” Dean commented.

You scoffed. “Got anything yet?” you asked the boys.

“Just one thing. I'm pretty sure of it now. We're hunting a Djinn,” Sam answered.

“Really? How do you know?” you questioned.

“A freaking genie?” Dean asked simultaneously. “What? You think these suckers can really grant wishes?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “I guess they're powerful enough. But not exactly like Barbara Eden in harem pants. I mean, Djinn have been feeding off people for centuries. They're all over the Quran.”

“And where do these guys shack up?” you asked. 

“Ruins usually. Uh, bigger the better; more places to hide,” Sam replied.

Something struck you. “Y’know, I think I saw a place a couple miles back. I'm gonna go check it out.”

“Hell no, (Y/N),” Dean stated, voice suddenly much closer to the phone. “You’re not goin’ without us.”

“Dean, I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s nothing. I just wanna take a look around,” you argued. 

“I’ll call you guys when I’m headed back.” Despite the voices of the Winchesters protesting, you hung up the phone and turned the Impala around. 

Minutes later, you came upon a decaying factory. Doors squeaked on their hinges as you pushed through them and decades-old papers crunched beneath your feet like fallen leaves. Everything seemed very empty and very abandoned, but you weren’t quite convinced. You headed deeper into the factory past several offices with smashed windows on their doors and blinds hanging crookedly. 

Suddenly, something grabbed you and pinned you to the wall behind you. You dropped the flashlight you were holding as the Djinn pinned your hand above your head. You got a clear look at the monster in front of you; a bald man with curling blue tattoos detailing his face and body. You struggled against him, trying to get your knife through his chest with your free hand, but he pinned that one as well. The eyes before you began to glow an electric blue, and your entire body went numb.

*** The next time you woke up, you were alone in a comfortable bed. You jerked up, turned on the lamp next to you, and took in the room around you. There were scrubs tossed on the back of a rocking chair in the corner of the room and a picture of you and Dean hung on the far wall. 

‘What the fu—’ you thought. 

Suddenly, a shirtless Dean entered the room wearing sweatpants hanging low on his hips. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Dean!” you exclaimed. “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

He eyed you strangely and snorted. “Wha— What do you mean?”

“Where are we?” you asked.

Dean paused, still standing in the doorway and taken aback. “Uh, our house?”

“What?” you questioned.

“Babe, are you feeling okay?” he questioned, sitting on the bed next to you. “I knew your shift at the hospital was bad, but—”

“Wait, what? I don’t work in a hospital, I was hunting a Djinn—” 

Dean cut you off. “You were probably just having a bad dream, sweetheart. Let’s go back to bed, okay?”

You weren’t quite sure what Dean was talking about or if this was even Dean. Maybe  he’d been possessed, maybe you’d been— ‘Wait,’ you thought. ‘The Djinn. Maybe he did this to me.’

Dean climbed into bed next to you, and you noticed he wasn’t wearing the amulet he quite literally never took off. You were apparently eyeing him strangely, because he chuckled, “What?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “Just, uh— where’s your necklace?”

Dean laughed, almost sounding relieved. “Oh, I took it off to shower.” He put a silver chain with dog tags hanging from it around his neck. He opened his arm for you to settle into. 

Hesitantly, you laid down on Dean’s chest. You didn’t get much sleep the remainder of that night, though; incredibly uneasy about what was going on around you. 

Around three in the morning, you slipped out of Dean’s arms and began to explore the house around you. You peeked through the bedroom window to see a neighborhood outside that screamed Middle America. You crept down the hallway to the living room and kitchen area. 

Along the walls of the den, there were photos hanging of what looked like you as a teenager and a child, but you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t think photos of you existed of that time in your life. And if they did exist, they definitely were not of you at your third birthday with a pink frilly party hat stuffing cake in your face or of you in a cap and gown graduating high school and college. The next thing that caught your eye was a picture of you hugging Steven tightly. Your hand flew to your mouth at the sight. However, it wasn’t your Steven. This one was older and a lot happier than the Steven you once knew. 

Then, there were pictures of you and your mother. Your father was nowhere to be seen, much to your surprise. You nearly wept at the sight of your mom. Then, there were pictures of a young Sam and Dean. One was Dean hugging his mother. He looked much older than four which was the age you knew his mother died at. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed out. 

You took out your phone and checked the time. You considered for a moment, but decided to call Sam figuring he would likely be up soon anyway. 

“Sam?” you asked when the call was answered. 

“(Y/N)?” His voice sounded raspy and tired. 

“Hey, yeah, what the hell’s goin’ on, man?” you demanded.

“(Y/N), what are you—”

“Oh, god, not you, too.” You hung up the phone and ran a hand through your hair. No one but you seemed to understand that this wasn’t right. You noticed something laying on the coffee table at your feet. An envelope addressed to you with Lawrence, Kansas written on one of the address lines. 

“Lawrence? Why the fuck am I in Lawrence?” you breathed out. 

You noticed a computer sitting a distance away and immediately hurried to it. You typed in your password; no luck. You tried Sam’s password for his and Dean’s shared laptop; no luck either. Frustrated, you sat back in the desk chair. You weren’t sure where the idea came from, but you suddenly had the thought to type in Steven’s name and birthday. Somehow, it worked. You remembered how that was your original idea for a computer password when you first bought yourself a laptop in your real life, but the reminder of Steven was too painful to do so. 

You then set to work researching the Djinn. You learned that they’re not so much genies as they are wielders of godlike power. They could alter reality to their whims however they want in the past, present, and future. 

Then, the thought hit you. ‘What if this is just my life now? What if I never see my Dean again? Am I even a hunter wherever this is?’ Your breath hitched as you realized something else. ‘Was I ever raped? Are my parents alive? Where’s Stevie?’

You typed “whitepages” into the search bar and put in your father’s full name; no results. You tried your mother’s and actually got a hit. She lived in Lawrence, too. 

‘What the fuck?’

You then tried Steven’s. Surprisingly, his name generated results, too. He also lived in Lawrence. 

You hurriedly wrote their addresses down on a sticky note beside you on the desk. When you returned to your room, it was around five in the morning. Creeping around the room, you discovered the clothes in your closet were nothing like you wore in the real world: flowing skirts, cardigans, and lots of different colored scrubs. You almost smiled at the sight of the clothes hanging in your closet. 

‘In another life, I definitely would’ve worn all this,’ you thought. You’d always wanted Carrie Bradshaw’s closet; Sex and the City was one of your guilty pleasure shows in the real world.

Your outfit of choice consisted of a pair of low-rise jeans, a halter top with a plunging neckline, and… ‘Oh.’ The only shoes this version of you had in her closet were heels. Admittedly, you’d never been great at wearing them, but always wanted to try. And so, you did. 

Dean still slept peacefully, and you carefully clacked your heels back down the hallway. You headed outside to find the Impala in the driveway, and for that, you were grateful. 

“Hey, sweet girl,” you grinned. You remembered seeing car keys on a hook next to the door of the house and quickly grabbed them. You popped open the trunk of the Impala secretly hoping to find something useful in it. However, old playboy magazines and paper cups were all you found.

‘Ew, Dean, clean out your car.’

You moved around to the driver’s side of the car. Before you could sit down in it, though, something caught your eye. A girl with a gaunt face and billowing white clothing was standing across the street on one of the neighbor’s lawns. A car blew past, and she was suddenly gone. 

***

You rolled to a stop in front of the first address you had written down: your mother’s. You tried to keep your composure as you walked up to her front door. Hesitantly, you rapped your knuckles against it. 

The door opened to reveal your beautiful mother who you’d missed so much. She looked a little older than she did the last time you saw her, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from throwing your arms around her.

“Mom?” you breathed out.

“What is it, hon?” she asked. “C’mon, come inside.”

The sound of her voice made tears spring to your eyes. You followed her into the living room where pictures of you and Steven lined the walls between crucifixes.

“Hey, Mom?” you started. “What song did you sing to me before you used to put me to bed?”

She looked confused, but humored you anyway. “The, uh, ‘The Long to Be’ song by the Carpenters.”

You smiled, partially in relief that this seemed to really be her and not just a figment of your imagination and partially at the fact that she knew. You rushed to her and hugged her tightly. Your mother seemed taken aback once more, but didn’t say anything to let on that she was.

“You okay? Everything alright with Dean?” your mother asked you. 

“Oh, yeah, everything’s— everything’s great. Just, uh, it was a rough day at the hospital, ‘s all,” you said.

“How’s the garage?” 

You tilted your head. “The garage?”

She seemed confused, too. “Dean’s? How’s work going for him?”

“Oh, oh. The garage, of course,” you laughed awkwardly. ‘Smooth, (Y/N),’ you mentally berated yourself. “Yeah, it’s fine, it’s great.”

“Really? Last time we talked, he was too busy drinking to focus on fixing a car,” she said.

You felt stunned. The Dean you knew was bordering on becoming an alcoholic, sure, but he wouldn’t let that get in the way of his job.

“Baby, I’m glad to see you, but why are you here at six in the morning?” your mom questioned.

“I just— I just couldn’t sleep. Needed to see my mom,” you replied. It was a half-truthful response.

Your mother offered a small, thoughtful smile. “Oh,” she suddenly said. “What time are you and Dean going to dinner tonight?”

You tilted your head. “Uh—”

“For Mary’s birthday?” she prompted. 

“Oh, oh,” you said. “Right.”

“Did he not tell you?” she asked. “(Y/N), I’ve been telling you that boy isn’t right for you for a while now.”

“Mom—” you protested.

“No, (Y/N). You’re a fantastic nurse. You’re dating a drunkard mechanic. Why couldn’t you have dated Sam?”

“Ew, mom, no. Sam’s my best friend,” you said.

She seemed stunned. “What? That’s new. Last we talked, you hadn’t heard from Sam in months. Neither had Dean.”

It was your turn for your eyes to widen. “Right, right, yeah. Sorry. I’m just—”

“Have you been drinking? Dean’s rubbing off on you, (Y/N). You should have listened to me when I warned you about him,” your mother sighed. 

“Jesus, Mom—”

“Don’t take his name in vain!” she scolded.

You scoffed. “I forgot that you’re like this.” You crossed your arms and turned away from her. 

“Like what?” your mother pressed, voice rising. 

“So incredibly judgmental of me. I’ve never been good enough for you or Dad, Mom!”

“How dare you bring up your father!” your mother cut you off.

“What?!”

“Wow, you really are drunk, (Y/N),” she replied. “He’s been dead almost your whole life. You barely even knew him. How could you say that about him?”

You felt like you’d been punched in the chest. ‘So that means he never hit us.’ “Mom, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Just leave, (Y/N). Please. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she sighed.

You turned and slammed the door behind you. You sat in the Impala with your head on the steering wheel just trying to process everything that was going on. Even in this fantasy land or new reality or wherever this place was, your mother was harshly critical of you. Granted, you’d rather her harshly criticize you and be alive than dead, but this version of your mother perfectly mirrored the true version of her. It truly freaked you out. 

‘Well, scratch that off the list, I guess,’ you thought.

***

You hesitantly knocked on the door of your little brother’s home. 

“(Y/N)?” he asked upon opening the door.

Tears sprang to your eyes. “Steve?” you breathed out.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” he asked.

You smiled as a tear slipped down your cheek. “Uh, just a hard day at work ‘s all,” you replied. You threw yourself into his arms; a hug he responded to immediately. 

“Hey, seriously, what happened?” he asked when you pulled away. “Was it Dean again? The hospital never gets to you like that.”

“Wait, what? No,” you shook your head. “Why does everybody keep saying he treats me poorly?”

Steven looked at you as if it was obvious. “Uh, ‘cause he does. He’s an alcoholic playboy asshole that you’re way too good for.”

“What?!” you questioned. “No, he isn’t.”

He sighed. “Listen, (Y/N), I don’t wanna keep having this fight with you.”

“Yeah, me neither,” you replied. You stopped for a moment. “Stevie, I’m really happy to see you.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m glad to see you, too.”

A small voice piped up from behind your brother. “Daddy?”

Steven stepped back to reveal a staggering toddler in pigtails. He picked her up and grinned down at her. “What’s up, kiddo?”

‘He’s a dad?’ Your shock only increased, and you smiled at the sight of them interacting. Another tear slipped down your cheek. 

“Why’s Minnie crying?” the toddler asked her father.

You grinned. “She calls me ‘Minnie’?” 

Steven nodded. “Yeah, just like I used to.”

You laughed. “Can I hold her?”

“Duh,” he replied, handing his daughter to you.

“Hi, sweet girl,” you grinned down at her. She tugged on the ends of your hair, babbling happily and singing to herself.

“Look, Minnie, I braid.” The toddler held up a now twisted, knotted mess of your hair. 

You smiled at her. “Awesome job, angel.” 

You sat on the floor playing with your niece and Steven for hours until your phone rang.

“Hey, (Y/N), where ya been?” Dean’s voice came from the other line.

“Steven’s,” you replied. “Why, what’s up?”

“We gotta be at my mom’s in an hour. Meet me there?” he asked.

*** You met Dean on the steps of his mother’s house. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he grinned, pecking your lips. 

Suddenly, a voice came from behind you. “Seriously, Dean?”

“Sam!” you exclaimed, turning around to give him an enthusiastic hug. He hesitated to return it, and the woman next to him cleared her throat. You released him to come face to face with Jessica, a woman you’d only seen in pictures. 

“Hey, Jess,” you said, the name feeling strange on your tongue. You hugged her as well, and she awkwardly laughed.

“Hi, (Y/N),” she said. 

You then noticed the awkward distance between the two brothers and the bags Sam was lugging out of the trunk of the taxi in front of you. 

“Where'd you guys come from?” you asked.

“We just flew in from... Califor—”

“California! Stanford and everything. Right, sorry,” you laughed. “I’m really not with it today.”

Sam nodded somewhat disapprovingly. “I can see that.” He motioned to the beer in Dean’s hand. “I see you started off Mom's birthday with a bang, as usual.”

“Sam—” Dean warned.

Your heart was breaking at the awkward tension between two brothers who were otherwise incredibly close friends. You couldn’t believe there was a universe where Sam and Dean weren’t, well, Sam and Dean.

***

The restaurant you sat in next to Dean was stuffy. Sam and Jessica were dressed equally as stuffy. Nothing felt right at this moment. You were suddenly reminded of the reason why you were here, and that you needed to figure out how to help yourself get out of here. 

“Wow, that... looks awesome,” Dean said, referring to the plate of steak and asparagus that had been placed in front of him.

Sam raised his glass. “All right. To Mom. Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” you, Dean, and Jessica said in unison.

“Thank you,” Mary replied, clinking her glass against yours.

You watched Sam and Jessica peck each other on the lips and you smiled fondly. 

“I was really worried about you last night,” Dean told you.

“Oh, I'm… I'm good. I'm really good,” you nodded.

“For some reason, I don’t believe you,” he smirked. “I know a few ways I can make that a reality, though.”

You recoiled at that comment, slightly dumbfounded by how correct Steven had been about Dean’s behavior in this realm.

“Jess and I actually have another surprise for Mom's birthday. Ah,” Sam turned to Jessica, “you wanna tell 'em?”

“They're your family,” she laughed.

“What? Tell me what?” Mary asked excitedly.

Sam held up Jessica’s left hand to reveal an engagement ring. You laughed happily in surprise. “Holy shit! That’s amazing!” You got up and hugged Sam happily before hugging Jessica. “Congratulations!” you told them.

“I just wish your dad was here,” Mary told Sam.

You suddenly realized John was missing. You searched Sam’s face, whose disappointment mirrored his mother’s.

Dean and Sam awkwardly shook hands which hurt your heart a little to see. Just behind them, though, you noticed the girl from earlier. Her white, flowing clothing was much filthier and torn this time. You brushed past Sam and headed toward the girl, pushing past people mingling in between you and the haunting figure. As you pushed past the final woman, the girl was gone.

Confused, you turned back around to see the equally weirded-out faces of the Winchester family. 

Sheepishly, you grinned and walked back over to them.

*** “You got somethin’ we need to talk about?” Dean asked you. He’d been completely silent since dinner up until this moment. He downed a beer in the kitchen before turning to you. 

“What?” you asked.

“Back there with Sam. What’s going on with you two?” Dean asked. “In fact, you’ve been acting really weird the past two days. There somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

You scoffed. “Dean, I’m not fucking your brother. Look, I’m not feeling like myself right now. ‘S all.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Dean responded mockingly.

“Dude, why are you being such a dick?” you questioned.

“Oh, so we just call each other ‘dude’ now?” he argued.

“Listen, I’m really not enjoying this attitude, okay?” you responded.

Dean cut you off. “I’m not enjoying yours, either. What happened to the sweet little nurse I married?”

“Jesus, we’re married?” you questioned before you could help yourself. 

“(Y/N), what the hell?” Dean replied, his confusion seeming to grow by the minute. 

“I think I’m just… overly tired. I’m gonna… sleep out here tonight,” you said.

Dean scoffed. “Since when are you the childish one?”

“I’m not being childish, Dean, I just wanna sleep on the couch tonight, okay?” you hissed.

“Fine.” He left the room and returned to the bedroom the two of you apparently shared. You heard the door slam a moment later, and you flinched. You settled to the couch and pulled a blanket over yourself. You clicked on the television and began clicking through the channels. Something on the news caught your attention.

“And today marks the anniversary of the crash of United Britannia Flight 424,” the reporter began.

“What the—” you breathed out. 

“Indianapolis residents held a candlelight vigil in memory of the hundred and eight people who lost their lives—”

Your throat clenched. “No, no. We stopped that crash.”

Panicked, you moved to your computer. Every hunt you checked had apparently never happened. “Nine Children Comatose” was the headline describing a “mystery illness” that had swept Dane County Hospital. Then, the brutal homicides from the clown killer after John died. And Taylor from the closing-down-Hoodoo-hotel case had drowned in the hotel pool. As you looked out the front window, you saw the same woman you’d seen twice already flash by the window. You turned around to see several female corpses hanging around you, and you nearly screamed out in surprise. Then, that same woman again flickering in front of you.

This twisted world was completely shocking even you, an experienced hunter. Your mind raced, but you knew what you had to do. A picture of your dad holding you as a baby on the wall of your house caught your attention.

“I’m sorry you’re not here, Dad,” you murmured. “And I know what I need to do. I’m gonna hunt this son of a bitch, but… I don’t know. Stevie’s happy. Mom’s… Mom. And I just— Why do we always have to be the ones to sacrifice something? A part of me is happy to do it, and this is proof that I could never have this. But it’s just… I don’t know. I know you’re tellin’ me to stop whinin’ and just get it done. I’ll make you proud. I promise.”

And with that, you grabbed a silver knife from your china cabinet and headed out to the Impala. You managed to steal lamb’s blood from a butcher’s shop and headed to the factory you’d last seen the Djinn at. 

***

Hours later, you arrived at the factory in Illinois. Running on pure adrenaline, you headed inside. You moved your flashlight around to illuminate different parts of the factory, and you ignored your phone as it began to ring in your back pocket. The ringing silenced, and then rang again. Without thinking, you lifted your phone over your head and slammed it into the ground, shattering and silencing it completely.

Then, you came across a big store room with the same bodies you’d seen hanging in your living room strung up around it. Next, you noticed the woman you’d been seeing all along. She seemed close to death; her cheeks sallow, face pale, and body hanging limply. 

“It’s her,” you breathed out.

Suddenly, you saw the Djinn coming around the corner. You ducked into the shadows as the woman began to cry. “Where's my dad? I won't tell—” she suddenly cut herself off. “Don't. Where's my dad?”

“Sleep,” you heard a soothing male voice say. “Sleep.”

You then saw the woman’s body completely relax, and the Djinn began to drink from the blood bag next to where she was hanging. 

‘So that’s what it does,’ you realized. ‘It doesn’t grant you a wish, it just makes you think it has.’ As the Djinn disappeared, you continued to think. ‘What if I'm like her? What if I'm tied up in here some place? What if all this is in my head?’ You walked up to the woman. “I mean it could, you know, maybe it gives us some kind of supernatural acid, and then just feeds on us slow.’ You nearly scoffed audibly. ‘So, she’s not a spirit, she’s a flash of reality. I’m catatonic. Fucking great.’

Then, you remembered an old wives’ tale. “Listen to me, motherfucker!” you called into the darkness. “I’m gonna slit my fucking throat! I die in a dream, I wake up, right! Come and get me, I dare you!”

“Wait!” Dean’s voice suddenly called. He walked into the room. 

“Why'd you have to keep digging?” Sam asked.“Why couldn't you have left well enough alone? You were happy.”

Your mother walked up to you and put a hand to your cheek. “Put the knife down, honey.”

“You're not real,” you said, tears forming in your eyes. “None of it is.”

“It doesn't matter. It's still better than anything you had,” Steven replied, holding his daughter. 

“What?” you breathed.

“It's everything you want. C’mon, let’s go home,” Dean pleaded. 

“I'll die,” you argued, voice breaking. “The Djinn 'll drain the life out of me in a couple of days.”

“But in here, with us, it'll feel like years. Like a lifetime,” your mother said. “I promise.” She put her hand to your cheek and stroked it with her thumb. “No more pain. Or fear. Just love and comfort. And safety. (Y/N), stay with us. Get some rest.”

“You and Dean don't have to worry about Sam anymore,” Jessica said. “You get to watch him live a full life.”

Dean walked up to you and kissed you fiercely. “We can have a future together. Have our own family. I love you, sweetheart. Please.”

“Why is it our job to save everyone? Haven't we done enough?” Sam tried. “I'm begging you. Give me the knife.”

You looked over to Steven, your lip quivering as you sobbed. “I’m sorry.” You slashed your throat with the knife, and the world went white once more. 

***

“(Y/N)!” you heard someone yelling. “Sweetheart, wake up. (Y/N)!”

‘Dean.’

“Oh, God. Come on,” you heard Sam murmuring. “Hey. Wake up. Wake up, damn it!”

You began to roll your head a little, and your eyes could finally open. “Hey, guys.”

“Jesus, (Y/N),” Dean sighed. “I thought I lost you for a second.” 

One of the two boys yanked out the IV in your arm. 

“You almost did,” you joked half-heartedly.

“Oh, god,” Dean muttered, giving you a once-over. “Let's get you down.”

You winced as the boys helped you down, but you suddenly saw a pair of blue eyes glowing behind the boys. “Boys!”

Sam wheeled around, going at the Djinn with the knife. Dean immediately tried to get you away from the scene and set you down a distance away from the scene. “Stay here!” he ordered.

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I,” you groaned as Dean turned to help his brother. Several yelps and groans later, the two boys staggered over to you after having killed the Djinn. You pushed yourself off the floor, wincing, and immediately moved over to the girl you’d been seeing in your sleep. “She's still alive!” you called to the boys upon feeling a pulse in her neck. 

The two Winchesters helped you cut her down and get her out of the factory to a hospital. 

***

Upon your return to the motel, you found out from the hospital that she was alive and stable. There was a solid chance the girl would pull through.

“How 'bout you? You all right?” Sam asked you.

“Yeah, I’m fine, guys,” you said. “I’m great, actually. I’m just— I’m just glad to be back here again.”

“What was it like?” Dean asked.

“Oh, you were a complete dick,” you replied.

Dean chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

“And Sam— Sam you were such a freak,” you said. “All stuffy and Stanford-y.” You paused for a moment. “But, uh, you guys were really breakin’ my heart, honestly. You couldn’t get along to save your life.”

“I thought it was supposed to be this perfect fantasy,” Sam said.

“Trust me, it wasn’t,” you replied. “I know we’ve lost a lot, but, uh, I wouldn’t trade any of this for the world. Even seeing Stevie again, I— it just wasn’t right. I felt like more of a freak there than I do here. I, uh, I wished what happened to me at the prison never had, but the truth is, that’s always gonna be with me. I can’t just… get rid of it. Nothing can. And that’s not okay, but I’ll learn to live with it.” 

You left the boys to sit with your words and moved to the bathroom. When you looked up at the mirror, an image of you with your mussed-up hair and guard uniform on flashed before you. You ignored the fresh-looking scrapes on your arm and blood streaking down them and shut your eyes. When you opened them once more, you were back to looking at your sunken face and tired eyes. 

Dealing with this was hell. Every day felt like a struggle since what happened to you. But deep down, if you were honest with yourself, you would take dealing with all this with your two boys over your white-picket-fence, Djinn-dream-life any day.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

I was wondering if I can request a sam Winchester x fem reader smut and fluff, where maybe he's an alpha and he and Dean are out hunting or something and maybe they get ambushed but then are saved by omega reader, and Sam is head over heels for her from the beginning, but she is unsure cause of comments in her past saying that's she's weak or something and then maybe after a while he asks her out on a date and it goes well and they keep seeing each other and eventually smut

.⋆｡Something Happens And I’m Head Over Heels｡⋆.

Alpha!Sam Winchester x omega! plus size reader

When a mysterious hunter swoops in and saves the Winchesters at the last second, Sam falls in love at first sight but she’s been hurt by alphas like him before.

Warnings: smut, a/b/o, angst, monster death, canon typical violence, injuries, parental abuse/neglect (not just for the Winchesters), mention of parental death, consent checks, oral (m and f receiving), no penetration, confessions, sort of mutual pining, he falls HARD

WC: 6.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The coppery smell of blood was now almost permanently etched into Sam’s mind. He had smelt blood straight from a wound and even blood that was weeks old but nothing had ever smelt like this before. The scent was so thick he could practically taste it. He gagged on the stale air silently, still cautious of how much noise he was making.

The walls of the abandoned warehouse were painted a rusty brown and when Sam looked closer, he immediately shut his eyes, trying to repress his nausea- it was dried blood, caked on so thick it looked like paint. His grip on the machete in his hands tightened until his knuckles were a deathly white.

Get in. Take out the vamps. Get out. He repeated to himself as he continued his journey into the heart of the nest.

From what he and Dean had predicted there were, at most, 6 vamps in the nest. And while normally that number would constitute calling in backup, Sam’s rut was only a few days away so he had the strength of three grown (and frustrated) men so they went in alone.

Sunlight leaked through the boarded up windows, providing the only illumination to guide his way. Vaguely, he could hear his brother’s footsteps from the other side of the otherwise silent building. Soon, the hall opened up before him, revealing a huge room absolutely full of bodies, both dead and undead.

His heart pounded in his ears as panic quickly overtook him. Their calculations were very very wrong- there were close to a dozen vampires littered around the room, each with at least three drained corpses around them. His hazel eyes went wide as he caught sight of Dean, only now entering the room on the other side.

He saw as Dean’s chest hitched, the situation dawning on him. They made eye contact and with an almost investable nod to each other, then slowly began to back out of the room. Even with Sam’s temporary strength, there was no possible way they could kill that many vamps safely.

His whole body was tense, both rearing for a fight and ready to run at a moment’s notice. 

Clang!

The pipe appeared from thin air, practically materialising before him just as Sam put his foot down. The metal spun away from him before he realised what was happening and slammed into the hollow siding of the hallway. 

Everything froze and Sam held his breath. “Looks like we got some fresh meat boys!” He cursed under his breath and spun around just quickly enough to see the vamps rising to their feet, eyes blazing with bloodlust.

The plastic handle of his machete suddenly seemed incredibly slippery as Sam readjusted his grip on the weapon. They couldn’t kill this many vamps at once and they certainly couldn’t outrun them but they definitely weren’t going down without a fight.

Debris crunched under his heel as Sam planted his feet, his pupils contracted to a pin drop and his chest rumbled with a deep growl. His scent turned sour with his fury. “Bring it.”

His blade whistled as it slashed through the air, easily biting into the neck of the first vamp. Its head separated cleanly but Sam’s follow through was too long and quickly, the second darted towards him, razor sharp teeth bared. 

With a snarl, he planted a hand on its chest and shoved the monster back, giving him just enough room to plant the blade into its shoulder. It howled in pain but continued to charge forward, yellowing fangs glinting in the low light.

Sam’s shoulder jerked as he pulled the blade back out but before he could complete a second swing, another vamp threw itself towards his legs, quickly knocking him off balance. Fear prickled across his skin as his back slammed into the metal wall. There was a crunch and then pain shot up his right shoulder.

He tried to curse but all that escaped him was a feral growl that echoed through the building. A bulk of the nest now crowded the hallway, each pushing and shoving, trying to get at the hunter. Fangs sliced into his calf as more hands grabbed at him, ripping the blade from his hold.

Just as his desperate struggle to get free seemed fruitless, light filled the hallway and the dark figure of a woman was silhouetted against the afternoon sun. The vamps barely had time to react to the burn of the light before her arm cocked back and she threw a pipe into the middle of the crowd.

As soon as the thick metal hit the dusty ground, it set off an explosion, sending thick almost black liquid all over them. It sunk into their flesh, spreading through them like molten lava. There was a moment where everything froze and then a sound erupted from the vamps.

They screamed in pain as they clawed at their skin. Suddenly Sam was free but it was not his blade that struck down the suffering vamps. 

She moved with more grace than he ever thought possible, her own machete almost dancing through the air as she effortlessly operated their heads from their bodies. Within seconds, the warehouse was silent once more, leaving behind only the smell of blood and the most delicious scent Sam had smelled in his life.

Without a word, the hunter wiped her blade clean with the shirt of one of the vamps and slid it back into the sheath strapped to her plump thigh. “You hurt?” But all he could focus on was the little smear of blood on her full cheek, oh how badly did he want to reach out and wipe it away with his thumb.

Her eyebrows scrunched and gave him a once over. “That’s a pretty gnarly bite you got there, can you walk?” She reached a tentative hand to him, quite obviously taking note of the husky scent of his rut, and it was all Sam could do not to snatch it up and press his nose to the pulse point on her wrist.

She easily helped him back to his feet, laying a steadying touch on his toned stomach when he began to sway. His heart flipped and the world shrunk to just her. “Sammy!”

Her head turned to look where his brother’s voice had come, exposing her scent gland to the alpha who couldn’t help but take in a deep breath, eager for another whiff of what he thought his heaven smelled like. Old books, campfire, home. 

“Sammy, huh?” She teased, the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips. His knees buckled. Yet before he could come up with a semi-articulate response, Dean barrelled around the corner, eyes wide and full of fear.

The biting scent of adrenaline came off of him in waves and the mysterious woman immediately cringed, her nose scrunching. Anger flared in Sam’s belly, his alpha screamed at him to pull her away from whatever was causing her such discomfort, even if it was his brother.

As soon as Dean saw Sam, his body sagged with relief. “Shit that was a close one.” He groaned but quickly, his tone changed when he caught sight of the plump woman standing next to his brother. “I see you found a friend, a very attractive one. Dean Winchester, and that is my gigantor baby brother.”

He easily slid up to her, his green eyes hungrily tracing her soft curves before settling on her face. Sam knew that move, he had seen it hundreds of times before but it was only now that he had a problem with it. “Y/N. You boys should know better to take on a whole nest alone.” 

Dean actually looked sheepish at her scolding and Sam’s alpha preened. “Strong omega. Perfect mate.” He purred.

“Well, we thought there were less. How the fuck did you kill all of ‘em so quick?” He looked around at the bodies in amazement, giving the one closest to him a kick. The skin where his boot touched crumbled into ash.

“Pipe bomb filled with blessed dead man’s blood.” She replied like it was obvious.

“Blessed?” Sam croaked out. Y/N shivered at the sound of his voice but quickly suppressed it as she spoke again.

“Like how you would bless holy water.” Dean nodded in approval, the hand holding his machete going slack as he forced himself to relax with the danger gone. But Sam still felt incredibly wound up, especially as his brother approached her. 

“That was badass, for an omega that is.” Sam didn’t miss the way she flinched, however minute it was. 

“Yeah.” She smoothly took a step back from him, her body twisting beautifully as she moved towards the exit. Unconsciously, Sam began to follow. He needed to be close to her, to soothe the ache in his chest.

Dean gave a quizzical look to his brother but he was ignored as Sam limped behind her, his alpha slowly stealing control from him, rut now dangerously close. 

“So do you wanna go get a drink with us to celebrate, I think we owe you a round.” But she waved him off as she walked to her slightly busted up truck. He watched the way her hips swayed, the dark material of her jeans perfectly hugging her ass in a way that made Sam’s mouth go dry.

“Bars aren’t my thing. Maybe I’ll catch you another time. Try not to get yourselves killed.” Her machete is thrown into the passenger seat with far more force than necessary, making the hollow siding reverberate as she climbed in after it.

The engine roared to life, quickly breaking Sam from his trance. But before he could even take one step towards the truck, she was gone, leaving behind only echoes of her scent.

——————

She couldn’t stop thinking about that alpha no matter how hard she tried to forget him, even though it had been weeks since the unfortunate encounter. There was just something about the way his big hazel eyes had looked up at her as she saved his life or the sound of his voice. But most of all, his scent was almost seared into her mind, a delicious mixture of gunpowder, pine forest and chocolate.

Never in her life had she smelt something as good as that and it was slowly killing her. Alphas were dangerous, alpha hunters doubly so. They were violent and aggressive and more pigheaded than she ever thought possible, and they hated omegas.

Sure, they liked fucking them but they refused to claim them. Omegas were just rut bunnies, a tool to get off so they could go back to killing monsters. And an omega hunting? She had been laughed out of more hunter bars and backups than she could count. So it was best to just forget him, she didn’t think she could bear it if he was like the others, if he was like his brother.

Y/N swallowed thickly, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. Even his name was pretty, Sam like some guardian angel or an ancient warrior. He was strong and tall and packed with muscle. Her omega constantly reminded her of what a perfect mate he was, how he could provide for her and her pups, how safe he made her feel.

With every mile she drove away, her soul burned, urging her to turn the truck around and drive straight back to him. But her willpower was stronger… for now at least.

But until that day came, she would do what she did best- hunt.

——————

“C’mon Sammy, you’ve been sulking for weeks. She was just an omega!” Sam glared at his brother over top of his beer, the fifth of the night. He couldn’t just forget her, not when he had never met anyone like her before, not when the very thought of her made his heart clench and butterflies fill his stomach.

It had been easy to learn all about her from Bobby and Rufus. They both sung her praises, describing her as immensely intelligent and well versed in all sorts of lore as well as being cunning enough to escape a den of werewolves with only a screwdriver and a half-empty lighter. With every story they told and little fact they divulged, Sam fell even deeper in love with her.

She was an enigma of the best kind.

“You’re being an asshole Dean, what exactly does her presentation have to do with her value as a hunter?”

“Jesus Sammy.” Dean scoffed. “What crawled up your ass and died?” Sam rolled his eyes and stood from the old booth.

“I’m going back to the motel, text me if you aren’t coming back tonight.” He walked out of the bar before he could hear Dean’s protests.

The biting winter air calmed his anger some but that simmering disappointment in his brother was still there. Y/N was not just an omega yet for some fucking reason, no one else agreed. It made his blood boil.

Stuffing his hands into his jacket, Sam began the short walk back to the motel. A part of him wondered if Dean was right, they had only met once and it was for barely ten minutes before she was off again. But so much more of him wondered why she was gone, why they had never seen her before or even heard of her. She was a great hunter so why did no one call her for backup.

With his head down and lost in his thoughts, the tall hunter didn’t notice the familiar truck parked in the spot by his shared room until he almost walked right into it. 

The tip of his boots stopped right before the back tire as he gazed at the vehicle in amazement. She was here. His eyes darted along the row of rooms, searching for any indication of where she might be. His pulse sped up as he finally caught a whiff of her dizzying scent. 

His heart jumped as he realised that it was coming from the room right next to his, a coincidence that he would be eternally grateful for. Warmth bloomed from his chest as he cautiously raised his hand and knocked on the ancient looking door.

There was a shuffling from the other side and then slowly, the door creaked open. Sam groaned softly as a fresh wave of her scent washed over him. It was raw and overpowering and immediately went to his cock. 

Her eyes were bleary with exhaustion as she looked at the alpha on her doorstep. “Sam?” His chest rumbled with a pleased sound at the way she said his name. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m in the room next door.” His eyes wandered down the length of her curvy body which was now only covered by an oversized shirt and some fluffy socks. One of her hands nervously tugged on the hem of the shirt in an attempt to cover more of her naked thighs.

She shuffled her feet nervously as if contemplating something before she stepped to the side. “You can come in if you want.” 

There was not an ounce of hesitation in Sam’s mind as he stepped into her room. His chest puffed out in pride at being allowed to enter the omega’s space. She followed behind him after locking the door but still kept her distance. She was obviously wary of him and for the life of him, Sam couldn’t understand why.

An awkward silence settled over the pair, neither one of them knowing how to begin the conversation. She avoided making eye contact as the slightly older hunter forced himself to stop looking at her thick thighs. 

“Why-“ “I-“ They both spoke at the same time. Y/N laughed softly under her breath and Sam watched as she finally relaxed, taking a seat at the edge of her bed. His own smile began to grow and took the liberty of sitting opposite her on the arm of the couch.

The room was so small that their knees were barely inches away from each other but neither wanted to move any further away. “Bobby said you had asked about me.” She said bluntly if not a little bashfully. A blush spread across Sam’s face and suddenly he felt incredibly small.

“Yeah I did.” He admitted. “I was curious about you.”

She tilted her head in confusion. “Why?”

Taking a deep breath, he rested his elbows onto his knees, making himself as small as he could. “You just… captured me, I’ve never met a hunter like you before and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to know more.” She sat straight up as her eyes narrowed.

“You wanted to know how an omega could hunt.” She snarled. 

“No! No, you being an omega has nothing to do with it. I asked Bobby because well, I couldn’t believe how clever you were. I mean come on, blessed blood? I don’t think anyone else has come up with that idea. You took out that whole nest by yourself!” He rushed to defend himself. He laid a large palm onto her knee as if that could drive his point home but all it really did was make his mind go blank except for the thought of just how soft her skin was.

Sam expected her to lurch from his touch but to his surprise, Y/N nudged her knee even closer to him, albeit slightly warily. “It wasn’t the whole nest.” She muttered shyly with her head tilted downwards, exposing her collar. Sam’s alpha grumbled happily at the submission but he swallowed the noise down, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

“Even if it wasn’t, we- I would have been dead without you and that’s why I wanted to find you, to learn about you because I wanted to thank you and maybe, get to know you a bit more.” The expression on her face grew more pensive as she looked into his eyes.

“You don’t care that I’m an omega?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I don’t care about that, but that part has nothing to do with you hunting.” His fingers curled into her flesh, sending a fresh wave of her scent through the room. “You being an omega is far from a detriment in my eyes.” His voice dropped lower, becoming husky and laced with arousal. 

Her thighs squeezed together, trapping his hand between her warm legs. Sam leaned forward even more, their foreheads almost touching. He watched as her gaze flicked to his lips. “You can’t mean that.” She whispered but it was directed at herself, as if she were trying to remind herself of something.

With his free hand, the alpha gently brushed his fingertips along her jaw before his palm settled against the soft swell of her cheek. “You’ll be like all the other alphas out there.” But still, she leaned closer, resting her forehead against his. 

“I promise I’m not.” Her fingers tentatively worked their way into the buttons of his flannel and Sam’s heart skipped a beat. The silence that fell between them now was far from uncomfortable. Y/N took in a deep breath, swallowing down the alpha’s scent before she groaned quietly.

“You wouldn’t stop an omega from hunting?” Sam shook his head. “You wouldn’t force them to be subservient?” 

“Never.” He vowed as his lips brushed against her cupid’s bow. Her chest hitched.

“What about claiming?” Sam’s hand skirted higher up her legs until the calloused tips of his fingers disappeared beneath her night shirt. Heat radiated from her core as slick soaked through her thin panties.

Sam was almost delirious with lust and apparently, Y/N was the same. Her pupils were blown wide, the blackness consuming the natural colour of her irises. “Hypothetically?” She nodded, knowing that this conversation was veering into far from hypothetical. “Only when they’re ready, and I will be fine if they never are.”

She smiled widely and just as she leaned forwards to kiss him, there came a pounding on the door. “Sam!! You in there?!” At the sound of Dean’s voice, she threw herself back as if she were a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar. 

Sam actually whined as his hands were ripped from her skin. “Yeah Dean.” He growled, quickly standing and shielding her half-naked body through the door was still firmly shut.

“Sheriffs just found another body, we gotta move.” Y/N sat up on the bed, her interest now focused on the case.

“Was it the pawn shop owner’s wife?” She piped up.

There was a pause and then, “Y/N? Damn Sammy, you need an extra 10 minutes? Cause we definitely have time if you do.”

“Dean.” Sam warned, but the omega’s soft touch upon his hand stopped him in his tracks. 

Y/N’s eyes blazed with a fire he had never seen before as she lifted herself from the now crumpled bed sheets. Her gaze was hard and firmly set upon the door as if she could see right through it to the idiotic alpha outside. Sam watched as the omega melted away and was replaced by the hardened hunter.

“Go. I’ll catch up with you two later. I have something to take care of.” Sam’s heart dropped to his stomach and he opened his mouth to protest, to insist that she come with them. Not because he thought she needed any sort of protection but that he didn’t think he could bear to be away from her for even a second. But then her glare settled on him.

He tried to turn his wrist to capture her hand in his but she pulled back from him quickly. “You should stay here, where you’re safe.”

He would never admit to it, but Sam cowered, shrinking in upon himself as Y/N’s lip turned downwards. “Go.” She snarled and before he could even comprehend what her sudden change in demeanour meant, Sam was out the door and his alpha howled with shame.

She rejected him and he had no clue how to fix it.

——————

Somehow, through the incredibly awkward tension and the less-than-perfect hunt, all three of the young hunters now found themselves in Bobby’s living room, a heavy air between them.

Y/N nursed a beer and a slightly swollen cheek as well as the angriest look on her face. Even Dean cringed away from her line of sight like a little boy escaping a scolding. “Any of you wanna tell me exactly what happened out there?”

Bobby shoved an ice pack into her awaiting hand before leaning against the desk at the far end of the room. “Just bone-headed alphas getting in my way.” She snarled and took a pull of her drink, her scent now bitter like stale coffee. 

“Y/N, now’s not the time.” Bobby sighed, his head dropping between his shoulders. The omega turned her glare to him but he did not falter away like the boys did. “Hunts are always gonna be tough but you gotta work with the cards you’re dealt with and trust your partners. And these boys are the best you could ask for, alphas or not.”

Her growl echoed through the room before she slammed her beer down and stormed off. A bedroom door slammed shut soon after, rocking the foundations of the house. “That girl.” Bobby muttered, shaking his head mournfully.

Sam looked up the stairs longingly, part of him wanting to follow after her but also knowing that doing so might only worsen the already rocky relationship between them.

“What is her deal anyway?” Dean sat forward on the couch, planting his elbows onto his knees. Bobby’s hand curled around his tumbler of whisky, knuckles turning pale.

“You boys weren’t the only ones to grow up under the thumb of an obsessed hunter but the only difference between you is, she had both parents. Both alphas, both life-long hunters, and both believed that omegas were beneath them in every way. She was bait.”

Sam and Dean sucked in a breath, they both knew what that meant. Omegas would be stripped of all weapons or protective symbols and then sent into bars that vampires frequented or told to go for a walk in the woods where werewolf dens were. Their scent was the sweetest and the most appetising. Most of the time, the omega would make it out with minimal injuries but there were some hunters out there who would let whatever monster they were tracking down have a little treat before killing them.

“She got smart, learned how to gank monsters using whatever she could find and yet her parents took all the credit. They got lazy, letting her do the hunt while they went to go drink or do whatever the fuck else besides trying to protect their daughter. And one day, when she was recovering from a witch’s curse, they decided to get the hunt done themselves. They were slow and stupid. Y/N found them two days later, completely ripped apart. She’s been hunting alone ever since.”

“Shit.” Dean leaned back on the couch, running a hand through his cropped hair. “I figured she was just bitter about an ex or something. I- Sam!” The youngest Winchester sprang to his feet and before anyone could stop him, he pounded up the stairs and threw open her bedroom door.

Y/N sat against the headboard, eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving with barely controlled panic. Sam didn’t hesitate to yank her into his arms, forcing her face into the crook of his neck as he held her tightly. She thrashed against him, her warning snarls only ceasing when she finally inhaled his scent.

Tentatively, she placed her hands on his muscular back as Sam’s arms tightened around her shoulders, his head resting on top of her own. “You don’t need to worry anymore, omega. I’m right here.” Sam pressed his lips to the crown of her head, giving her a gentle kiss. “No one will ever hurt you again, not while I’m around.”

Her soft body slowly relaxed into him and the alpha could feel the weight being eased from her shoulders. “You can’t know that, it’s an impossible promise to make.”

Sam’s left hand slid up the soft curve of her arm, his fingertips gently brushing along her neck before settling on her jaw. He tilted her head up just enough so that she could meet his hazel eyes. His gaze flickered over her face, settling on her lips for a moment too long before finally looking longingly into her wide eyes.

“Because I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, happy and loved, no matter what.” Her breath hitched and for a moment, doubt crept into Sam’s mind. “Because you deserve so much more than what life has given you and I want to fix that.” He rushed to add on, hoping that she would not reject him once more. 

But then, Y/N rocked forward and captured his lips in the best kiss of Sam’s life. 

The world blurred around them as their lips danced together. Sam could taste the beer she had drunk but also something else- something that was just her. His hand fell to her neck making her moan loudly into his mouth as his thumb accidentally brushed against the raised skin of her scent gland.

His knees buckled as her scent suddenly filled through the room, emptying his mind of everything except her. Her nails dug into his back, the kiss quickly became something more. 

“Wait wait wait.” Sam reluctantly ripped himself from her but she wasn’t letting go that easily. She pulled him back into another kiss which he was barely able to pull away from. “Wait babygirl. Are you sure you want to go any further?” His right hand, which she now realised was low on her back, the tips of his fingers brushed against the swell of her ass, pressed her further into his toned stomach. 

Y/N whined trying to chase his lips but a warning growl from Sam had her obediently silent. “I need a clear answer, omega.” He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Please, I want you, all of you.” She managed to get out through the heavy lump of arousal in her throat. Sam smirked, his alpha preening at her desperation and her acceptance that he was hers. Yet he still did not kiss her again. Part of him wished for her to beg, to scream and cry for him after her rejection. 

His thumb pressed down onto her scent gland, immediately making her eyes grow hazy. “Then prove it.” 

Her hands flew to his belt buckle, trembling almost violently as she struggled to open it and gain access to what she was craving. She growled in frustration, ripping the leather apart Y/N was finally able to pull his dark jeans down enough for his cock to spring free, unburdened by any boxers. 

Sam could barely hold back a groan as she moaned loudly at the sight of him. Her eyes flicked to his but quickly returned to the long and thick cock just a hair’s breadth away. The old hardwood groaned with the impact of her knees as she dropped in front of him. “Omega-“ He tried to say but suddenly her mouth was on him. 

A saltiness exploded on her tongue as Y/N licked up his tip, lapping at the pre-cum that was already gathered there. She mewled, eager for more of the alpha in her mouth. Her lips pulled tighter with each inch she swallowed down, her jaw already beginning to ache even though she had barely taken half of him down her throat. 

Sam’s hands balled into fists, his knuckles paling with the force. He watched with bated breath as the omega’s eyes hardened and she forced down even more of his cock. “Babygirl- fuck- slow down.” Now he was the one begging but she refused to listen. 

She pulled back slightly, just enough that the fat head of his cock rested on the back of her tongue and then she pressed forwards again, now able to brush the tip of her nose against the groomed thatch of hair on the base of his pelvis. Sam threw his head back and moaned loudly, his cock already throbbing with the edge of ecstasy. 

“Omega stop.” Her movements ceased but he was still deep down her throat. Her eyes were wide with a questioning gaze, the colour of her irises completely swallowed up by her pupils. The room was thick with their scent, and had he been in the right mind, Sam would wonder if the two men downstairs could smell them. 

Delicately, he cupped her hollowed out cheeks and dragged her from his cock. She whined in protest as she was ripped away from him and Sam couldn’t help but chuckle. “So good for me, so perfect. Can I take care of you now?” He cooed, rubbing his thumbs across the apple of her cheeks. 

Her eyelids fluttered and she nodded enthusiastically. 

She went limp in his arms as Sam pulled her to his feet, letting him guide her soft body back onto the creaky mattress easily. She bounced once, her tits jumping towards her chin with the movement though they were still confined by her bra. 

Sam’s plaid slipped over his head quickly, followed by his undershirt, leaving him completely bare to the omega who was still fully dressed. Her thick thighs pressed together under the weight of his gaze, needing any sort of friction against her core or she felt she would go mad. 

His touch was hot, even through the thick denim of her jeans, as he slowly crawled up the length of her body, absentmindedly kissing the little flashes of skin where her shirt had risen on her stomach, her wrists, her collarbone until he finally reached her lips once more. 

He gripped a plump thigh in one hand, the other holding his huge body above her as they lazily kissed. His hips settled against hers, immediately fanning the flames of desire between the two. She wiggled beneath him, fingers desperately pulling at the buttons of her own flannel, bumping into his hard chest with each unsuccessful attempt. 

Sam let his hand drift from her thigh to the button of her jeans, popping it open with a calm ease that made her omega preen. Long fingers slid into her pants, immediately finding her panties completely soaked through with slick. As soon as his rough fingertips brushed against her covered clit, Y/N threw her head back and howled, her hips canting up to chase his touch.

With her neck now exposed, his lips found their way to her hot skin, nipping and sucking as his fingers pushed her panties to the side. Nails dug into the strong muscles of his back as he gently traced the length of her. “So wet for me. I’ll make you feel so good, omega.” 

Before she could even take a breath, her pants were ripped down her legs along with her panties and discarded across the room. Sam’s eyes were fixated on the apex of her thighs, hungrily licking his lips at the sight of her laid out before him. 

Without any warning, he dove in as if he could no longer stop himself. Pleasure shot up her spine in a way she had never before experienced. Sam nosed at her clit, groaning happily as more slick poured from her. He tried to be gentle at first, to ease his way into her but as soon as she clenched tightly around his tongue, Sam knew that there was no going back, that he would do this every day, multiple times a day if it were up to him, for the rest of their lives.

“Sam!” She cried, her hips bucking from the bed, making the old bed springs scream in protest with the sudden movement. Sam growled into her cunt, the vibrations sending a mind-numbing spark through her body, and grabbed her wide hips to keep her pinned down. Now unable to escape his mouth, Y/N was forced to feel every stroke of his tongue and each flick of his large nose against her clit. It was overwhelming, overpowering and tortuous in all the best ways.

The edges of her mind were beginning to go fuzzy just as small black dots grew in her vision. She grabbed at his hands, their fingers intertwined as she held them to her covered chest, desperate for more of the alpha’s touch like she could never get enough of him. Sam’s head bobbed with each furious thrust of his tongue, lapping up everything she was giving him. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. Her body strung tight with her impending release but still it did not cum.

She lifted her head from the pillows and opened her mouth to beg the alpha to cum but instead, she saw how he was nestled between her thighs, his own body tightly pressed to the bed sheets as his lean hips rolled down. He was humping the bed, furiously so, all because of her taste. 

The omega shattered in his arms, her orgasm washing over her like nothing before. She was silent only for a moment, too washed out in pleasure to make a sound but then, she screamed. Her cum coated his tongue and Sam couldn’t stop his own orgasm from slamming into him- her sounds, her taste, her warmth, it was all too much for him and the alpha spilled himself onto the moth-eaten duvet cover.

“Alpha.” She sobbed, her soft arms reaching out to him. “Wan your knot!” Part of Sam winced at her tears but his alpha was howling in pride at leaving the omega a desperate puddle of lust and need for him. He wrapped her up in a comforting embrace, twisting both their bodies so that she could lay mostly on top of him.

“Shhh omega. You will get it, but not today.” She stiffened in his hold but he was quick to reassure her.

“I want to earn it, your trust and your mark.” He smiled and kissed her softly, cupping her jaw in one massive hand. “Let me work for it, please.”

Her shy smile knocked the breath from his lungs, her eyes shining with the beginnings of love. “Yeah okay.” Sam relaxed back into the bed, deliriously happy as Y/N laid her head on his bare chest, hand over the heart that beat only for her.

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[kaleldobrev]

The 15 Year Problem — Masterlist

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Unnamed Hunter Boyfriend (OC), Joey Baxter (OC) & David Falko (ghost!OC)

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Series Warnings: Cursing, Age Gap (15 years), Minor emotional abuse (nothing intense, it's very, very minor), Self-Loathing Dean, Minor controlling behavior, Sexual tension, Slightly vulnerable Dean, Implied sexual fantasies (very minor), Emotional Bonding, Vulnerable Reader & Misogynistic Comments

Authors Note: A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Chapter List

Prologue | 1.5k

Chapter One: Getting Back into the Swing of Things | 2.2k

Chapter Two: The One Bed, Two People Problem | 1.8k

Chapter Three: You’re Gonna Kill Me Sweetheart | 2.7k

Chapter Four: Aren’t You a Little Young? | 1.8k

Chapter Five: Vampergeist | 2.6k

Chapter Six: Jennifer Love Hewitted | 3.3k

Epilogue | 2k

Extra Content

Moodboard

[solivagant242]

late night drives ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

pairing: dean x childhood friend!reader

warnings: alluded childhood abuse/neglect, blood, mild angst, sickness

this is an entirely self-indulgent drabble since i haven't been able to get the fluff/soft memory/comfort trope out of my head- this is based on an aesthetic that i can't quite name.

comment if you want dean's pov!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

you didn’t know when it had become a tradition, something just for the two of you. maybe it was when you’d both been fourteen, stuck in the middle of nowhere, each with fathers that didn’t want to come home. 

maybe it was when you had begun hunting and taken the impala on the road. when the stress of all the blood and sweat and death started getting to you.

either way. it didn’t matter.

the air is so warm it feels almost like bathwater. that doesn’t stop you from shivering, though, wrapping your arms around yourself. your hair is still wet from the burning shower you’d taken, the shower that had left blood swirling down the drain and the fresh slices and stabs on your skin stinging and twining. 

you’re in the passenger seat, the one where sam normally is. you’re not sure if his towering height is responsible for why the seat feels so huge, too low to the ground, as if his weight has pressed it down.

dean is driving.

you don’t normally look at him during these drives. or even pay attention to him, for that matter; times like these are spent in a wordless appreciation of the other’s silence, each of you battling whatever demons have clawed their way from the depths of your minds this time. 

but this time you do, through half-closed eyelids. 

his face looks more relaxed than it did half an hour ago, jaw soft instead of clenched. the shadows under those green eyes haven’t dissipated, though. 

you doubt they ever will. 

drowsily you rest your head on the side of the impala, the soft turns and pauses at stoplights lulling you into a doze. 

you used to be scared of falling asleep. nightmares would flock behind your eyes, black shards of ice stabbing into your skull and leaving you screaming in the dead of night. before you went on the road with the winchesters, you’d spend hours lying on the slant of your bedroom roof, silent tears trickling coldly into your ears till you couldn’t cry anymore. 

even after you’d formed your own messy little broken family with sam and dean, you’d been scared to fall asleep. you still remember how your mom had left in the dead of night when you were eight. you had heard the door open and close, a tiny little dismissive sound audible through the chirping of the frogs outside. 

she hadn’t ever come back, and you knew you wouldn’t be seeing her again.

the cigarette burns on your hand tingle in relief at the thought.

you don’t know when you became okay with sleeping with the winchesters around. somewhere in between the falling and flying of delirium, of a hunt gone wrong and more medicine than you thought possible pumping through your veins.

dean had stayed up with you for two nights in a row. his calloused fingers had been gentle as they carded through your hair, pushing it back from your sweaty forehead, even when you thrashed around and nearly fell off the bed.

he’d caught you and deposited you back under the covers. 

“it’s okay, sweetheart. sleep. please sleep.”

you had slept soundly ever since then. 

a brighter light blinks across your eyelids and you stir a bit, letting your eyes blur into focus. 

the sky is a rich shade of blue, deepening to midnight at its peak and broadening to pale gold nearer the horizon. a few creamy stars are scattered across its expanse.

stoplights and gas station signs flicker past. more lights- cherry-red, neon green, and bright yellow. 

it’s all a blur, a soft, sleepy blur cloaked in the light hum of the impala. dean shifts and mumbles something that you can’t quite catch, and somehow his voice and the smell of the cheap ivory soap he always uses is soothing.

you close your eyes and drift off into another vaguely remembered dream.

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[book-place]

Where You Lead

Warnings: mentions of fighting, hunting, weapons and violence, drinking, hints of parental abuse and neglect, cursing, injuries and blood, gunshots wounds, mentions of death let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x sister reader, Sam Winchester x sister reader

*not my gif*

Summary: Ever since you first came home from the hospital, you and Dean had an unbreakable bond

A/N: Welcome to book place’s one year event!!

Inspired by: Where You Lead I Will Follow by Carole King

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Loving you the way I do

“This is your baby sister, Y/n,” This might be the first time since his mother was alive that Dean had heard his fathers voice be as soft as it was.

“Can I hold her? Please, can I hold her?” Sam begged, bouncing up and down on his toes in anticipation.

“Dean gets to hold her first, Sam,” John scowled slightly, “We talked about this already.”

The- now middle- Winchester sibling stopped jumping immediately and dropped his head slightly, “Sorry,” He mumbled, kicking his shoe slightly against the motel ground.

As gently as humanly possible, nine year old Dean gingerly held you in his arms, supporting your head the way your father had shown him before gazing at you in wonder.

You tossed and turned a little bit in the hospital blanket that was wrapped securely around you, before you blinked your eyes open slightly.

Instead of screaming and crying like he expected you to do, you just stared up at your older brother in the same amazement that he looked over you with; and that amazement soon melted into full adoration on his features.

“Is it my turn yet?” Sam whined, and John finally relented with a small huff.

The hesitation was visible on Dean's face, looking as if it pained him to pass you over to his little brother, something that escaped both Sam and John’s notice.

What John didn’t miss though, was the way his eldest son lingered near you and Sam, looking ready to spring forward at any moment and save you should Sam accidentally drop you.

“She’s fine, Dean, quit hovering.” John told his son gruffly. But for the first time in his life, the boy didn't snap at attention to scramble and do what his father had said. For the first time, he pretended as if he didn’t hear the man as he continued to stare down at you.

I know we’re gonna make it through

“I’ll be back in a couple days, don’t do anything to draw attention to yourselves.” John warned with a small glare before turning on his heel and exiting the motel room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Dean let out a small breath, glancing over his shoulder to where you sat on Sam’s lap on the crammed couch, both of you engrossed in the cartoon before you.

It had been two years since you were born, and Dean was yet to hear his fathers voice grow soft again, even around you. In fact, John began to try and distance himself from you as much as he could.

He had once confessed to Dean when he was almost black out drunk that it was because he had a child with a woman who wasn’t Mary, and while he and Sam could remind him of his late wife, you did no such thing.

It wasn’t your fault of course, and Dean knew that. He knew that it wasn’t fair for your father to distance himself from you for something you couldn’t control, which would inevitably affect you one way or another eventually.

He walked over to the couch before plopping down onto the small cushion beside the two of you and held out his arms, “Giver ‘er here, Sammy.”

The boy did so, and you giggled slightly at being passed around. You looked up at Dean with a wide smile before turning your attention back to the screen.

A small sigh escaped his lips as he watched over his two siblings, both who were completely oblivious to the fact that John had only left a few cans of food in the room and a very limited amount of money without the certainty of when he would return.

He placed a small kiss on the top of your head. He was going to get you all through this, just like he always did.

And I would go to the ends of the earth

“We asked for a parent or guardian of Y/n Winchester.” The principal raised a single eyebrow as he spoke, eyeing the clearly high school level student.

“I’m her older brother,” Dean grunted with narrowed eyes, “Isn’t that good enough if our father can’t make it?”

The older man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Fine, fine. We should get this started, then.” He then beckoned with his hand for you and one of your classmates to come into his office.

You shuffled in, eyes lighting up when you spotted Dean and you hurriedly squealed, rushing over and jumping into his arms, “Hey, sweetheart.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss in your hair.

“What is this about?” The mother of your classmate demanded, shooting daggers at you and your brother from where she sat in a chair a couple feet away.

“I’m afraid we are going to have to suspend the two of them,” The principal spoke.

A look of bewilderment came over Dean's features, “S-suspend? For what? She’s five!”

“Even so, they both must be held accountable for their actions.”

“Which was what, exactly?” He demanded, grip tightening around you protectively.

“The two of them got into a small fight and disrupted the class.” He informed him and the other mom.

“That’s outrageous!” Said mother shrieked, jumping to her feet, “My daughter would never get into a fight!”

“She hit me, I didn’t do anything,” You mumbled into Dean's ear, and he felt his anger begin to boil in his blood.

“Y/n didn’t do anything,” Dean stated, a venomous glint in his eyes as he stared down the mother and the principal.

“Oh?” The woman screeched, whirling around and pointing a finger at him, “And how did you figure that out?” She hissed.

“Because she told me she didn’t,” He said plainly.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes as if he just said the most idiotic thing she’d ever heard, “And how do you know you can believe her?”

Dean stood up immediately, you still clutched to his chest as he glared right back at the older woman, “Because she isn’t lying.” He told her with a dangerous tinge in his tone before simply turning on his heel and striding out of the office.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and you buried your face in his shirt, “Thanks, De.” You whispered.

'Cause, darling, to me that's what you're worth

“What the hell is this?” John snapped with a glare, picking up a doll that had gently been set on the table.

Dean swallowed, eyes flitting over to your sleeping form on the bed beside him, your chest rising and falling steadily.

You hadn’t meant to, and Dean knew that. You were only eight, you hadn’t meant to wander out the store with the doll in your grip as if it was already yours and not something you had just picked up off the shelf.

He had been too preoccupied to even notice until the two of you got home, and he had sighed as he watched your eyes fill with tears and your bottom lip wobble as you stared up at him after telling you that it would have to be taken back.

Reluctantly, he had given in and decided that it wouldn’t even matter if you brought it back now, so he had said he would let you keep it this one time if you never did it again.

Of course, Dean couldn’t tell his father that, then he would be angry at you. And your older brother always did everything in his power to shield you from that side of John.

“I-I took it, sir.” Your older brother cleared his throat, glancing up at his fathers raging form, “I wanted to get her a toy to have.”

The older man let out a loud scoff, rolling his eyes, “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because sh-she needs toys,” He tried to sound as confident as he could without his voice wavering again. You needed him, he would not give you up like that, “I thought she needed toys.” He was more confident this time.

John dropped the doll carelessly to the ground with a snarl, “Next time,” He seethed, “Next time I catch you pulling any of this shit, there’s gonna be consequences.”

He was talking to Dean as if he weren’t seventeen years old. As if he were still just a child.

But the boy bit his tongue and nodded his head once, visibly relaxing once his father stomped out of the room. He looked back at you and let a small sigh loose, relieved that you hadn’t woken up.

Carefully, he pulled the blankets higher on your body that had slipped down from some tossing and turning.

Where you lead, I will follow

“Dude,” Sam spoke up, glancing away from his homework for a split second to give Dean a look, “She’s fine.”

The man immediately froze, stopped tapping his foot and snapped his head over to his younger brother, “What?”

“Y/n,” The younger boy's head was already facing the textbook again, “She just went out with a couple friends. You can stop stressing out, she's fine.”

Dean hadn’t even realized that he had eagerly been staring out the motel window, awaiting your return with about as much impatience as a toddler.

“I know that,” He shot back defensively, forcing his muscles to relax from his stiff, upright sitting position and relax against the back of the chair.

Sam looked up again, eyebrows raised so high that they disappeared under his hair, “Oh? You’re not staring at the parking lot as if she didn’t just leave five minutes ago?”

“No,” Dean grumbled, sinking down and crossing his arms over his chest.

A sigh left Sam’s lips, “She’s eleven, dude. And she’s just down the road if you need to get to her.”

“Or if she needs to get to me.” He hadn’t even thought as the words slipped through his lips.

There was a pause, “Yeah… yeah, if she needs to get to you, she can easily do it.” He reassured his older brother.

Despite the clear way the words were forced out, Dean still relaxed for real when he heard them, but didn’t move away from the window as he waited for you to return.

Anywhere that you tell me to

You shuffled through the door, head hung low as you dropped your backpack with a small ‘thud’ beside the table. Sam reached out and rubbed your shoulders comfortingly.

Dean looked over his shoulder from where he was preparing dinner, “Hey, sweetheart, hey Sammy-“ He cut himself off when he caught sight of your defeated look and Sam’s pitying one, “What is it?” He immediately rushed out, “What’s wrong?”

You just sniffled slightly and crossed your arms over your chest, kicking at the floor.

“Sam?” He automatically turned his attention to the boy when you didn’t answer, “What’s wrong?” He demanded again.

John had just dropped the two of you off back at the motel after school before rushing off, saying that the hunt was not over even though he thought it had been.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and right as it did so, you took off towards the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind you, leaving your brothers behind.

“Sam.”

“There’s this father-daughter dance going on for her grade,” He sighed, and it clicked into place right away for Dean.

“Dad couldn’t go?” He asked softly.

“He wouldn’t,” Sam corrected him angrily with a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest, “He told her it was a waste of time.”

All at once, a blinding rage boiled up inside of Dean, one of the only times in his entire life that he was anything but scared of his father. For once, he hated the man.

His thoughts snapped back to the present though when he realized that you were still crying in the bathroom, and he immediately reeled his emotions in. You needed him more than he needed to be angry right now.

With a sigh, he crept over and gently knocked on the door after shooting a swift nod of thanks to Sam’s direction, “N/n?” He called softly, “Sweetheart, it’s me. Can I come in?”

There was a moment of silence before the man heard a slight click of a door being unlocked, and he didn’t hesitate to rush in.

Your cheeks were stained with tears and your eyes were bloodshot in a way that made Dean's heart shatter into a million pieces.

“Oh, n/n,” He cooed, sinking onto the ground beside you and pulling you to his chest, rubbing a hand up and down your back comfortingly as you cried into his shirt.

He kept whispering comforting words in your ear until you were reduced to sniffles and hiccups that were an effect of after-sobbing.

“D-dad doesn’t want to go with me,” You choked out, clutching a handful of your brother's shirt tightly.

Dean sighed, unsure of what to tell you. Of whether or not he should lie and tell you that your father really did want to go, he was just busy. But he realized that you were now old enough to see right through that.

“I’ll go with you,” As soon as the thought popped into his mind, he hadn’t even given himself a second to process it before blurting it out loud.

You reeled back and stared up at him with wide eyes, “Wha-“

“I’ll go to the father-daughter dance with you,” He shrugged, “I know I’m not dad, but at least you’ll have someone to go with.”

Slowly, a large grin broke out onto your face and you threw yourself into his arms again, squeezing tightly as you let out an excited squeal, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He laughed, hugging you with the same amount of force, “My pleasure, sweetheart.”

If you need, you need me to be with you

“Y/n?” Dean's eyebrows flew up in shock as the smell of alcohol filled his senses.

“Duh,” You slurred, stumbling slightly to stand upright as you made your way into the motel room, “Who else would I be? Bobby?”

“Are you… drunk?” He had to blink a couple of times to help his brain fully process what he was seeing. You, his baby sister, hardly fifteen years old, drunk out of your mind.

“Noo,” You whined, “God, get off my case.”

“Hey,” He stood up, arm wrapping around your waist automatically as you almost fell over your own feet, “Come on,” Gently, he led you over to sit down on the bed.

With a large sigh of relief, you fell onto your back and cuddled into the sheets, “Thanks, dad.” You mumbled.

Dean's eyes were practically bugging out of his head at this point. He swallowed thickly, “Y-you know I’m not dad, right?”

“Well not biololy-“ You paused with furrowed eyebrows, “Beeolog-“

“Biologically?” He filled in the missing word for you, unsure of where you were trying to go with this as he turned on his heel to get you a glass of water.

You snapped your fingers, pointing a lazy finger at him, “Bingo! You might not be my dad biologically, but you’re more of a father to me than John- John is.” Your head was nuzzling into a pillow by now.

He sputtered, practically dropping the glass before setting it down on the bedside table, “That-that’s not true.” He insisted, “You don’t think that.”

“Sober words are drunk thoughts,” You slurred before opening your eyes and pausing to think, “Wait… that’s not right…”

He sighed, picking up the water and coaxing you to sit up so he could give it to you.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” Dean told you softly, leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead.

Even after you eventually drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t do so himself. Still trying to wrap his mind around what you said. About if you actually believed your own words.

I will follow where you lead

“Dean.” You reached up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m old enough to go on a date.”

He scowled, sinking further into his chair with his arms crossed, “I disagree,” He grumbled.

“Of course you do,” You sighed before turning back to the bathroom mirror and checking your reflection one last time before stepping out.

“Do you have your gun?” He asked automatically. And if it were anyone else, you would have laughed. But this was your eldest brother, and you knew for a fact that he was dead serious.

“I don’t think I need-“

“Do you have your gun?” He demanded again, glowering from across the room.

“Yes, yes, I have my gun.” You reassured him, lifting up your handbag of where it was resting dramatically to further your point.

Silence rang out between the two of you for a moment, having your own mini stare down, before it was his turn to sigh and stand up before striding across the room to you.

He put his hands on each of your shoulders, looking you in the eye, “I just want what’s best for you.” He told you sincerely.

Your hands went up to gently grasp onto his wrists and squeeze, “I know that, De,” You spoke softly, “But you can’t protect me from everything.”

“I can try,” He replied stubbornly, cracking a smile when you snorted.

Taking your hands off of his, you moved your arms to wrap around his torso and pull him into a tight hug.

He was just about to return it when a knock rang through the room. Your date was at the door.

Slowly, you let go and looked up at your big brother with a smile.

If you're out on the road

“Where’s Sammy when you need him?” You groaned, dropping your head into your arms that rested against the table.

“Shut it,” Dean grumbled, “I can help you just as well as he could.”

You rolled your eyes up to the ceiling, “You’ve failed every math class you’ve ever been in, genius.”

“And who told you that?”

“Sam.” You said in a ‘duh’ tone.

Dean scoffed, “Well, Sammy’s a freaking liar.”

You rose your eyebrows and placed your head in your hand, waiting as his eyes raked up and down the paper.

“Well?” You asked after a few moments.

“Well, this is hard.” He snapped back.

You threw your hands up, “That's why I asked for help!”

He seemed to ponder something for a moment before putting the paper down tentatively, “Math was always stupid anyway. I don’t think it would hurt if you didn’t do this one assignment.”

“So, you’re admitting to not knowing how to do this?”

“…no.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“… fine, I failed every math class I’ve ever taken.”

Feeling lonely, and so cold

“You’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be fine.” Dean muttered, not knowing if he was trying to reassure you or himself more as he put so much pressure on the gas that his foot had begun to hurt.

“D-Dean-“ You muttered from the passenger seat, lulling your head to the side to try and face him.

Quickly, he shushed you, doing everything in his power not to focus solely on the crumbled up shirt you were holding against your stomach to try and apply pressure to your wound. He knew if he focused on that for longer than a couple of seconds, he would abandon his mission of getting you straight to a hospital and try to take care of it on his own.

He knew his mind would kick into a protective, frenzy overdrive and he wouldn’t allow himself to wait until he arrived at his destination.

Of course, the one day Sam wasn’t feeling well enough to join the two of you on a hunt- one that was supposed to be so simple that Dean finally- begrudgingly- allowed you to come on, you had gotten shot in the stomach.

As soon as that had happened, everything about the hunt immediately flew as far from Deans mind as humanly possible, even letting the shooter get away in his panicked state as his brain switched to autopilot mode and he scooped you up and rushed you to the car.

Nothing was going to happen to you. Nothing was going to happen to you. Nothing was going to happen to you. Nothing was-

A violent cough raked through your body, making your older brother visibly flinch as he pressed down harder on the pedal, even if he was already going as fast as he could.

“You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart,” He muttered, harshly blinking away the tears that began to pool in his eye ducts.

All you have to do is call my name

“Dean?” You whispered into the darkness hesitantly.

“Wh-What? What’s wrong?” His eyes immediately snapped open and he flew out of the bed at your nervous tone.

He gently took ahold of each of your shoulders and blinked the sleep away from his eyes as they scanned your face through the darkness for any sign of distress.

“I-I had a nightmare…” You muttered weakly, feeling heat begin to spread to your cheeks as you averted your eyes from your elder brother.

“Oh,” He breathed out, relaxing only slightly when he realized that you were in no immediate danger, “Oh, it’s okay, sweetheart.” He quickly wrapped his arms around you and brought you to his chest.

Your own arms snaked around him in return, burying your face in his chest and allowing him to rock both of you back and forth slightly as he rubbed your back soothingly.

“Can I stay?” You whispered meekly, refusing to look him in the eyes from the sheer embarrassment of it all.

“Of course,” He answered without hesitation, keeping an arm wrapped around you as he gently led you to the bed.

As soon as you were both lying down and under the sheets, you cuddled into your older brothers chest and let out a little sigh of content, “Thank you, De.” You whispered sleepily.

“I have nightmares all the time too,” He whispered after a few moments of silence, “They got worse after you almost died on that hunt.”

You felt his arms tighten around you as he spoke, and you held on just as tight in return.

“We’re okay,” He spoke comfortingly, kissing the top of your head again, “We’re okay.”

And I'll be there on the next train

“I-I need help,” You spoke shakily into the phone, wrapping your free arm tighter around yourself as you spoke.

“Alright, I’m on my way.” Came Dean's determined reply.

No, ‘I told you so’. No, ‘You made this mess, you can get out of it yourself’. No, ‘You shouldn’t have gone in the first place’. Just your selfless, loving brother who was willing to drop everything he was doing because you had made a mistake. Because you had insisted that you could finally go on a solo hunt despite his protests and pleas. Because he had been so scared of a repeat from the last time he had allowed you to go on a hunt. And even that time you were with him, this time you wouldn’t be.

And now you were in over your head and you needed your older brother to bail you out.

“Dean?” You sniffled slightly into your phone, “I’m sorry.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He spoke soothingly.

In the background, you hear the car start as if he had just been sitting in it waiting for your call.

You wouldn’t be surprised. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mad at him.

Where you lead, I will follow

“Sam’s gonna kill us ya’know.” You spoke, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into your mouth.

“What Sammy doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Dean replied calmly, leaning back against the couch cushions, eyes trained solely on the Scooby-Doo episode.

“We’re supposed to be researching lore about the case,” Even though you said it, you made no effort to turn off the television and go back to work.

“You and I both know that he’ll do all of it anyway,” He reminded you, “Might as well enjoy our time instead of wasting it.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips as you softly shook your head back and forth, folding your legs underneath you and entertaining your brother by watching his favorite show with him.

Anywhere that you tell me to

“How do you mess up making toast?” You yelled over the fire alarm.

“I don’t know! Okay? I don’t know!” Dean's voice boomed back as he wildly jumped around with a towel while trying to fan the smoke out of the room.

Despite his protests, the alarms screeching didn't come to the halt you had hoped for. If anything, it seemed to get even louder.

“I leave you alone for five minutes and this is what happens!” You scolded, “I swear, I feel like I’m the older one sometimes.”

“Just shut it and help me!” He snapped.

You sighed irritatedly, but grabbed a towel anyway and joined in on his efforts of stopping an almost inevitable fire.

It took a while- and a lot more screaming matches- before the alarm finally died down and the only thing that remained from the fire was the ringing in your ears, the faint smell of smoke, and a burnt beyond recognition piece of toast.

“Let’s… let’s not speak of this ever again.” Dean finally huffed out after catching his breath.

A wicked smile made its way onto your face at his words, “In your dreams,” You told him sinisterly.

His face dropped and he looked at you in horror, “Don’t you dare-“

“Oh, Sam,” You sang, practically dancing out of the room.

“Get back here!” The sound of thundering feet coming bounding after you made you squeal and pick up your pace.

If you need, you need me to be with you

“Y/n?” You ferociously wiped away the tears that stained your cheeks when you door was knocked on, “Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, Dean.” You silently cursed yourself for the small crack in your voice as you spoke. Though you doubted it would even need to be there for your brother to know that something was wrong.

“I’m coming in,” He announced, waiting only a split second to see if you would protest before opening your door and immediately scanning his eyes over you to see what was the matter.

“Hey, hey,” He murmured gently, dropping down in front of where you sat on your bed once he realized you didn’t appear to be in any physical pain, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head when you were unable to speak, averting your eyes from his wide, concerned ones.

“Talk to me,” He pleaded softly. He hated when something was the matter that he didn’t know about, it absolutely killed him.

“It’s just-“ You choked out a small sob, “Why?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he unconsciously swiped a piece of hair from your face, “Why, what, sweetheart?”

Again, you shook your head, “I’m being so stupid-“

“Hey,” He gently grabbed your chin and made you look at him, “Anything making you upset is not stupid. Now what’s wrong?”

“Why can’t we just have a normal life?” His heart dropped, “Why did dad have to drag us into this? We’ve lost so many people because of what we do and I just don’t know if I can take it anymore-“

“Hey, hey,” He shushed you softly, immediately wrapping his arms around you, “Shh, it’s okay, I know. Believe me, sweetheart, I know. It’s not fair. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Dean.” You sniffled, pulling away and wiping your face with your sleeve.

“Still,” Tears began to form in his own eyes and he was forced to harshly blink them away, “I wish more than anything that you could have been spared from this. And I am so damn sorry that you weren’t.”

“I don’t want this for you either, Dean.” You told him softly.

He smiled sadly, “I know, sweetheart, I know. But at least we have each other.”

You were finally able to smile slightly at that, “Yeah, we do. Don’t we?”

I will follow

Humming lightly to yourself, you put the finishing touches on the dish before you and stepped back with your hands on your hips, proudly smiling down at it.

“N/n!” Dean's voice echoed through the halls, “I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!” You echoed back, excitedly jumping to hide the plate behind your back just in time for him to enter.

He entered with a wide smile, “Hey, sweetheart, what’s-“ He froze and eyed you suspiciously, “What are you up to?”

Unable to even attempt to hide your eagerness anymore, you leapt to the side and dramatically put your arms out to the side, “Ta da!” You guestered to the plate you had previously been hiding.

A wide grin automatically broke out onto his face as he came scurrying over to the counter with childlike excitement, “Pie?” He practically squealed, “You made me pie?”

You nodded proudly, putting your hands on your hips.

He rushed over and scooped you in a long hug, spinning you around in a way that made you giggle, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” He gushed while gently setting you down, “Have I ever told you that you’re the best sister ever?” He was already taking a fork and shoveling some of it into his mouth.

“I could do with hearing it more often.” You teased.

“You’re the best sister ever!” He cheered, devouring the dessert happily.

Where you lead

The steady rocking of the car did nothing to help your tired state, nor did the music softly drifting out of the speakers and filling the small space effortlessly.

Dean's eyes flitted over to you for a quick second, “You can go to sleep, it’ll be a couple more hours until we get there.” He told you softly.

You shook your head stubbornly despite the yawn you had to bite back, “I wanna stay up with you,” You murmured, unconsciously cuddling up against the seat.

“We had a long day, just get some rest.” He insisted in the same gentle tone.

Finally, you weren’t able to hold back your exhaustion any longer and you practically melted into the cushions, “Fine,” You mumbled, “But only for a few minutes.”

He laughed lightly, reaching over with one hand and ruffling your hair playfully, “Sleep well, sleepyhead.” He teased.

“I love you, De,” You whispered, eyes already drifting shut and your head lulling to rest against the window.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Idjits 👟- @ineedmorefanfics2 @roseblue373 @popfishjr @kiyomi-uchiha777

[percywinchester27]

The new Mrs. Winchester (19)

Word count: 4.5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Chapter warnings: Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, PTSD, angst, flesh trade, language, mention of violence; reader discretion is strongly advised.

Series Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?

A/N: A huge shoutout to all my wonderful readers! Your support and love keeps me going! <3

Beta: My darling, @deanssweetheart23

“You can’t kick 'em in the nuts and make a run for it?” The girl in the next cell asked.

“Not if you want to avoid getting beaten into a pulp,” you told her through a mouthful of bread and tomato. “There’s always a guard outside the door.”

“Kick 'em in the nuts, too.”

You snorted so hard, bits of tomato landed on the floor.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “There are fancy rooms upstairs with wardrobes full of fancy clothes that you have to wear and then they take you to other fancy places for men–”

“Sometimes it’s just the fancy rooms overhead. Men come here, too.”

“But they take you out, don’t they?” She argued. “Just go to a reception and tell the hostess, a waitress, anyone. I know you managed to run away once… so why not try again? If they let you out, it can’t be that hard!”

You swallowed the bite in your mouth and sighed. What did it matter if you told her the truth? Neither of you would make it out anyway. 

“They’ve kidnapped my half-brother and half-sister. Little kids, barely six… have them at gunpoint somewhere. I make one wrong move and they are dead.”

“Shit.”

You could picture her dumbstruck expression. After spending a week next to her, seeing her face while going in and out, you were starting to get a hang of her. You still didn’t know why you did it, take her turn every night. Eventually, they would drag her out, but for a week, the boss wasn’t in the building and no one seemed to push the inevitable and drag that girl’s stubborn ass out. 

And boy was she stubborn. She bit and clawed like a wild cat at the guards who tried to drag her. She got plenty beat up in the process, but everyone seemed to wait for the boss to get her in line when he came. 

“Don’t you worry,” she said. “My fiance is going to get us out.”

“Fiance?”

“Yeah. I bet he’s worried out of his mind right now. But there’s police. They’ll find us.”

“The police are in on this,” you said. “They get serviced for their quiet.”

She spat, then screamed in frustration.

Footsteps echoed off the walls, and blood froze in your veins. You recognised the hard tap and unforgiving rhythm of his steps. The boss.

“Go to your bed and pretend to sleep,” you hissed, discarding the sandwich in your hand and doing the same. 

“W-what?”

“Just do it.”

Covering yourself entirely with the blanket, you rolled into a ball, as if that would make you invisible, teleport you out of the horror story you were about witness. Since staring at the glass wall in his cabin for the first time, you had prayed for yourself. The pastor in the church your aunt dragged you to every Sunday preached that one should only pray for the world and not for oneself… because praying for oneself was selfish. If you prayed only for the world, that made you a good person, and God helped good people without having to ask for it.

You had never been particularly religious, but that one thing had stuck around. Subconsciously, all your life, you had never asked for yourself, not from God, the universe or even as a favour from people. If you wanted something, you had worked hard to earn it, and achieve it by sheer will and not divine intervention.

But that first night with the boss had made you pray for yourself over and over.

And you prayed now, in whispers that only remained in your breath, never making a sound. 

God, let him forget that I exist… Not tonight. Please please please.

The footsteps came to a halt, and the door next to yours opened.

You closed your eyes tighter. Oh, that poor girl. He had come for her at last.

“I hear you’ve been difficult.”

A spit.

“Michael,” he said in his cold, raspy voice. “Hand me my cane, now.”

“Yes, Boss,” said Michael, gleefully.

A slash in the air and a piercing scream sliced the air.

You shut your ears tightly as the scuffling began… but then it ended as suddenly as it had started when a loud, sickening crunch which sounded so close to the shared wall that you were certain it had happened against it.

A minute passed.

“Oh, what a terrible waste,” the boss sighed at last, almost delicately. “Remove it.”

The taps receded and then soon they carried her body by your cell, blood trailing behind her.

You sat up bolt in your bed, unable to keep the bile down as you emptied your stomach on the carpet next to the bed. Sam’s side of the carpet.

You plopped back on the bed, breathing heavily. 

“Just a dream,” you told yourself. “Just a dream.” Then, the reality came crashing down on you and you wanted to throw up all over again.

Abby’s quiet knock from the main door wrenched you out of bed and through the seating area. She didn’t have to see the vomit. Her face was pinched when you opened the door for her. She entered trepidly and placed the breakfast tray on the table. 

“Who’s in the house?” You asked

“Just us,” she said. “Mr Dean Winchester left last night itself.”

“And S-Sam? He’s out for his run?”

“Mr Winchester left for work.”

“It’s only 7.”

She gave you an apprehensive look, as if she wanted to say something but was scared of how you would perceive it.

“What is it, Abby?”

“Miss, he’s in a right state, that man. Before you came, he used to be so dry and detached… but this past month, since you first locked yourself in your room, he’s gone from pillar to post for you. Sleep, food, everything be damned. The only thing he has done is worry.” Her hand fluttered nervously to her side. “He stumbled down the steps this morning from exhaustion and still went for his run anyway. I think he needs to see a doctor.”

Abby didn’t know what had conspired last night.

“I don’t know the deal with his brother being back now,” she said, wrangling the corner of her apron. “But everyone knows they don’t get along. It can’t be good for him.”

Sam had looked exhausted last evening. The dark circles under his eyes, the once-fitted shirt that hung loose on his shoulders, and the ever-present frown on his forehead had become more and more etched now. 

“Abby, tell me when Sam is back, will you?”

You sent her away and cleaned up your mess in the bedroom. A hot shower further cleared your head. Taking stock of your time in the Winchester Mansion made you recount the number of times you had run out on Sam, locked yourself in the room, the number of secrets you had kept. So, he’d had his own secrets. You knew that. 

Then there was the fact that Sam had never explicitly said he hated his brother. In fact, he’d never spoken of him without pain mingled with love. His exact words- “We had a fight and I couldn’t see his face after that.” Couldn’t…. Not ‘Didn’t want.’ Nowhere had his words implied that Sam’s consent was considered.

The day appeared stormy, with an overcast sky. Maybe the light of the lantern would carry, perhaps it wouldn’t. You set it on the sill anyway.

Dean found you at the pier an hour later, when you had nearly given up hope. He stood at his usual spot but did not sit beside you and you noticed he was dressed differently; no jacket today, just a black T-shirt and jeans.

Slowly, you tilted your face upwards to meet his sharp green eyes. How often had you wondered what Dean Winchester would be like? Bitter? Angry? But Han wasn’t any of those things.

“Get up!” He ordered, without an ounce of remorse. You got to your feet.

“This way,” he pointed and began to walk towards the jungle without a preamble.

A frisson of annoyance ran through you. Where was his abashedness?

“Sam didn’t know,” he said briskly. “That you knew me. That we knew each other. That poor bastard had no damn clue.”

“You want me to believe you’ve been hiding out in these woods without Sam knowing?”

“Yes.” He came to an abrupt stop and you realised Dean was dead serious. “That kid’s as straight-jacketed as they come. Keeping up the charade nearly did a number on his head, and then you came into the picture. Sam’s nearly lost his goddamned mind over you.”

“He told you that?”

Dean sighed in exasperation. “Haven’t you been listening to a single word? I haven’t seen Sam in months, not since the fight. But he’s my only family left. I had to keep an eye on the kid.”

The trees were too damn thick for any sunlight to trickle down. Dean started walking again and you followed.

“What was the fight about, then?” You pressed, refusing to believe.

“You,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Two years before I came into the picture? Yeah, right.”

Dean tilted his head, weighing his words. “About the idea of you, I guess.”

“Wow, that clears it all up, doesn’t it?” You laughed sarcastically.

He stayed quiet for so long that you actually paid attention to your surroundings, finding the trail vaguely familiar in the thick trees.

“We were to be married in eight weeks,” he said, voice deep and achingly sad. “She’d come to drop off pie for me. Sam says he insisted on dropping her back, but I knew my Jo. She was stubborn that one. If she wanted to drive herself, nothing Sam said would’ve changed her mind. Nothing. Ellen called three hours later asking for her. We searched all night long, all through the woods, all the way two towns over. Nothing. Sniffer dogs couldn’t catch a trail. The police found her car two days later in New Mexico… and her body two weeks later face down in the lake.”

You wanted to reach out, say something… anything, but words failed.

“She hadn’t drowned, Y/N. She’d already been dead when they threw her in there. Post-mortem said haemorrhage… blunt force trauma to the back of her head, ligature marks, bruises…” He closed his eyes unable to continue. 

You knew bits and parts of what followed– Dean’s self-destructive tendency and Sam’s unwavering support. The latter won.

“Sam still thinks he’s to blame. That he should have somehow foreseen it. I know Ellen doesn’t disagree with him or shy away from throwing it in his face.” A mirthless scoff.

“I think the bigger part of her anger is because of what Sam did to you… and me.” You said. “Or rather, what she thinks he did to you and me.”

Dean sighed. “I owe Sam a lot more than my life, a sorry and a thank you. This whole plan hinges on his resilience.”

“What plan?”

He ran a hand through his hair, but his pace slowed down. “The detective working this case, Jody Mills… she’s suspected a human trafficking ring here for years. Every few years someone goes missing or a body mysteriously appears. But this thing has its claws in so deep that we can’t trust the entire PD.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

He glanced at you briefly, and you saw the ever-present kindness there. “You’re smart. I’m sure you’ve figured out a bunch of this yourself.”

Nodding to yourself, you thought out loud. “Sam wasn’t keeping me around for sex, didn’t want to hang me as bait for kidnapping, so obviously he wants information about where I was but…” You vividly remembered the night when he’d held your bloody hand and then all but shushed your barrage when you had tried to spill it all in a haze. “He stopped me from telling him… He didn’t want to hear any of it.”

Dean chuckled. A sudden light sound in the pressing quiet. “And I just called you smart.”

“What?”

“For all your God-forsaken angst over loving Sam… Have you not considered him liking you back?” Dean narrowed his eyes as if he was judging your intelligence. “Obviously it’s hard for him to listen to what you’ve been through. Hell, I’ve choked back on what little you’ve told me. Why are you being so thick?”

Tears sprang in your eyes. 

He placed a gentle hand against your cheek. 

“Give yourself some credit, Y/N. As stupid as you’re being right now, how can you question your own judgement of Sam so easily? You took your time forming your opinion, didn’t you? So consider all proof objectively. He was on board with the plan from day one knowing it would wreck his reputation if I disappeared after transferring my inheritance to him, knowing he’d have to make himself a villain… all for Jo. The kid didn’t bat an eye before agreeing. What led to the fight was the very last step of the plan. After infiltrating the system, he’d have to be one of them and well…”

“Buy a girl,” you finished.

“Yes,” said Dean. The word hung heavy in the air. “Sam refused to do it at first, but it was the only way. It’s killed him since day one, Y/N. And yesterday when you said he’s no better than any of those men who hurt you…”

The tears now freely flowed down your cheek and right into Dean’s palm. He slowly directed your face into his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around you.

“Oh, what have I done?” You whispered into his jacket. 

Sam had banged hard on your door last night and you never gave him a chance to explain. Not a single word. If you truly loved him, how come the trust was broken this easily? And when you refused to speak, he’d respected your consent then, too.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” you said. “I should’ve trusted him, trusted you. After all, you never coaxed anything from me. I–”

A thousand memories ran through your mind: Sam’s fingers holding up your corset, touching his hand for the first time in the entrance hall before, his laugh after the false escape from dinner. Sam handing you a portfolio, Sam showing you around the old guesthouse, his fingers slipping on your wet shirt in the barn, laughing with him on the floor of your bedroom, his voice as he read out poetry… and his lips when they met yours.

“Sam took to playing chess in high school,” said Dean as you moved back. “I don’t think he ever got too good at it, but he used to come back rambling about all these moves, the King's Gambit, the Scandanavian, the Sicilian. He didn’t have anyone to play against, so I learned the basics to humour him and we played every night before bed.”

He’d started walking again and you kept pace this time.

“So there we are one night, recreating some classic game from half a century ago and I played a different piece and well, what do you know, my king ended up in a position from where he couldn’t move. Thought I’d lost because that was the only square my King was safe in. But then Sam said that’s not what it was. I couldn’t be forced to move my King to a checked square, but it wasn’t currently checked. A stalemate is what it was. That’s where we are at, Y/N.”

“A stalemate?”

“Yes. We know pieces of information, but not the ones that actually matter. It’s our move next, but every square is checked, Y/N. We need to know.”

The dim lights of the dungeon came back to you and oddly the crack of the skull. “The operation is not local, definitely crosses state lines. The building where they kept me is somewhere along New Mexico's border. It’s a huge glass building, seven stories high. I don’t know exactly where but from the se…” you gulped. “From the seventh floor, I could see a tall red tower with blinking lights. They blinked all the time… like passing seconds… but slower than s- seconds. The boss sits on the seventh floor.”

“The boss?”

“I-I don’t know his name. No one does. They only call him ‘the boss.”

“This is good, Y/N,” Dean said eagerly. “What does he look like? How does he find these girls? How does he keep them?”

“He… He looks like any other white man, in his 50’s, maybe early 60’s but his eyes, he has the coldest gray eyes and his laugh...” You stopped, collecting your thoughts. “You already know how he gets the girls. Men as scouts, pretending to be friends or lovers, finding vulnerable girls with little in the way of family. Me… Rosalie. About keeping them, there are two ways. One is standard, get them hooked to heroin. Once you have that, they’ll do anything to get the next fix. But those girls don’t make much money, yeah? They aren’t polished. I was the second kind, for the richer clientele that don’t like the smell of drugs and want the girls alive and kicking. For them, guess, it’s easier to blackmail by holding a loved one hostage. Rosalie only had a mother and I only had Jamie and Danny.”

You told him about how your siblings were held hostage somewhere, and how you stayed in line just to protect them.

“There’s very little we wouldn’t do to protect them, wouldn’t we?”

Dean nodded, then came to a halt and you noticed with some surprise that you were standing in front of the wishing well. 

His fingers grazed the parapet's tally marks, and you voiced a long-lost curiosity. “Why do you have one extra?”

“That dumbass brought you here, didn’t he?” Dean snorted. “So much for our secret place.” But he didn’t seem to hold any grudge over it. “Dad brought me here right before Sam was born. Told me this was a magic well, so I needed to make a wish about what I wanted… a sister or a brother.”

“What did you ask for?”

“You see the extra mark there, don’t you?” He winked. “After the fire, I used to run out a lot, trying to find the well again. Wish my dead parents back, you know? Finally found it when I was twelve and Sam was eight. ”

“Seems like you’ve kept pace since with the tallys.”

Dean winked as if there was a secret to it, but didn’t share it with you.

“Come on, make a wish then,” he said.

“One is already due. I don’t want to burden the well.” You sighed. “Look, Dean. I’ll help you with whatever you want. I can draw plans of the building, and the street layout I could see from the seventh floor. Tell you the number of guards, the shifts, even the names of some of the clients, but I need you to promise me that nothing will happen to my brother and sister.”

“I promise.” 

The walk back should have seemed like an interrogation, except Dean held your hand as you described more of the place, the people, the process… the boss.

“I told you already, I don’t know his name,” you burst out when he questioned a third time. 

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Did he… Did he hurt you? This boss?”

You laughed. One short, shaky laugh. “He had a wall full of these instruments… silver, gleaming and so cold.” Then there was the glass wall.

“Oh, that son of a bitch.”

“I wonder why you think Jo was involved in this,” you said, more to change the subject that anything else. “I mean she didn’t exactly fit the pattern.” Full family, doting boyfriend, well-to-do. Blitz kidnapping didn’t seem likely. The boss had to have had something on her.

“No, she didn’t fit the pattern and for a long time, we didn’t suspect her to have been in this.”

“How come?”

Dean’s voice reduced to barely above a whisper. “No obvious signs of… sexual assault in the postmortem report.” And despite the tragedy of it, Dean almost sounded relieved. He pulled out an old wallet from his back pocket and gazed at a picture inside lovingly. “I don’t know, Y/N, it makes me feel like an asshole but knowing that maybe she might have escaped the worst of it… God, I think it kept me from throwing myself off a damn cliff.”

“Oh, Dean!” You closed the distance in-between to hug him. “I bet she–” you gasped. The wallet hung loosely in his grasp and you glimpsed the picture behind the plastic. 

You grabbed the wallet and held it up. “That… That’s Jo? Your Jo?”

He took you by your shoulders. “You knew her?”

“Oh my God!” All the hurt and anger and fear came crashing down on you as you collapsed to the green earth of the side lawn. Over the years she had gone from being the girl in the next cell, to the girl with brown eyes, to the girl in your nightmares and eventually… the only thing you were proud of.

“She’s… she used to be the girl in the next cell. I knew her.”

“Who did this to her?” Dean asked, voice so sharp, it didn’t even sound his.

“The Boss did,” you whispered. “I think it might have been an accident. I only heard the scuffle and then the crack of her skull. It was quick. She didn’t suffer much.”

There was a sharp intake of breath over you and you didn’t dare look up.

“Dean, you should know, the girls there… eventually choose to stay there. I know I did. Once you stop with the kicking and screaming, it gets a little easier. The bad days are lesser and most clients don’t treat you like complete trash. There’s food on your plate at night and poor orphan girls have a bed to sleep in when they comply… they…. we stop fighting. Because there is no relief to fight for, no home to go to and no one who could protect us. But your Jo, she never stopped. I bet she took a few teeth out of that one guard, too.”

“Did they… did anyone ever…?” He could not spit the entire sentence out and you saw the courage it took to finally confront that question.

You looked straight in his tear-stained tortured eyes. “No one hurt her that way. I… I took her turns for the week she was there. I still don’t know why I did it. I’m not a charitable person, and it was hell that week, but something about her faith in her fiance reminded me of, well, me… before I found out how I got there. I wanted to protect her faith just a little longer. So, no Dean, no one touched her that way. And you should also know, she died like she lived, fighting and believing in your love for her.”

Dean hugged you and broke down. “Thank you… Thank you for doing that for my Jo,” he blubbered. “You’re… You’re like an angel. Sam said that you know… yesterday he said that he thought you were some kind of an angel when he first saw you dressed in white. Wasn’t wrong.”

And you broke down with Dean. The night had descended upon you, as you both held each other in the darkness and just cried. 

Much later, locked in the dining room, you drew the floor plans of the building from your memory, a map of the road and the way to the bus stop that you could remember, the names of the guards, physical descriptions, names of the girls, anything and everything you could think of. The maids all gave you curious looks. Getting along with a brother-in-law would be normal for most families, but an estranged brother-in-law who you had never supposedly met? Knowing the history they knew, that had to look shady.

As it turned out, Dean had been alternating between living in the Guest house in Sam’s room and a cabin further north that not many people knew of in the estate. He knew ways to sneak in and out better than almost anyone. Hired security was never too big a problem for him. He was to set out first thing tomorrow morning to see how he could use your intel.

“You know my roommate Carmen,” you said at the door when he was about to leave. “She might have been the only one to care for me back then. I fought with her the night before. If you can do one thing for me, find her and tell her she was right and I am so very sorry.”

“Of course.” Dean stepped up and kissed your forehead. “And Y/N, I’m going to get that bastard. Not just for what he did to Jo, but also for what he did to you. You said you didn’t fight after a while because you didn’t have a home, a family. Now you do. Remember that.”

You watched Dean head out. He would be gone before you woke up tomorrow, but you felt lighter than you had in years, like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. Upstairs, you found Abby in her room.

She stood up the moment she saw you. “Miss, is everything alright?”

“Yes, Abby. I was wondering if you knew when Sam would be back?”

“He was home earlier this evening but didn’t stay long. I believe he left for Colorado.”

Hurt. “Did he say anything about when he would return?”

“No, Miss.”

“Did he ask about me?”

“No, Miss.”

“Did he say anything at all?”

The pitying shake of her head was enough for you to turn around and return to your room. What if you had hurt Sam beyond fixing this time? Abby had been correct, he looked fragile, not just physically, but something about the fragmented look in his eyes, as if one blow could shatter him. What if your hurtful words and vitriolic accusation finally pushed him to the edge? How much bullshit could one man take after all?

You had stepped into this house thinking you would be used, and it was the most horrid feeling in the world. What if Sam thought the same now? That you had used him… used his home, his wealth, and his empathy. Hell, you had used his body, too! 

No, you didn’t pray for yourself much. But in that moment you did- God, please give me one chance to apologise. Please.

*****************************

A/N 2: So turns out I was tagging all wrong :/ Ana is feeling sad about that. Hopefully, it will work this time.

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[wandering-winchesters]

Who Did This To You?

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 4,077 (Oops) Summary: Sam and the reader are close friends, Dean on the other hand is kept at a distance. The reader has a boyfriend, who turns out to be abusive. What will happen when Dean finds out? Trigger Warnings: Mentions of domestic violence, bruises and brief mention of blood. Requested: No, just something I thought up. A/N: I am really happy with how this turned out, please let me know what you think. <3

Masterlist

I press the accelerator down further, hot tears brimming in my eyes, frantic to get back to the bunker. Back to safety and Sam. I need to talk to Sam, he always knows how to calm me down. My boyfriend, Chris and I had fought tonight and it had been bad, he had gotten in my face and screamed at me over the smallest thing. I put up with it for almost an hour, before I got up and left. What had started out as utter rage had slowly turned to gut wrenching sobs throughout the long drive home. I pull into the driveway for the bunker, parking next to the Impala and quickly making the walk from the car to the door. I unlock it quickly slipping inside, I kick my boots off at the front door and head to the kitchen hoping to find Sam. Much to my dismay, the face looking back at me is indeed not Sam, but the other Winchester, Dean. He looks up at me, his eyes searching my face and his brows drawing together when he notices my expression and the tears on my cheeks. I sniff, quickly wiping them away but it’s too late, he’s already seen them. 

“Where’s Sam?” I ask, drawing on every ounce of strength within in me to keep my wits about me for a few more minutes. Dean takes his time to answer, taking a sip from the beer he is holding as he studies me carefully. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, waiting anxiously for his reply. 

“He went out for a bit, said he needed to get out of the bunker. Can’t say I blame him.” He says, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth momentarily before taking another sip of his beer. I give Dean a short nod and mutter a thanks before turning on my heel, intent upon heading straight to my room but his voice stops me once again. 

“You’ve been crying.” He states, matter-of-factly. I freeze in my tracks, weighing my next options carefully. Why does he care? He’s seen me cry before and it hasn’t exactly made him kinder to me. I square my shoulders and turn around to face him once again, his eyes still locked on me. He looks as if he is carefully analyzing my every move, every breath I take and every word that I speak. He’s leaning against the counter top, one leg bent resting on the cabinet behind him. His arms crossed across his chest, supporting the hand that’s holding his beer. 

“Why do you care?” I ask, my voice a bit more volatile than I initially intended. I am too tired to put effort into being nice to him, a sentiment that he rarely ever gives to me. He is slightly taken aback by my words, a fact made obvious by the way he holds his hands up to the side, shrugging his shoulders slightly. 

“Just thought you might want to talk about it, since Sam isn’t here.” He replies, his tone soft and gentle, something I’d never received from him before. It wasn’t like we were enemies or anything, but he didn’t particularly care for me and I shared the same sentiment about him. We butted heads over everything, he always tried to hold me back on hunts, making me feel incapable and inferior. 

“Ill be fine.” I mutter, moving to walk away once again, and once again he stops me his words cutting through me like a silver knife. 

“Did he hurt you?” He asks, his voice unreadable, but his face screams danger, depending on my answer. I look at him, my eyes searching his face for any explanation of where this was coming from, but he’s impassive other than anger. I don’t trust my voice, so I shake my head no. It wasn’t exactly a lie, he hadn’t physically hurt me, he didn’t need to his verbal threats were enough. 

“I’m just going to go to bed. Thanks anyways.” I say and he nods slightly but he’s not fooled. I turn and actually walk away this time and make it to my room before my tears start to fall again. I sit down on the edge of my bed pulling my phone out of my pocket, intending to send Sam a text, but I am distracted by the multiple messages flooding the screen. Beginning with anger and threats, before changing to apologies and begging for my forgiveness. I toss my phone onto the floor, too tired to deal with the nonsense tonight. The interaction with Dean replays in my head, his kindness strange and cause for reflection. It isn’t as if he was ever a complete asshole to me, but he was never fond of me. I had always been Sam’s friend and Dean just put up with my presence. Neither one of them ever intended for me to start hunting with them, it was a matter of wrong place wrong time. Sam and I had met in college and I went looking for him when he disappeared from classes, the week I found him happened to be when the yellow eyed demon came calling a few years ago, and I had stuck with them ever since. Intent upon learning everything I could about the supernatural. Sam had welcomed me in with open arms and Dean had been dragged along kicking and screaming, metaphorically speaking. Well, mostly metaphorically, he did a lot of yelling. So the concern Dean had for me tonight, was well concerning. It was throwing me for a bit of a loop, curiosity sparking within me. Did he actually care about me and his disdain for me was just a front? No, surely not. I had been with them for three years and this was an utter first. I brush the thoughts aside and close my eyes, hoping that sleep will over take me. Hours later, it finally does. 

I wake to knocking on my door, I yell out a muffled come in, and Sam sticks his head in, his expression apologetic. 

“Hey sorry to wake you, I am about to head out but I wanted to check in on you before I do. Dean said you were upset and looking for me last night, you could’ve called me Y/N, I would have come back earlier.” I had sat up in bed to look at him and he had opened my door the rest of the way. I smiled softly at the tall man standing in front of me, his hair messy and the collar on his flannel offset. 

“Its okay Sammy, you have a good night out?” I ask and he grins sheepishly, nodding his head in response. 

“Yeah, actually, I met a girl at the bar. I am heading back to her place now actually. You doing okay?” He asks me, his smile contagious. I chuckle, shaking my head slightly, but smile back at him. 

“Yeah I am good, go get ‘em tiger.” He laughs at my response, and jogs off down the hallway yelling a see you later over his shoulder. He had forgotten to shut my door behind him, I sigh throwing my blankets to the side and standing up beside my bed. 

I stretch my body, groaning slightly as the tension in my shoulders works it way out. I throw on the jeans I had worn yesterday, before finding a new shirt to wear, I settle on my favorite green tee, a memento from my college years. I pick my phone up from the floor, scanning the mass of texts and calls all from one person. Before sending him a quick message,

8:33 A.M.  I’ll be over shortly, I just woke up. 

I take a deep breath and grab my keys from my dresser and head towards the entry to the bunker. Dean is in the kitchen again, this time making himself breakfast. He gives me a slight smile as I walk past him towards the door. I smile back but keep on my path to my boots, still left haphazardly by the door where I had tossed them last night. “Need breakfast?” Dean calls from the behind me, I look back over my shoulder and see him standing in the doorway to the kitchen, skillet in one hand, towel in the other.

“Not hungry, thanks though. I’ll be back later!” I say, beginning to head out the door to the bunker. I hear him call out something along the lines of ‘be careful’ but I don’t stop to question it, our interaction from last night still weirding me out. 

In hindsight, I should’ve gone back inside this morning. Had breakfast with Dean and ignored Chris’ frenzy of messages. Going over his place this morning was probably the worst idea I have ever had, it hadn’t gone well, worse than I had ever imagined. His messages to me last night and this morning had me convinced that he would apologize for his actions and yet that is the farthest thing from what happened. By the time I had gotten there, he had switched from apologetic to angry again. Instead of his words, he let his fists do the talking. The first time catching me so off guard it knocked me off my feet successfully splitting my lip, the second time I had dodged his blow, stepping out of his reach and yelling at him to keep his hands off of me and trying to leave. But the third. The third landed square on my jaw, knocking me unconscious. 

I had come to from Chris shaking me and crying apologies. His touch sending waves of nausea through me, revolted by the thought of him. Glancing at my reflection in the surface of his coffee table I noticed the rapidly forming bruise. A mark that would serve as a vivid reminder of his actions and my inability of acting like a good, obedient girlfriend. Or so he said, after spending the morning accusing me of cheating on him with Sam. No matter what I said, it wasn’t enough to convince him that we were just friends and he had just lost it on me. I had left in a rush when he went to the bathroom, leaving everything but my phone and my keys behind on his couch. The ache in my body spurring me to move faster out of his place and into the safety of my car. The seconds it took me to get from his living room to the drivers seat, felt like an eternity. I had driven as fast as I dared back to the bunker, checking my rear view mirror constantly watching and waiting for him to appear behind me, but he didn’t. So here I sit, outside the bunker, debating the best way to get into my room without someone noticing the bruises still forming on my face. Not wanting the attention or, more likely the “I told you so’s” from Dean. I grabbed the hat from my passenger seat, tugging it low over my face. I rearrange my hair, framing it around my face in such a way that it covers as much of my jaw as it can. I take a deep breath and exit my vehicle, taking the few steps required into the bunker. 

I shut the door as quietly as I can, taking soft steps towards my room. I hope to make it into the safety and silence of my room without anyone noticing, I am not even sure who is home at this time but I don’t want to see either of them. I had nearly reached the safety of my space, but I head Dean’s door swing open behind me. 

“Y/N, you’re home sooner than I expected. Sam isn’t back yet.” He says and I freeze in my tracks, praying he doesn’t continue the conversation. 

“Okay, thanks!” I say, my voice coming out shrill and unsteady, the opposite of what I was trying to sound like. I hear him move to close his door, but he hesitates and I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the back of my head. 

“What happened to your jeans? Why is there blood on them?” He asks, and I internally curse myself out for my stupidity. I had wiped my hand across my thigh after wiping the blood off my busted lip. I must have taken too long to give him an answer, because I hear him moving closer to me and I close my eyes waiting for the moment that I had hoped to avoid. “Y/N, look at me.” He says and I can feel him ever so close to me. I turn around, keeping my eyes trained on the ground and my face angled away from him. He reaches out and gently grabs my chin, pulling it towards him so he can see me. I bite my tongue to keep the slight gasp from slipping past, his touch on my bruised jaw causing a ripple of pain to travel throughout my nerves, but he notices and his touch lightens. The opposite of his face, his expression darkens, eyes traveling over my skin. His other hand comes up and pulls my baseball hat off my head, revealing all of the color spreading through my skin, reds and purples mainly at this point in time. 

“Who did this to you?” He growls, not waiting for a response his hand drops to my wrist and tugs me behind him. I follow his lead back towards the kitchen, when we get there he points to the counter muttering one word through his angry stupor, “Sit.” I don’t, but he doesn’t notice immediately, his attention turning to something else. He walks over to the freezer and digs out the ice packs that we kept frozen for any injuries that might surface. 

When he turns around, his eyes are trained on me, a scowl engrained in his features. He sets the icepack down, before he turns to me, grabs my waist and lifts me up onto the countertop. I am caught off guard by his actions, a gasp leaving my lips from his sudden movements. His hands on my hips the most amount of physical touch that has ever been shared between the two of us. 

I train my eyes to the floor, not daring to meet his gaze. He had stepped away again, digging through the cabinets for what I think is the first aid kit. I begin to let my thoughts wander, the dull ache in my jaw pulling me back to the moment that it happened. The pure evil hidden behind his eyes, the look of absolute enjoyment he had as he watched me struggle, his hands rough and violent against my body. But I am snapped back to reality by Dean’s gentle touch, his fingertips gingerly raising my chin to look at him. Tears are beginning to form in my eyes, adrenaline wearing off and emotion taking back over. I take a deep breath, hating the way my lip quivers, still dreading showing weakness to the older Winchester. He notices, he notices all of it, but he doesn’t say anything. He gently wipes away my tears and brings a cold cloth to my lip, cleaning up the cut from the first punch. I can feel anger radiating off of his skin, even though his touch is displaying the complete opposite. 

“Did Chris do this?” He asks, his attention moving from the split in my lip to the gash on my forehead. I hiss as he wipes it clean, an antiseptic wipe pinched between his fingers, he mutters a slight apology, but continues patching me up.

“Yeah, he did. He lost it on me this morning, over nothing. It’s my fault though, I ignored all of his messages after I came home last night, so he was angry.” Dean freezes, his fingers stilling on my skin. I look up at him, confused as to why he stopped and I notice his jaw is clenched so tight that it has to be painful. 

“Don’t ever say those words again, you hear me?” He locks his eyes on mine, fury absolutely radiating off of every inch of his body. “None of this, none, is your fault, you got it?” His words are sharp and pointed, his intent clear. I nod in response, he obviously didn’t want to hear anymore, got it. I would keep my mouth shut. 

He continues patching me up, before he stills, looking me over from head to toe once more. He hands me the ice-pack he had laid out and instructs me to keep it on my jaw. He turns his back to me and washes his hands in the kitchen sink. 

“Where does the fucker live?” He asks, his voice low and so calm that it scares me slightly. 

“Why Dean?” This is when he snaps, the anger that has been coursing through him coming out in one big tsunami of a wave, now that he knows I am okay. 

“Because I am going to go beat the absolute hell out of him, show him a bit of his own medicine.” He says, each word leaving his lips like a bullet leaving a gun. Dangerous and aimed at one specific target. 

I sit quietly, unsure how to respond. 

“Why? I didn’t think you’d care this much, figured-“ 

“Oh for fucks sake!” He interrupts me and I jump from the sheer volume of his voice, he walks back over to me and stands directly in between my knees, he rests his hands on my thighs and his eyes meet my own once again. 

“I have always cared about you Y/N, from that day you showed up at our motel. Your search for Sam finally at an end. I have watched you let men into your life that don’t give two shits about you, I have watched how they treated you and I have hated every single one. None of them deserve you, they are all pitiful excuses for boyfriends. I heard you crying to Sam, each time one of them broke your heart and I had to sit back and not do anything about it. You deserve more than anyone can give you, including myself. Which is why I never said anything, I kept you at a distance. I can’t do that anymore, I can’t keep watching you put yourself into these situations. God, if you hadn’t left, he could have killed you. Probably would have killed you, and then I never would have been able to tell you that I-, that I love you.” He says, his voice growing less angry after each word leaves his mouth. My brain is spinning by the end of his speech, his words swirling around my head making me dizzy. He squeezes my leg gently, causing me to snap back to reality once again. 

I blink at him, once, twice, three times before his words finally settle over me and I am completely speechless. I never saw this coming, I admit I have feelings for him, but I had pushed them so far away because of his hatred for me. 

“Dean, I-I don’t know what to say. I always thought you hated me, so I supressed my feelings for you, I dated other men because I thought you would never want anything to do with me. I’m sorry, that I hurt you. I love you too.” I whisper, my hands coming to rest on top of his. He tugs me towards him, his fingers digging into my hips and sliding me across the counter into his embrace. 

“God, Y/N, I am so sorry he did this to you. He will never lay a finger on you again, I promise.” He says, his voice barely registering because of how quiet he is speaking. I can hear how close he is to tears, but don’t mention it to him. I hug him back and relish the way his touch makes me feel. How safe I am in his presence, every fear melting away. 

I hear the door to the bunker open and Sam calls out a greeting. Dean pulls away from me slightly, but keeps his hand resting on my thigh. 

“In the kitchen Sammy.” He calls out, and gently squeezes my leg in reassurance. 

Sam rounds the corner and stops dead in his tracks, his eyes locking on my bruised face and anger quickly replaces the initial shock. 

I look away from him, shame creeping over me. I put myself into the situation and this was the outcome, now both of them are aware of what I got myself into and it is crashing down on me in waves. I hear Dean talking to Sam, explaining everything that had happened. By the end of it, both boys were rearing to go track him down and give him a taste of his own medicine, or worse. Little did we all know, they were about to get their chance and they wouldn’t even have to leave the bunker. 

A knock sounds at the door and Sam trails off mid sentence, glancing between Dean and myself, an obvious attempting at asking if we were expecting someone. Neither of us were, and suddenly it hit me. He’s here, he had followed me. My heart is in my throat, my breathing is heightened and shallow. My eyes meet Deans and he knows exactly what I am thinking. “Stay here, sweetheart. Sam, let’s go.” He says, giving me one last look before the two of them walk out of the room and towards the source of the incessant knocking. I don’t listen however, I slide down off the counter and hurry after them. Not wanting to be left alone and waiting to find out the outcome of this visit. Dean throws open the door to the bunker, immediately grabbing my now ex-boyfriend by the collar of his shirt and pushing him backwards away from the entrance. Sam is quick to step outside next to Dean, the boys creating a wall between me and Chris. Dean withholds the fury of his fist and issues quite a few colorful threats, instilling a healthy fear into Chris. He pulls him up by his shirt again and shoves him towards his car. They stand, watching him leave before turning and heading back into the bunker. Sam is quick to be by my side, pulling me into a hug. Apologies flying from his lips. I reassure him that I am okay, my eyes remaining locked on Dean. Hoping that the moment that we had shared wasn’t a one time thing, dying to once again be in his arms. 

I excuse myself from the two of them, heading to the bathroom to clear my head. I spend a few minutes in there, my hands gripping the edge of the sink. Taking breath, after breath, trying to pull myself together. The whirlwind of a day, completely blindsiding me. I open the door to the bathroom and scan the hallway, empty. I take a chance and cross the hall towards Dean’s room. Knocking on the door and being beckoned in by his voice on the other side of the door. 

I open the door and cross the threshold, closing the door quietly behind me. His eyes are on me immediately and I stare back at him, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. Four words hang heavy in my throat, fear of rejection constricting my voice. I clear my throat and finally utter the words I had been thinking. 

“Did you mean it?” 

“Of course I did, Y/N. I will always mean it.” He whispers, and that is all it takes for me to cross the room and throw my arms around him. He immediately hugs me back, tugging me as close to him as physically possible. His lips press against my forehead, sending shivers down my spine. The warmth his body provides is all consuming and like heaven on earth. A feeling that I had never had before, it was clear that this was where I was meant to be.

“I will always keep you safe Y/N, I promise you that. I love you.” Dean says, his lips brushing against my skin as he speaks. I knew he meant it with all of his heart and that was more than enough for me. 

[holylulusworld]

Fulfillment - Flufftober 19

Summary: Dean finally lives the life he deserves and dreamed of.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Wife!Reader

Side pairing: Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy

Warnings: pregnancy, fluff, overprotective Dean, implied smut, cuddling & snuggling, Dean is a horny dog, a hint of dirty talk and dirty fantasy

Rating: Teen

Idea by: @elle14-blog1

Trope: Pregnancy

@warmandfluffybingocards: Square 16: Breakfast in bed   

@anyfandomgoesbingo: Square 7: Decorating the nursery

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Your last battle was the day Dean told you he loves you. He didn’t want to waste another moment without having you in his arms.

Chuck, or God if you want to call that jackass so, fell without glory.

Jack went to heaven, and Castiel accompanied him to make sure no one tried to abuse the young man’s powers ever again.

Since that day, you have been living a normal life.

While everyone else dreams of a more exciting life, you are happy to have a normal and boring life.

While you turned your back on the hunter’s life, you turned the bunker into a warm and cozy home. (We don’t talk about the room where Dean stored all the weapons.)

Only because you stopped hunting doesn’t mean Dean doesn’t act like an overprotective bodyguard when it comes to you. You’re his wife, the future mother of his children, and the reason to keep on going for him.

“Sweetheart,” Dean pokes his head inside the kitchen. “No…no!” He tuts. “I told you; I’m going to make breakfast.” Your husband watches you run one hand over your grown belly while stuffing a pickle into your mouth.

“I’m having cravings,” you chew audibly while your husband makes a fuss. He doesn’t want you to leave your bedroom or the bed. If it was up to Dean, he’d wrap you in a dozen blankets and never let you leave the bed again. “And no one is going to attack us here.”

“You don’t know that” your husband argues. He steps inside the kitchen and wraps his arms around you, making you groan. “I need to keep you safe and happy.”

“Last night you made me very happy.”

Dean snickers as he remembers the way you were writhing on his cock.

“I remember you were a begging mess, Y/N. Loud and naughty. Just the way I like you.”

“Dean, we can’t make out in the kitchen again. Sammy will kill us,” you whine as your husband kisses down your neck. “I mean it, baby. We can’t get caught again.”

“But getting caught is half the fun,” Dean laughs in your neck, making you giggle. “Alright. If you are a good girl and go to our bedroom to lie down, I’ll make you the best breakfast you ever ate. I promise it’s not my dick.”

“You’re lucky I love you, Mr. Winchester. You’re a very naughty man,” you chuckle as he whispers dirty nothings in your ear. “If you don’t want to end up getting caught by your brother and Eileen, we better go back to our bedroom.”

“Sex before breakfast. I knew you were the one…” He hums in your neck. “But after you’ll eat all the delicious things I’ll cook for you…”

“A red rose, and food, huh,” Sam watches his brother carry a tray filled with breakfast and a single red rose out of the kitchen. “Did you leave some food for us?”

“Sure, Sammy,” Dean grins. “My wife needs the food. I wore her out.”

Sam shakes his head. Sometimes his brother has no shame…or like ever. “Luckily she’s already pregnant or you’d get her pregnant.”

“Who says I won’t get her pregnant again?” Dean chuckles. “We are having twins. Next time, I’ll fill her with triplets.”

“What do you say? Will she like it?” Dean shows his brother and Eileen the U-shaped pregnancy pillow he got for you. He has it draped over his shoulder to show it to Sam. “It’s good for the babies and her, right?”

Eileen smirks as her brother-in-law excitedly tells them about all the things he bought for you and the babies.

“It’s nice of you to get the pillow,” she finally says. Dean looks adorable with all the stuffies tugged under his arm. “What do you want to do with the rest?” She questions.

“While Y/N is having a nap, I’m going to decorate the nursery. We are almost done, but she’s a little under the weather this week. I’ll finish it and show her everything when she feels better.”

“Do you need help?” Sam offers willingly. “We are going finish the nursery faster if we work together.”

“Are you sure, Sammy?”

Sam flashes his brother a smile. “Well, I’m counting on your help when we are having triplets…”

“I love the pillow,” Dean states as you and your husband lie on the bed, the pregnancy pillow wrapped around your bodies. “They were right. It’s perfect for snuggling and cuddling.”

You grin as Dean moves impossibly closer to hide his face in your neck. “I heard you finished the nursery.”

“Sammy and Eileen helped. If there’s something you do not like, blame Sammy.”

“I know that I’ll love it,” you mumble sleepily. “Just like I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart, and the little beans,” he whispers in your ear while moving one hand to your belly. “I’ll always protect you and our babies. Always.”

Tags in reblog.

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Against Instincts

Summary: Dean made a very serious mistake but much to his surprise, Reader forgives him & the two share a special moment.

TW/CW: Abuse (by Reader's father), Mention of Dean hitting Reader, Dean doubting himself, Mentions of injuries (bruises, welt, etc.), Angst Angst Angst, Dean Winchester x Reader

Requested?: No

Word Count: 1,979

A/N: Idek where this came from. It sorta spawned from me wishing Dean could show up & rescue me from my dog shit life (I'm not being abused I just have a lot of bullshit going on with my parents) & also just me feeling angsty as fuck. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the read. REQUESTS ARE OPEN! Much love to all!

(Y/N)’s POV 

    John Winchester was a hard ass at times but he was never cruel. I think that's why when his teenage son, Dean, returned from what was supposed to be a quick grocery store run with myself around the same age in tow claiming, "Her dad is a monster. We have to help her," he couldn't just ignore me & send me on my way. He visibly stowed his anger at Dean's tardiness & observed me. I’m sure he took note of the bruises scattered across the little bit of skin I had visible, some were old, some were new. He probably noticed the split lip paired with a blossoming black eye. Yet, he ushered me into the car with orders for Sam & Dean to stay put. 

    When he pulled into my driveway my face felt warn with embarrassment. From the outside, my house looked like no one had lived there in years. He walked me to the front door & knocked. When there was no response, he knocked again.  

    I looked up at him, “He’s probably asleep.” I opened the door & walked in. Inside, the house was spotless. When I entered, my father stirred on the couch & sat up.  

    He was very clearly drunk as he slurred his words, “Where the hell have you been, girl?” 

    I looked down at my shopping bags in my hands, “I went out to get milk & bread.” 

    My father rubbed his eyes, still having not noticed John standing just outside the front door, “Ain’t you got something to clean? Make yourself useful & get me beer first.” 

    I hid my face from John as I shuffled over to the fridge & retrieved a beer as instructed. I walked over to the couch & handed it to him, “What would you like me to clean?” 

    He looked up at me, furious, “Are you dumb? You should be able to figure out how to clean by now.” Dean was right, this man is a monster. I took a few steps back & looked around me for something to clean.  

    In the blink of an eye, my father jumped up from the couch & grabbed my arm, “Get your useless ass into the kitchen & wash those damn dishes,” he yelled before shoving me so hard toward the counter that I lost balance & hit the floor. John rushed over & offered his hand to me as my father lazily wandered over to the couch & plopped down. I gently took John’s hand & was hauled to my feet.  

    Suddenly, my father noticed John’s presence, “Who the hell are you?” John said nothing & simply pulled the me to the front door, placing himself between me & my father who was still plastered on the couch. Before the door shut behind us, I heard my father grumble, “Good riddance. She’s worthless anyway.” Tears rushed to my eyes but I fought them back as John pulled me toward the car. Once we were safely inside, he sped back toward the motel. 

    There was never a missing person’s report filed or police involvement. My father never bothered to look for me. People we encountered never questioned why I was with the Winchesters. It seemed everyone assumed I was their daughter & sister. Sure, life on the road was never easy & sometimes John was hard on me but I would much rather stay with the Winchesters than to go back to my father. At some point, I stopped only giving my first name when introducing myself & began introducing myself as (Y/N) Winchester. They were the closest thing I had ever had to a family. 

    I am pulled back to the present at the faint sound of voices outside my bedroom door. They’re too quiet to make out what is being said but I roll over grabbing my headphones to play music to drown them out completely. 

Dean’s POV 

    “What are you doing?” Sam asks, shaking me from my thoughts. I stay silent. “Dean, what’s wrong? Why are you sitting outside of (Y/N)’s door in the middle of the night?” I look down at my lap. “She tried to get you to talk to her didn’t she?” I nod. “What’d you do? Yell at her?” 

    I clench my jaw, “And hit her.” 

    Sam is taken aback, “You-” It’s quiet. “You can’t apologize to her if you’re just sitting out here on your ass.” 

    “She’s hasn’t cried,” I mumble. 

    “How do you know?” Sam asks. 

    “When she ran out of the room, I realized what I did & followed her. By the time I made it to her door, she had already shut it.” 

    “So, you-” 

    “I’ve been sitting here trying to convince myself to knock & she hasn’t cried at all,” 

    “You know when she doesn’t cry she’s-” 

    “I know,” I grit my teeth, “She’s angry.” 

    “Well, like I said, you can’t make it right sitting out here.” 

    “Not long after she left her dad & hit the road with us, I promised her that I’d never let anything happen to her. I’d always protect her.” 

    “Dean-” 

    “I hit her, Sam. I’m no better than that piece of shit that calls himself her father.” 

   “Dean, don’t. That man let a stranger walk out of his house with her. He didn’t give two shits that he hurt her. He wouldn’t be sitting outside her bedroom door nearly in tears trying to convince himself to apologize. You’re better than that guy. You’re her best friend & you need to talk to her.” I tossed Sam’s words around in my head for a few moments before he walked off saying, “If you do decide to get up & knock, I might think about rescuing you when she beats the shit out of you.” 

    “I deserve whatever she does to me,” I mumble to myself. 

(Y/N)’s POV 

    After a few hours of listening to music, my headphones beep that they’re dying. I pull them off & toss them toward the end of the bed, making a mental note to charge them later. For a few moments, all I can hear is the music still playing through my dying headphones. Then, there’s a knock at the door. I hold my breath hoping they’ll go away. I’m sure it’s Dean but I’m hoping it’s Sam. If I face Dean right now, I might kill him. Okay, maybe not kill but definitely maim. 

    Another knock sounds. I begrudgingly toss the covers off of my legs & get up. As I pad over to the door, the knocker speaks, “(Y/N), please let me in. I am so unbelievably sorry. I know I don’t deserve it but please let me check on you.” I’m quiet, mentally arguing with myself about whether I should open the door or not. “Okay... I understand. I’ll leave you alone.” 

    I rush to open the door. His head shoots up to look at me. The worry & fear on his face hurts my heart. I know Dean. I know him better than I know myself sometimes, which is why I never expected the outburst from him that I got. I clench my jaw, “I’m fine.” Dean scans my face before breaking eye contact & looking down at his feet. I leave the door open & return to sit on the end of my bed. He stays put at the open door so I give him a look that says, “Well, come in.” 

    He begins making his way to me, “(Y/N) I-” he drops to his knees in front of me & drops his head into his hands, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me & I know that’s no excuse but please know I never wanted to hurt you I just got angry.” When he looks up again, there is tears in his eyes. His voice cracks as he reaches up, “Can I?” 

    I nod. He gently runs the pad of his thumb over the welt & slowly forming bruise on my cheek. I notice his jaw clench as he pulls his hand away, “Let’s hear it...” 

    I tilt my head at him with confusion on my face, “Hear what?” 

    “How you never want to see me again & I’m a piece of shit. I’m sure you’re probably wanting to give me a couple good right hooks for what I did,” his voice is small & quiet as he continues, “I deserve it.” 

    I think for a moment, “You’re right. I want to beat the shit out of you. The crazy & scary thing is I’d rather crawl into your lap & you hold me like we used to do when I would wake up screaming from a nightmare about my father. I want you to tell me everything is okay & that you’re here & you’ll keep me safe.” I let my words hang in the air for a second & it breaks my heart to see him break a little too. “But... you hit me, Dean... You’re supposed to make sure no one ever hurts me but you hurt me. I want so badly to just brush it off & move on but I can’t. Every instinct in my bones is screaming that I can’t trust you.” 

    He nods solemnly, “I understand. I’ll leave you alone.”  

    He stands to leave but I grab his arm, “Contrary to my usual belief, my instincts aren’t winning this time.” I tug him to sit beside me on the bed, “Dean, you’re the most important person in my life. Somedays, you’re all that keeps me going... I can’t lose you, not when I know that outburst is not who you are.” He’s quiet but a look of hope grows on his face. I continue, “I forgive you.”  

    A small smile graces his features, “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me. I promise I will never hurt you again. I promise I’ll do better.” I nod & we’re left in silence for a few moments before he speaks again, “You were trying to get me to tell you why I’ve been distant lately.” I nod, he takes a deep breath, “I-... I’ve been trying to distance myself from you because... because I love you (Y/N). It terrifies me because I know you deserve better & I know you don’t feel the same way so I was hoping distancing myself would make those feelings go away but if anything, it made them worse & I was just super frustrated that it wasn’t working so when you came to me asking what’s wrong I just exploded.” he pauses, “I’m sorry you got caught in the blast radius.” 

    I take his hand in mine, “I’m gonna break this down piece by piece. First of all, idk how on earth you think I’m gonna find anyone better than you. You always take care of me & keep me safe. You know me better than anyone. You understand me better than anyone. I won’t find that anywhere else. Second of all, how dare you assume I don’t feel the same way,” I giggle, “When did you become a mind reader? Thirdly, why didn’t you just tell me you needed space? I would’ve understood. I didn’t enjoy just being left in the cold by my best friend & the man I love.” 

    He looks me in the eye, “I don’t deserve you, ya know that?” I shrug. He chuckles, “I’m sorry I didn’t just say something. I’ll add it to my list of things to be better about.” 

    I squeeze his hand, “While you’re at it, add stop doubting yourself to the list.” I place my free hand on his cheek, “I wish you could see yourself the way I do.” 

    He leans his forehead against mine, “I love you, (Y/N)” 

    I smile, “I love you too, Dean.” 

More Dean Winchester

Masterlist

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: can you do one where she has an abusive ex boyfriend that they are aware of and he comes into the diner or something and spots her and messes with her but he basically just ends up threatening her and a few days later they are at the bar and he’s there and hurts her or something. you can figure it out from there, im sure it will be great. thank uuuu:))))

Dean and Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader

A/N: I hope this is exactly what you were looking for! Please let me know if you like this or not so I know what I can work on in my next writings! Everyone’s feedback is much appreciated like so so greatly appreciated. Requests are still open. You can literally flood my inbox with them, I don’t mind and I don’t mind writing things that I’ve already written! Thank you all!!!

Warning: Abuse

It was supposed to be just another quiet stop for the Winchesters. I was looking forward to something as mundane as a diner meal. A warm meal, some decent coffee, a few minutes without the looming threat of monsters or supernatural forces. It almost felt like normal.

I had slipped out of the car first, craving the smell of greasy diner food, and found a corner booth with a good view of the door. Sam and Dean followed shortly after, sitting across from me, and for a moment, I let myself relax. I could almost forget the weight of the world. I could almost pretend that we were just a normal family, sitting together for a meal. The low murmur of the conversation around me felt almost comforting. It was nice to feel like a normal person, if only for a brief moment.

The waitress brought over the coffee pot, filling my cup with a polite smile. I offered a small smile back, grateful for the normalcy.

But then, the door to the diner opened, and with it, a chill seemed to creep into the room.

I glanced up, my blood running cold as my gaze locked onto the figure that had just walked in. He wasn’t a monster, at least not in the traditional sense. He was human—far too human—and that was the problem.

Mike.

His eyes scanned the diner, his lips curling into a cruel smirk as they landed on me. My heart slammed into my chest as a sickening wave of panic swept over me. My hands suddenly felt clammy, my palms slick against the tabletop. I tried to breathe, but it felt like the air had thickened, suffocating me.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked, his voice laced with concern as he noticed my sudden stiffening.

Before I could answer, it was too late. Mike was already on his way over, his footsteps deliberately slow and deliberate, the sound of his boots clacking loudly against the tiled floor. His presence seemed to dominate the room, and the air felt suddenly too small, too tight.

I tried to keep my voice steady as I muttered under my breath, barely audible. “He can’t be here…”

Sam, not understanding the source of my fear yet, gave me a questioning look. “Who?”

But I couldn’t answer. I was already frozen, the world around me turning into a blur. My heart was pounding too loudly in my ears. I had only seen him once since I ran away from everything—since I left him behind. And now, here he was, standing right in front of me.

He didn’t even acknowledge Sam or Dean as he leaned in, his eyes gleaming with that same arrogance I remembered so well.

“Well, well,” Mike’s voice was low, laced with mockery. “If it isn’t the little runaway.” He leaned a little closer, his eyes glinting with something dark, something predatory. “Thought you could just leave, didn’t you? Thought you could just run away from me.”

My stomach dropped. Every muscle in my body tensed, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I had to get away. I had to leave—but I was trapped. Trapped in that sickening gaze, in the memories that rushed back all at once.

Dean’s voice was sharp, the protective edge in his tone clear. “Who the hell are you?”

Mike looked over at him, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. “You don’t need to worry about me, tough guy,” he sneered, his gaze flicking back to me. “I’m just an old friend of hers.” He said the word with a twisted emphasis, almost like it was a taunt. “Funny, though. Guess some people can’t escape their past, huh?”

Sam’s hand moved instinctively to his gun under the table, his brow furrowing as he studied Mike. But Mike wasn’t finished. Not yet.

“You know,” Mike continued, leaning closer to me, his voice dropping to a sickening whisper that only I could hear, “you’ll always be pathetic and weak. And them?” He gestured to Sam and Dean, who were watching him now, their expressions darkening. “They are just waiting for you to run away like I was waiting. Nobody wants you. You’re useless.”

I recoiled at the words, my breath catching in my throat. I had to force myself to speak, to fight through the panic that was clawing at my chest. “Stop, Mike. Just—just stop.”

That was all it took.

Sam’s hand flew to his gun, his posture shifting into one of full alert. Dean’s eyes were cold, murderous, as he slid out of the booth, taking a protective step forward.

“Mike?” Dean’s voice was low, filled with the kind of rage that only came from protecting family. “You’ve got about three seconds to walk out of here, or I swear to God, I’ll put you in the ground where you stand.”

But Mike didn’t move. Instead, he looked at me, his grin widening into something more cruel, more malicious. “Awww what the little pathetic baby can’t protect herself, huh?” His eyes flicked to Sam and Dean. “You’re just so useless in every aspect there ever was, huh?”

I was trembling now, the panic overwhelming me. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, Mike,” I forced through clenched teeth. My voice wavered, but there was a sharpness to it I hadn’t known I had until now. “You don’t control me anymore.”

The shift in the air was palpable. Sam had his hand on the gun now, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping it. Dean’s jaw was tight, his whole body tense with barely contained fury.

“You need to leave, Mike,” Dean growled, his voice like gravel. “You’re fucking done.”

Mike’s eyes flicked between Sam and Dean, his grin faltering slightly, but his posture didn’t change.

“You’re just the same screwed up girl from before.”

Your breath caught in your throat. That was the line that broke you. The same girl. The girl he had torn apart for so many years. The girl who had thought she was worthless because of him.

The words stung in a way that you hadn’t expected. And that fear, that same suffocating dread from your past, began to creep in. You felt your knees weaken.

Dean’s voice was a low growl. “Back the hell off right now or I’ll beat the shit out of you right here.” His posture was threatening, and you saw the way his hands were ready at his sides.

Mike smirked, taking a final look at you. “You can hide behind these two all you want, but you’ll always be that same scared little girl. I’ll show you soon. I’ll remind them of who I really am. I’ll remind you.” Dean yanked him by his shirt and held him in a tight grip. I stepped back instinctively, my mind reeling as his words cut through me, dredging up memories I had worked so hard to forget. Mike had been my first love—my first mistake—and he had torn me apart. I’d run from him years ago, thinking I could leave it behind, but now here he was, reopening every scar, every bruise.

But this time was different.

Sam’s voice cut through the tension, sharp as a blade, his hand reaching for his gun, his voice unwavering. “I think you should leave before this becomes a bigger problem than you’re willing to deal with.”

Mike finally hesitated. His grin had completely faltered, his eyes flicking nervously to Sam’s hand on his gun and to Dean’s grip on him. But then he straightened, pulling himself together with a sneer.

“Fine,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “But don’t think you’re done with me. None of you are.”

With that, Dean practically pushed him towards the diner’s exit. He stumbled towards the exit, his boots pounding on the tile as the door slammed shut behind him.

The tension in the room didn't dissipate until the door clicked shut, and the bell chimed again. Sam and Dean both stood in protective stances, eyes still locked on the door as if he might turn back at any moment. leaving us all tense and shaken.

Finally, Dean turned to you, his face softening slightly as he crossed back to your side. “You okay?” He asked gently. His voice was quiet, calming, but I could still hear the edge of anger beneath it, the protective instinct roaring through him. Sam turned to me, his eyes also softening with worry. You nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. The terror still gripped you. You were safe for now, but that didn’t undo what Mike had done to you in the past. The words still echoed in your head, the cruelty of his tone burning through your thoughts.

“Sweetheart…” Sam trailed off with so much softness in his voice. His eyes were so gentle as he looked down at you, trying to read your body language.

I swallowed hard, trying to shake off the cold, nauseating feeling his presence had left behind. I nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just... just a little nervous now.”

Dean’s eyes were still hard, but he was quick to reassure me. “He will never, ever touch you again. I promise you that, kid.”

Sam gently touched my shoulder, “we have your back. Always.”

And for the first time in years, I allowed myself to believe that I was no longer his.

The peace didn’t last for long though. It was supposed to be an uneventful stop—a break before we hit the road and got out of this God forsaken town. I needed a moment, a chance to breathe. Dean and Sam had been talking about a hunt tomorrow, so they disappeared into the back of the bar, probably discussing plans, leaving me behind for a drink and some quiet.

The low hum of the jukebox, the clink of glasses, and the murmur of casual conversations had a calming effect on me. I slid into a corner booth, tucked away, hoping for a rare moment of peace.

But peace is fleeting.

A shadow crossed the door, and my heart dropped into my stomach. The familiar figure of Mike, tall, broad-shouldered, with that smug, unrepentant grin, entered the bar.

Time seemed to stop. I didn’t want him here. I didn’t want to face him again. Not after everything.

I tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest, but my hands trembled as I gripped my glass. I couldn’t look away from him, not when he started scanning the room with a slow, deliberate gaze. And then, his eyes met mine.

A twisted grin spread across his face, and I could feel the chill crawl up my spine. He recognized me.

"Well, well... Look who it is." His voice carried, and a sharp sense of dread flooded my chest. "I didn’t think you’d be hiding out in a place like this, of all places. And alone of all things."

I froze, my throat tightening. I wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I forced my gaze downward, trying to ignore him. I didn’t want to make a scene, but everything in my body screamed for me to run.

Then, he was there. Standing at the edge of the booth, his face too close, too familiar.

"I told you, didn’t I?" Mike’s voice lowered to a sickening whisper. "You think you could just run away from me?"

I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. His words dug into me, each one like a knife, twisting memories I’d buried deep.

Mike’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with a grip so tight it sent a wave of panic through me. His fingers dug into my skin, and I winced in pain. I tried to pull back, but he was stronger. His fingers tightened, and suddenly I heard a sickening pop, like something snapping in my wrist. My breath caught in my throat, a strangled cry barely escaping as the pain surged through my arm, radiating through my entire body.

"Stop..." I whimpered, barely able to speak.

"Please..."

A sick, triumphant smile stretched across his face as he looked down at me, watching my agony with amusement.

“Does that hurt, sweetheart?” he sneered, his voice cruel and mocking. “I told you, you’ll always be mine. You can’t run from me. You’ll always be weak.”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even think.

"You'll always be mine. You'll always be that scared little girl. You think they can protect you now?" He laughed bitterly. "You're still weak. You always were." The pain was unbearable. The past came rushing back in waves—memories I had worked so hard to bury.

"Please... just leave me alone," I whispered, my voice small, helpless. But the more I begged, the harder he squeezed and every nerve in my body screamed.

When he finally released me, I flinched away, holding my arm close to my chest, trying not to show how much it hurt. He stepped back, his laugh echoing in my ears like a haunting reminder of the past.

Tears stung my eyes, but I couldn’t look at him anymore. I needed to leave. I needed to be away from him.

I pushed myself up from the booth, my legs shaky as I stumbled, pain shooting through my wrist. I had to get to Sam and Dean. They were my safe place.

I spotted them near the back, talking casually, and I made my way over to them. But as soon as they saw my face, both of them stopped. They were confused, worried—something wasn’t right.

“Hey, you alright?” Dean asked, his voice laced with concern.

But I couldn’t answer. I was shaking, my breath quickening as panic filled my chest. The pain in my wrist was unbearable, but more than that, it was the fear that had me paralyzed.

I whimpered, my voice barely above a whisper. “Can we go? Please. I… I’m sorry.”

Dean furrowed his brow, clearly not understanding what was going on. Sam turned to me, his face softening with worry, but I couldn’t explain. I couldn’t bring myself to say what had just happened. The words stuck in my throat.

“What’s going on?” Sam said gently, stepping forward as he tried to look me over.

But I didn’t know how to explain it. I didn’t know how to tell them that Mike—he—was here, that he’d hurt me again. The old fear wrapped around my chest, suffocating me, making it impossible to form the words.

I just wanted to go.

I looked down, clutching my wrist to my chest, desperately trying to stop the shaking. The pain in my arm was excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the terror I felt in my gut. I just needed to get out.

“Please…” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I just want to go. Please.”

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What happened?" he demanded, his tone sharper now, full of suspicion. "What the hell's going on?"

I took a step back, wanting to run. I was shaking, terrified of what might happen if I opened my mouth.

"Please..." My voice cracked, but I barely got the words out. "I just... I just want to leave. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause a scene.”

That’s when they noticed.

Sam’s eyes darted down to my wrist, where I was holding it against my chest, as if trying to protect it from the world. His face shifted from concern to something darker.

“Did someone hurt you?” Sam’s voice was sharp, full of the protective edge that only came out when someone threatened his family. But when Sam reached for my wrist, I shrieked in pain, the sharp agony from my arm surging through me like fire. My breath caught in my throat, and I staggered back, clutching my wrist tighter against my chest.

"Whoa, hey! What's wrong?" Sam's eyes widened, his hand immediately withdrawing as if he'd been burned.

Dean's head snapped toward us, his face now set in stone, eyes filled with fury. "What the hell happened to you?"

I was shaking now, too terrified to speak. The pain was throbbing, but the fear was worse-Mike's words playing over and over in my mind, his grip still seared into my memory.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I repeated, my voice shaking. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"What the hell happened?" Dean growled, his voice now a low, dangerous growl, the protective instinct flooding him. He stood up, scanning the room. "Who did this to you?"

I couldn't make myself say it. I couldn't say Mike's name. I couldn't admit that he was here, that he'd found me again and that I had let him hurt me.

Sam looked at me, his face full of worry. "You're not okay. You're hurt," he said, but I was too terrified to look him in the eye. "Let me see your wrist."

But I recoiled again, clutching my arm tighter against my chest, almost as if I could will the pain to stop. The world around me felt like it was closing in.

"Please, can we just go?" | begged, my voice so small, so broken. "I don't want to stay here. I'm—I'm sorry… please don’t make me stay here."

Sam's eyes softened, his brow furrowing in concern. "It's okay," he said, his voice soothing.

"We're going to get you out of here. But I need to know what happened."

"I-I can't," I whimpered, barely able to get the words out. "Please... can we go? I—I don’t want to be here anymore…please"

Dean's eyes narrowed when he noticed something-something in my expression, something in the way I was trembling. He followed my line of sight to the bar.

And then he saw him.

Mike.

His eyes narrowing when he saw him standing near the bar, still watching us with that same twisted smile.

“Son of a bitch. I’ll fucking kill him.” Dean’s voice was low and furious.

Dean's face went stone cold, his jaw tightening in fury. "You stay here," he snapped at Sam before striding toward the bar, his eyes fixed on Mike.

"This ends tonight." He growled.

Sam's attention immediately turned back to me, his eyes full of compassion but also deep concern.

"We're leaving, okay?" He whispered, his hand gently rubbing my back. "You're gonna be fine.

I've got you."

Sam grabbed me gently, trying to steady me as I swayed on my feet. "Hey, it’s okay. Let’s get you to the car, alright?" He guided me toward the door, his hand steady on my back, trying to shield me from anything else that might set me off.

I was shaking so hard now that I could barely walk. Every step felt like my whole body was falling apart. Sam helped me out into the parking lot, his arm around me for support, but my head was spinning.

“I’m right here, okay? You’re safe,” Sam murmured, guiding me to the Impala. He opened the door, helping me inside and then taking a seat beside me, his arm around my shoulders.

I still couldn’t stop shaking. The pain in my wrist throbbed, but it was the fear, the memories Mike brought with him, that really tore me apart. I curled into myself, pressing my face into my knees, trying to block out the world.

“Sam,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, cracking under the weight of the terror still coursing through me. “I—I can’t take it.” I could feel the tremors in my body, my hands trembling violently as the memories of Mike’s cruel grip and mocking smile surged back, unrelenting.

“Shh, sweetheart,” Sam whispered, his voice a low, soothing balm against my panic. He pulled me into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around me like a shield, his warmth grounding me. “He won’t hurt you again. I promise. We won’t let him.”

But the images of Mike—the way he’d grinned as he hurt me—flashed in my mind like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. His mocking laugh. His fingers digging into my wrist, squeezing until I thought it might break.

“Sam,” I whimpered again, my voice breaking under the strain of the terror that still gripped me.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m right here,” he said, his words steady but filled with an emotion I couldn’t place. I could feel him, tense and alert, but trying so hard to stay calm for me. He rubbed my back, his hand a steadying pressure, as if to remind me that I wasn’t alone in this.

“No… Sam. He—he—” I choked, unable to finish the sentence, unable to find the words that could make sense of what Mike had done to me.

“You’re okay, bug,” Sam whispered urgently, his voice soft yet insistent. “You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you anymore. I’ve got you.”

I could barely breathe. Every time I tried to inhale, the memory of his grip tightened around my chest. “He… he was mocking me,” I finally managed to get out, my voice trembling. “He wouldn’t let me go… and—he was holding my wrist so tight… so tight, Sam. I tried… I tried to pull away, but it hurt so much.” My voice cracked as the memory hit me with a wave of nausea. “I heard it pop. I—I heard it pop, Sam… and it hurt so bad… and he just smiled. He—he watched me cry out in pain, and he just… he just grinned.”

I couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked my body, the memories ripping me apart all over again. “He—he said, ‘Does that hurt, sweetheart?’ With…with a sick smile… mocking me, Sam. Mocking me.” My breath caught, and the words felt like they were tearing me apart as I said them aloud. “He was enjoying me suffering.”

Tears slipped down my face as the weight of it all threatened to drown me. “I—I was so scared. I couldn’t get away… I couldn’t escape him.”

Sam’s breath caught in his throat. The tension in the air thickened as Sam's eyes softened with every word you spoke, his heart breaking for you. He was furious, sick to his stomach at the thought of what you’d just endured. I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, but his hands were gentle as he held me, pulling me closer to him. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t let go of me, didn’t loosen his grip. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, as though he could somehow shield you from the world’s cruelty. He ran his hand gently over your hair, the soothing motion an attempt to calm you, even as his own anger simmered beneath the surface. His chest ached for you, and he could barely comprehend the reality of what you’d been through. His usually calm demeanor was shattered by the raw vulnerability in your voice, by the pain that was still evident in your body language.

"You’re safe now," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “He can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let him.”

You clung to him, your sobs shaking your whole frame. The words, the images of what Mike had done to you, kept replaying in your mind, and you couldn’t escape the fear that still gripped you. “I—I couldn’t get away,” you gasped between sobs, your breath hitching in your chest. “I tried, Sam. I tried so hard, but he—he wouldn’t let me go.”

Sam’s grip on you tightened as he inhaled deeply, the pit of his stomach sinking at the sound of your broken voice. “He hurt you... he hurt you, and you couldn’t get away,” he said, more to himself than to you, the words leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

He could feel the anger bubbling up inside of him, fury at the way Mike had tormented you, at the way he’d tried to take control of your life again. The protective instinct in Sam had always been strong, but now it was on fire. He wanted to destroy Mike, to make sure he could never hurt you again.

“You’re so strong, you know that? So strong.” Sam whispered softly, trying to soothe you, even as the guilt gnawed at him. He wasn’t there when you needed him the most. He wasn’t there when you were so scared and alone, and it tore him apart. “You got out and he will never get near you again.”

You nodded against his chest, your tears soaking through his shirt. “I just want to go home, Sam,” you whispered, your voice small, barely audible.

“I know, I know.” Sam’s voice broke slightly, and he pulled you even closer, the act of comfort nearly suffocating but necessary. “We’re going home, I promise. You’re safe.”

Sam gently cupped your face in his hands, pulling your head back so he could look into your eyes. His gaze was unwavering, filled with compassion and a fierce protectiveness that only grew stronger. "Listen to me, okay?" he said, his voice firm but still so full of love. “You’re safe. I’m here, and Dean’s taking care of it. You’ll never be alone again, okay? Not for a second. We’re going to take care of you.”

You nodded, tears still streaming down your face, but there was a sense of relief. In Sam’s arms, you felt like you were finally breathing again, the suffocating fear slowly easing just a little. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could be okay.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” you whispered again, feeling the guilt start to creep in. “I didn’t want to—"

“Hey,” Sam interrupted gently, his voice firm yet gentle, “You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong. You hear me?”

You blinked up at him, still trembling, but a small flicker of hope began to emerge. “I just…I just want to forget it all.”

“I know you do,” Sam said softly.

Just then, the driver’s door of the Impala swung open with a force that rattled the frame, and Dean stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury. The sight of you, still trembling, tears streaking down your face, seemed to momentarily soften the storm inside him, but the determined, protective look in his eyes was unmistakable. His jaw clenched tight, his fist white-knuckling the steering wheel, as he slammed the door behind him with a sharp thud.

“I took care of it,” Dean’s voice was low, gritty, strained with barely contained rage. His words held the weight of someone who’d just been to hell and back. “There’s a good chance he won’t even remember you when he wakes up.”

Sam’s eyes flicked to Dean’s knuckles, bloodied and raw, and the air in the car grew thick with the unspoken history of everything that had just transpired. “Holy shit, Dean,” Sam muttered, his voice a mixture of concern and disbelief.

Dean met Sam’s gaze, his expression cold and hard, a line of fury still drawn across his face. “I’m done letting him think he can still keep dragging her through hell. He got what was coming to him,” Dean growled, the last words leaving his mouth like a threat, but also as a promise to you.

Sam nodded, the corners of his lips curling slightly, the relief in his eyes undeniable. “Good.” His voice softened as he turned to you, the weight of the situation settling into his chest. “We’ve got your back. Always.”

Dean’s eyes flicked toward you for a brief moment, his face hardening again, but there was something softer in his gaze now—something tender, protective. He turned his attention to the rearview mirror, his posture tense, as though the rage still burned deep in his chest, refusing to fully dissipate. "He’s never getting near you again, kid," Dean said, his voice gravelly, but with a deadly certainty that made it clear he would move mountains to keep you safe.

And in that moment, for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed it. You believed they’d keep their promise. Mike wouldn’t touch you again. Not ever. The weight of that truth settled in your heart, the fear that had clung to you for so long slowly beginning to unravel. It was over. You were free. And with your brothers by your side, you finally felt like you could breathe again.

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f! reader

Description: Sam's nightmare leads the group to Saginaw Michigan. But it's more than a nightmare and it's more than any ol' hunt. Things are revealed about the past as it sends them barreling into the future.

Warnings: Cannon violence, I might have gotten a little too carried away with the beginning scene sorry not sorry! flirtation, banter, mentions of su!cide, gore, mentions of child abuse, mentions of past abuse, guns, a roller coaster of emotions, and a lot of angst (no one can be happy...sorry!)

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara

Word Count: 9,912

Nightmare

(Masterlist, Prev Ch, Next Ch)

I turn over in my bed, burying my head deeper into the pillows to ignore the loud and insistent banging from my door. I mumble incoherently into the covers, sleep having its claws so deep into my brain. “Please open the door, sweetheart. ‘m tryna give you privacy here but if this door isn’t open in five seconds I’m gonna use my key,” Dean warns loudly, his voice raspy. I hum softly into the bedding but make no move to get up, instead snuggling deeper into the blankets. The remains of sleep creep into the corners of my mind, hazing the rest of my brain.

Suddenly a gentle calloused hand is on my bare shoulder, “Come on baby, as much as I wanna let you sleep Sammy needs us to hurry.”

“Mhm,” I hum halfheartedly, digging myself further into the bed if possible. “Alright that’s it,” he says finally. There's some shuffling before the covers are pulled back, a rush of cold air prickling my exposed legs followed by the warmth of his hands dragging up and down my calves slowly before leaving to pull down my slip nightgown further past my butt. That wakes me up. My eyes flutter open, and as much as I loved my little cotton nightgown every time I wore it to bed I woke up to a full tit out and the bottom up at my hips. Luckily this time I didn’t think it rode up so high, it had only felt like it was just barely covering my butt, so at the most, he saw a flash of my underwear which is not the most ideal thing to happen, and also insanely embarrassing but at least I was wearing one of my cute pairs. And at least he didn’t comment on it, except he did pull it down further which means he probably did see…oh god. 

“Okay! I’m awake Dean!” I say, my words half mumbled by the bed but if I turned over he would also be seeing a boob today and he had seen enough already. His hands grip my ankles, his thumbs rubbing my skin, oh lord. No. I have to focus…and not on how butterflies are erupting in my stomach, fluttering around frantically, “Not convinced baby, not until I see you get up,” he conceded. He was really playing with my resolve and it was a very fickle thing to begin with. 

“Yeah, so if I flip myself around you’d be getting flashed. These nightgowns…just you know…” I admit, my face warm for two different reasons. His thumbs pause and I can practically hear the arch of his brow and that devilish smirk, “By all means, continue…”

“Dean,” I warn.

“I really wouldn’t object to it, wouldn’t complain one bit,” he comments, his voice dripping with amusement. “Dean!” His hands leave me entirely and I suddenly miss the warmth he brought, “Alright, alright,” he gives in, “I’ll go, be waitin’ in the car. I’d hurry though Sam’s freaking out about needing to leave but won't say anythin’ more.”

The initial embarrassment of being woken up the way I was or at least the result of that, as well as being a little “late” had long worn off except for when Dean caught my eyes in the rearview mirror then it all came rushing back. But I needed to screw my head on right, and not get distracted by his playful teasing manner, he was most likely compensating for the fact that he had to say goodbye to the woman he loved again. Ending on good terms aside those feelings don’t just magically disappear especially when it only happened recently. Either way, I was thankful for the nightfall's darkness, because with each gaze my face heated up even if it was against my better judgment. 

I needed to focus.

Sam had his ear pressed into his phone, reading from a fake ID to potentially give real information, “McReady. Detective McReady, badge number 158. I’ve got a signal 480 in progress, I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven…Yeah okay, just hurry.” 

Dean glances over at his brother, concern written in his eyes, “Sammy relax. I’m sure it’s just a nightmare.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam remarks. 

“You know considering he was right about your old house I’m pretty much convinced he’s right about this one too,” I add. Dean adjusts his hold on the steering wheel, “It could also just be a dream. Y’know, a normal everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare. This license plate, it won’t check out. You’ll see,” Dean tries to reason though I can't understand why he won’t accept that Sam has been right before and will be right again, my only guess would be fear.

“I mean I suppose,” I shrug, “but even just logically speaking unless you’re lucid dreaming you can’t read in your sleep, as the part of your brain that’s responsible for logic and intellect shuts down. So following that logic, he wouldn’t have been able to read or understand that license plate, that fact must hold some merit here.”

“Alright, maybe he was lucid dreamin’ then,” Dean suggests instead, finding any reason for his brother not to be a psychic. 

“It felt different Dean. Real,” Sam shakes his head, eyes focused as he tries to explain, “Like when I dreamt about the old house and Jessica.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense. You’re dreaming about our house, your girlfriend,” Dean points out, “This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before?”

“No,” Sam responds. 

“It doesn't matter if you've actually seen someone they can still be in your dreams because when you're walking around you're subconsciously watching and cataloging them,” I explain, “Though of course you're most likely to have dreams about people you see or think about more often, but still people you pass in real life can be in your dream.” Dean catches my eyes again in the mirror, gazing at me questioningly, “Why do you know so much about dreams?”

I shrug, “I don't know, it’s interesting so I just go down a rabbit hole of information. Plus there are a lot of psychological aspects to dreams which can make them important to analysis.” Dean shakes his head as if shaking away the information, “So why would he have premonitions about some random dude from Michigan.”

I rub my eyes, tiredness still trying to cling to me to the point of my eyes aching, “Yeah I don’t have an answer to that one.” Dean turns his gaze to his brother, silently asking him the same question, “I don’t know,” he answers. “Me neither,” Dean shrugs with one shoulder though it was more done to prove his point.

“Yes I’m here,” Sam says suddenly, pressing the phone closer to his ear. He goes silent, listening, then throws a glare at Dean and picks up his pen, “Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. ‘You have a street address?… Got it. Thanks.” He moves his phone away from him, clicking a button, most likely hanging up, “Checks out. How far are we?”

“From Saginaw? Coupla hours,” Dean answers. “Drive faster.”

The Impala cruises to a stop, Emergency vehicles lined up followed by two medical examiners pushing a stretcher with a body bag on it just being zippered. We were late and it was hard to know whether it was by a couple of minutes or hours, but it didn’t matter because we were late and someone was dead. 

We approach the crowd, a couple of neighbors dressed in their pajamas and a coat watching the scene from behind a line of caution tape. “What happened?” Dean asks a nearby woman. 

“Suicide,” she answers, “Can’t believe it.”

“Did you know them?” Sam questions, moving to the woman’s other side. 

She frowns, “‘Saw him every Sunday at St. Augustine’s,” she replies, oversharing to a couple of strangers but it was helpful so there was no way we would tell her to stop, “He always seems…seemed so normal. I guess you never know what’s going on behind closed doors.”

“Guess not,” Dean acknowledges, looking straight ahead.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say softly, maybe she didn’t know the guy so well but seeing him weekly still meant something. She nods in thanks. 

“How did…uhh” Sam stammers, “How are they saying it happened?” It was a total conversation turn but once more it was necessary. “I heard they found him in the garage, locked inside his car with the engine running,” she answers. Carbon dioxide poisoning from a car makes it hard for it to be an accident so of course the initial thought would be suicide and I doubt it would be easy to prove otherwise with a death like that. 

“Do you know about what time they found him,” Sam pushes and I hope she doesn’t think we’re being weird about this and asking a little too many questions. “Oh, ‘just happened about an hour or two ago,” she says. Frick, frick that wasn’t long ago at all. “His poor family,” she continues, “I can’t even imagine what they’re going through.” I follow her gaze to a woman standing on the front steps crying against a middle-aged man. A young distraught man stands behind them. I could imagine what they were feeling and it was horrible. Grief was not pretty and those feelings were even uglier, leaving a permanent mark on your heart. 

Someone tugs on my sweatshirt sleeve, I follow the motion watching Dean walk away following his brother who had stormed away. I follow them, making the quick walk to the Impala. 

“Sam we got here as fast as we could,” Dean reasons. 

“Not fast enough,” Sam shakes his head, a pained look painted on his face, “It doesn’t make any sense man. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn’t a chance I could stop them from happening.”

I bit my lips, thinking for a moment before speaking, “Maybe it wasn’t about him exactly, like maybe it’s bigger than that. Sometimes that happens, remember what I said about oneiromancy or using dreams to predict the future? Well sometimes it’s not so literal, sometimes it serves as a warning or pointing you in a specific direction for whatever reason. Now I know your whole thing is different and more detailed than that but do you get what I mean?”

He nods, clearly thinking it over. “I don’t know though, I’m no expert but I’m just tryna say to keep it in mind,” I add. He shakes his head and sighs, “So what do you think killed him?”

“Maybe the guy just killed himself?” Dean suggests, “Maybe there’s nothing supernatural going on at all.”

“Then why would he have such a vivid dream of just some random dude dying?” I point out, immediately realizing my contradiction. “I dunno,” Dean shrugs, “Maybe it’s like you said, it’s pointing to somethin’ else.”

“I watched it happen. He was murdered by something. I watched it trap him in the garage,” Sam explains.

“What was it, a spirit, poltergeist, what?” Dean asks in rapid succession. Sam huffs, “I don’t know what it was. I don’t know why I’m having these dreams, I don’t know what the hell is happening!” He was freaking out, totally and utterly freaking out and he had every right to be. “It’s alright Sam,” I say softly, “We’ll figure this out, I promise. ‘No matter how long it takes.”

He sighs, mumbling a “Thanks.” I couldn't imagine what he was feeling, I always knew who I was even if nobody else did. To know one thing your whole life just to be thrown onto a totally new path with no explanation must be terrifying. “What,” Sam says suddenly throwing a look at his brother who was just staring at him. Dean shrugs, “Nothing. I’m just, I’m worried about you man,” he confesses.

“Well don’t look at me like that!” Sam yells. Dean looks away, “I’m not looking at you like anything,” he retorts, glancing back, “Though I gotta say, you do look like crap.”

“Dean. Really?” I say.

“Nice. Thanks,” Sam replies, pursing his lips. With a small smile, Dean moves to the driver's side of the car, pulling the door open, “Come on, let’s just pick this up in the morning. We’ll check out the house, talk to the family.”

“Dean, you saw them, they’re devastated. They’re not going to want to talk to us,” Sam reasons. Dean pauses in thought, “Yeah, you’re right. But I think I know who they will talk to.”

I scoff, “Who?”

I pull open my motel door, the sun shining brightly behind the man in front of me highlighting his stunning green eyes. His arms are hidden behind his back, “What do you have there?” I ask, squinting at him suspiciously. “Oh, just a little somethin’” he smirks devilishly, gazing down at me. 

“You’re scaring me,” I admit, “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” he grins revealing what he was hiding. He holds up a rectangular Halloween costume bag, the classic orange logo on the top, and a blonde woman in a nun costume holding a ruler on the other side. I look between him and the bag his smile never leaving his face a mischievous sparkle in his eye, “Sam and I are going as Preiests so we need our nun,” he explains.

“Tell me you're joking,” I say blankly, my face falling.

“Not at all sweetheart.”

I huff a laugh, pointing at the bag, “I’m not wearing that.”

“You gotta,” he replies.

“No offense to the nuns of the world, but I would rather be shot dead than wear that.”

“‘Cause it’s not cute?” Dean asks though it comes off more like a statement as he knows my answer. “Yes,” I answer flatly, “I’m not wearing that.”

“Maybe I shoulda picked up the slutty one,” he retorts, thinking he got me there. I cross my arms across my chest, wetting my lips, “You should’ve, ‘be good for Halloween,” I counter. Checkmate. He drags his eyes across my frame. my face heats up, “While I’d love to see to that, Halloween is months away and you’re being ridiculous.”

“Still not wearing it,” I say as sternly as I can manage, which isn’t very considering my mind trying to compute what he said. “Come on,” he grumbles, “what am I gonn’ do with a nun costume now?” He pushes past me, stepping deeper into the room. I close the door, turning around, “I don't know, return it? Or use it for one of your one-night stands, I’m sure you’ll find someone kinky enough.”

He looks at me blankly, deadpanning, “You’re wearing it.”

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes”

“I’ll just sit this one out, wait in the car or something ‘till you’re done,” I say.

“You’re wearing it,” he repeats.

“No”

“Yes”

“You’re not winning this one!” I throw my hands up.

“Y/N come on!”

“No!”

He groans, annoyed, “If you wear it I’ll buy you whatever book you want.”

Oh. I mean it’s only a couple of minutes of embarrassment and ugly clothing, “Okay, deal. Fine.” His wide grin returns, he throws the bag at me and I catch it, looking down at it with disgust. “‘Not gonna bite sweetheart,” Dean says as he heads out. 

“Yeah, but I might,” I mumble.

I fixed the Coif on my head for the hundredth time, I should’ve put more bobby pins in my hair. God. How did Nuns wear these? It just digs into your scalp and the most hair you could show was just the very top, probably about three inches, the rest of your hair was hidden along with your ears. It was the least cute or sexy thing to ever exist, faces were not being framed. 

“Quit poutin’, you're supposed to be a Nun, be happy,” Dean comments as he rounds the car.

“I look like I'm going to burn myself at the stake,” I huff.

Sam laughs, having to bite back the noise. “You look fine,” Dean says. I look down at myself, the long black dress covering everything down at my ankles and a strange-looking white squared bib thing around my neck, “Who are you lying to right now!” 

Dean huffs frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“At least you guys look good, like really good,” I say maybe a little too honestly. Sam had his hair all jelled back in a cute little hairdo, he was quite adorable. And on the other side, it really must have been the all-black attire, forget about the clerical cuff and that damn silver ring on his finger that made Dean look so good. Otherwise, there was something deeply wrong with me and I’d have to reevaluate my life, ‘cause there should be no reason for a “Priest” to look so damn fine. Lord, I need help. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” Dean declares. He leads the way crossing the street and walking right up the porch, he rings the doorbell that silver ring glinting in the light. Sam sighs, “This has gotta be a whole new low for us.”

“Amen,” I mumble.

The door opens slowly and I throw away my pout replacing it with a kind smile. The older man from yesterday stands at the door, blocking our view of the rest of the house. Now that it wasn’t dark out and I was far closer, I was able to take note of him: a round-faced man with dark eyebrows and a sort of buzzcut.“Good afternoon,” Dean starts, “I’m Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley, and this is Sister Kathern We’re new junior priests over at St Augustine's. May we come in?”

The man nods, stepping aside. “Thanks,” Dean says entering first. I give the man a polite nod, “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“It’s in difficult times like these when the Lord’s guidance is most needed,” Dean adds.

“Look, you wanna pitch your whole ‘Lord has a plan’ thing? Fine. Just don’t pitch it to me. My brother’s dead,” the man spits, his face wobbling with choked emotion. An older blonde woman appears, her soft hair only reaching her shoulders, her eyes etched in sadness, “Roger. Please!” she lectures. Roger moves away, escaping to some other part of the house, “Excuse me.”

“I’m sorry about my brother-in-law. He’s…he’s just so upset about Jim’s death,” she explains.

“You don’t have to apologize, we completely understand. Everyone grieves differently,” I say sincerely. Her eyes soften, a sad smile on her face, “Would you like some coffee?”

“That would be great,” Dean answers.

****

I sit next to Sam on the loveseat, Dean beside him in an armchair. Ms. Miller pours coffee gently into a couple of little white mugs, she hands one to each of us, “It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now.”

“Of course. After all, we are all God’s children,” Dean replies smoothly, taking a sip of the black coffee. She stands up taking the coffee pot with her. Dean takes that opportunity to shove a bunch of cocktail sausages into his mouth, he was really taking advantage of her leaving food out on a little platter. “What?” he asks with a mouthful of food, responding to his brothers staring. “Just…tone it down a little bit, Father,” he responds.

Ms. Miller returns then, emptyhanded, she sits back down. Dean swallows his mouth full of food before talking again, “So Ms. Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?”

“Nothing like that,” she answers her eyes already tearing up, “We had our ups and downs like everyone but we were happy,” the tears run rapidly down her face, “I just don’t understand…how Jim could do something like this.”

“I’m so sorry you had to find him like that,” Sam replies sincerely. She wipes her tear-stained face, gesturing behind her, “Actually, our son Max, he was the one who found him.”

“Do you mind if maybe, I go talk to him?” Sam asks. 

“Oh thank you, Father,” she musters a sad smile. He rises, following the direction she pointed. 

“Ms.Miller you have a lovely home. How long have you lived here?” Dean inquires.

“We moved in about five years ago,” she answers. 

“The only problem with these old homes, ‘bet it gives you all kinds of headaches,” he comments. Her face washes over in confusion, “Like what?”

“Well, weird leaks, electrical shortages, odd settling noises at night,” he lists, “That kind of thing.”

She shakes her head, “No, nothing like that. It’s been perfect.”

“Huh,” Dean hums, “May I use your restroom?”

“Oh sure, it’s just up the stairs,” she says. He nods, rising and taking another cocktail sausage before leaving. Now I was left to fend for myself in a social situation I wasn't totally prepared for. What do I say? “Is there anything I could do for you that might make you feel better? I understand how hard it is now.”

She tears up again, “I don’t know.” I lean over placing a gentle hand on her arm, “It’s okay…it’s okay," I say softly.

I enter the boy's motel room, following Sam. We had just come back from researching about the Miller’s house. I close and lock the door behind me, so grateful that I had been out of that nun outfit for more than an hour. “What do you have?” Dean asks, his entire arsenal spread out around him as he sits on the edge of the bed cleaning a gun. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he works the weapons, I have to force my gaze away. Men should not be allowed to look good doing random tasks, it wasn’t fair.

“A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built,” Sam answers sinking onto his bed. 

“What about the land?” Dean questions further.

“Nope,” I say, “There were no battles or graveyards, it’s not tribal land and no kind of atrocities happened on or near the property.”

“Hey man I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfer scent. Nada,” Dean adds.

“And the family said everything was normal?” Sam checks.

“Well, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there you think somebody would have noticed something? I used the inferred thermal scanner man, and there was nothing,” Dean answers.

I sigh moving to sit at the end of Sam's bed, “Back to square one.”

“So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?” Sam questions.

“I dunno,” Dean answers truthfully, “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing supernatural about that house.”

Sam gets a pained look in his eyes, bringing his hand up to rub his temples, “Yeah. Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house,” he inhales sharply holding his head, “Maybe it’s just…Gosh,” he clutches his head, “... Maybe its connected to Jim in some other way?”

“Sammy you okay?” I ask, placing a careful hand on his bicep just as Dean says, “What’s wrong with you?” I throw him a sharp glare, way to word it. Sam makes strained pained noises, sinking to the floor, “My head.”

Dean practically jumps from his bed, “Sam? Hey,” he sinks right next to his brother in a crouch grabbing Sam’s arms, “Hey! What’s going on? Talk to me.”

I stand up concern running through my blood, “Sam! Come on!” I've never seen something like this before, it was completely foreign which only made it more terrifying. Dean throws a pleading look at me and I stand not knowing what to do, “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry.” He turns back to his brother, not saying anything as he holds on to him. 

Then, Sam slowly removes his hands from his head, focusing back on reality as he warns, “It’s happening again. Something’s gunna kill Roger Miller.”

My leg bounces in the back seat. once more we were running against an invisible and unknown clock, running to save someone with little to no information given. And once more Sams is on the phone trying to get information quickly that will help us, “Roger Miller. Uh no no, just the address, please. Ok, thanks.” He goes quiet with the information before hanging up and reciting it, “450 West Grove, Apartment 1120.”

“You ok?” Dean asks, eyeing his brother in quick succession.

“Yeah,” he answers in the least convincing tone possible.

“If you’re gunna hurl I’ll pull the car over you know, cause the upholstery…” Dean says, not really joking.

“I’m fine,” Sam answers still not convincingly enough.

“Alright,” Dean shrugs, dropping it.

“Just drive,” he says, looking away. He sighs, “Look, I’m scared, alright? These nightmares weren’t bad enough, now I’m seeing things when I’m awake? And it’s painful.” 

“Come on man, you’ll be all right. It’ll be fine,” Dean comforts in his own way. I wet my lips, choosing my words carefully, “Whatever these abilities are, they’re advancing which is why it’s breaching into day. And because it's leaning more toward psychic abilities it takes a great amount of will, and concentration, and puts a horrible strain on your mind which is why it's painful. But the more you work on it the better it’ll be.”

He turns around in the passenger seat, facing me, “You have telekinesis, right?” I nod, his eyebrows scrunch together, “It hurt when you were first started?”

“God, yes,” I laugh bittersweet, “It just requires so much focus, more so at first, that I had headaches constantly. I tried not to use too much Advil, but they were definitely making a profit off of me, that’s for sure.” He seems to consider the information, turning back in his seat, “Then what is it about the Millers? Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?!”

“I don’t know Sam but we’ll figure it out,” Dean answers, “We’ve faced the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing.”

Sam shakes his head, “No. It’s never been us. It’s never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can’t tell me this doesn’t freak you out, Dean.”

Dean looks straight out the windshield silently, he couldn’t lie because Sam and I both witnessed him freak out before over it. Of course, then we’d all been younger, and he lashed out at me and when he left he hadn’t talked to me or apologized for months, I think it was about five. These sorts of things do freak him out, and sometimes I think the things I’m capable of doing still scare him sometimes, and that's just with someone he's friends with. With his brother, that fear must be a million times worse. “This doesn’t freak me out,” he finally says, lying. 

****

The Impala pulls up across the street from Roger, who approaches his apartment's entrance with a bag of groceries in his hands. Sam rolls down the window swiftly yelling for the man, “Hey Roger.” The man turns around, the annoyance on his face clear as day, “What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone.”

I lean over rolling down the window opposite of where I sit, “Sir this has nothing to do with religion! Trust me.”

“Please,” Sam adds. But Roger is already gone, walking closer to his building. Suddenly the car jerks into motion the engine gunning as it makes a quick turn around, and with a bump Dean jumps the curve hurriedly parking as Sam jumps out running after the man, “Hey. Roger. We’re trying to help! Please! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.”

I get out of the vehicle, round the black car, and head to Sam’s side, Dean following. As Sam reaches the entrance, Roger closes the door behind him, “I don’t want your help.” He walks deeper into the building and in a last-ditch effort Sam yells, “We’re not priests or nuns, you gotta listen to us!”

“Roger, you’re in danger!” Dean yells after him. But of course he doesn't hear them or if he does he just ignores the warnings. God people are so stubborn. “Come on,” Dean suddenly says looking towards a back entrance, he leads the way as we run around the corner of the building to the back entrance, a door in the way. With a quick look around Dean steps back and kicks it open, the door bursts open with a crack. 

Sam jumps for the bottom ladder of the fire escape, using his tall frame to easily reach it, he pulls himself up and starts running for the stairs. Dean turns to me offering me a cupped hand, “You comin’?” he asks. I shake my head, pushing strands of hair behind my ear, “No you go, there isn't enough room for the three of us on that thing, you go. I’ll keep watch. He needs you.”

He looks me over, before nodding and jumping for the ladder, catching up to his brother swiftly. Against my better judgment instead of keeping watch, I look up at them, a hand blocking the sun as they make it up to the second floor. Then all of a sudden there's a heavy squeak and slide of a window followed by a wet squelching noise. Sam freezes, Dean sprints past him and stops looking down at something I can’t see from down here but even so, I know it is Roger’s severed head. 

****

“I’m telling you there was nothing there. No signs either, just like the Miller’s house,” Dean informs, once more the three of us in the car this time driving back to the motel. Sam squints his eyes, slightly, in focus, “I saw something, in the vision, Like a dark shape. Something was…something was stalking Roger.”

“Whatever it was, are you sure it’s not connected to their house?” Dean asks, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. 

“You know that argument doesn't really hold up anymore considering Roger died in his apartment,” I answer fidgeting with my fingers, “So it could be the family itself.”

“So you think, like a vengeful spirit?” Sam questions.

“Well yeah,” Dean responds, “There’s a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years.”

“Angiak. Banshees,” Sam lists out examples.

“Wouldn’t you have still picked up on something when you were snooping around?” I ask this time, looking up from my hands. “No, I was thinking somethin’ more like a curse,” Dean explains, “Maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse-worthy.”

Sam hums, adding to the working theory, “And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying…Hey, you think Max is danger?”

“Let’s figure it out before he is,” Dean remarks. Sam sighs, “Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people.”

“What’s that?” Dean asks.

“Both our families are cursed,” Sam says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. I frown, one because he feels that way and two because I dislike when people say that. Dean huffs, “Our family’s not cursed! We just…had our dark spots…”

“Our dark spots are…pretty dark,” Sam nods slowly. Dean eyes him, “You’re….dark.”

I scuff, “Well as dark as it was you don’t have to worry, curses aren’t real.”

Sam turns around in his seat, facing me, “You’re a witch and you don’t believe in curses?”

I tilt my head giving him a ‘really?’ look, “That’s not what I meant, of course those kinds of curses exist they are very real and palpable things,” I wet my lips, “What I meant is that this curse you suggest to be the reason why you suffered misfortune isn’t real and that goes for everybody. Bad things just happen. And I know you probably weren’t being too literal but still blaming bad things on curses doesn’t help you in the long run it just serves as an excuse for you not to face your problems and acknowledge the real issue.”

Sam looks at me with slightly wide eyes and when I look at Dean, his expression is more or less the same if not even more, “What?” I ask eyeing the two of them. Sam turns back around in his seat a small smirk on his face, Dean gives a little shrug, “Nothin’, just someone’s using their psychology degree.”

I snort, suddenly getting shy, “Shut up,” I mumble. The thing was I wasn’t using my psychology degree this was just me, not that I was embarrassed by my degree. I took education very seriously, especially college. So of course I wound up double majoring, one in criminal justice and the other in psychology, but could you blame a girl? Either way, I didn't like when people said things like that, blaming something on a force they didn’t understand and had no real play in any of it.

I pull down the sleeves of the black Nun dress, readjusting the material, “I hope you know this is another book,” I say closing the car door behind me. Dean seems to round the Impala quicker at that, “What?! No, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

I purse my lips, “Yes, but when we made that deal it was under the presumption that it would only happen once in this case. And yet, here we are again.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something more but his brother cuts him off, “Wait, you guys made a deal?”

I smile triumphantly, “Yup!”

Sam frowns a little pout to his lips, his puppy-dog eyes turned down, “Man,” he whines, “I should’ve made a deal.”

“You should’ve,” I respond, thinking for a moment, “You know what? I will extend my second book to you, you are now included!”

He shakes his head, “No Y/N it's okay, have your books.”

Now I shake my head, “No no I want to, nothing would bring me more joy than the three of us going to a bookstore, and while Dean impatiently waits for us and grumbles to himself we get to wreak havoc and choose books!” Sam smiles with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “That does sound like a good idea.”

“You’re an evil woman,” Dean grumbles.

I smile sweetly at him, “I prefer ‘wicked’ but I guess that’s close enough.”

He eyes me for a beat, tongue against cheek as if he is contemplating saying something but ultimately he looks away, “We’re meant to be checking in on Max.”

Oh, “Yeah,” I say leading the way. “See, this always happens,” he states, reaching my side in one stride.

“What happens?” Sam asks.

“Whenever you two are together we get nothing done,” he elaborates. I fake a hurt gasp, “That’s so not true!” I mean we could be annoying, sure, but that was our whole job especially since we’re younger siblings it’s just how it works. 

We reach the door and he knocks before anyone can say anything more on the topic. Instead of Ms. Miller answering the door her son, Max, does. He opens the door wider, “My Mom’s resting, she’s pretty wrecked.”

“Of course,” Dean nods, stepping deeper into the house.

“All these people kept coming with like, casseroles?” Max says, making small talk, “I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know 'cause nothing says I’m sorry like a tuna casserole.” I bite back my laugh, very poorly, he caught it giving a smile back to me and Sam who was also grinning at the joke. Max gestures to the seating area his mom put us just earlier today, and just like then we all take the same seats, but this time it's Max in front of us. 

A beat of silence goes on before Sam sighs, speaking softly he asks, “How ‘you holding up?”

His face drops a little, answering with a small, “Ok.”

“You’re Dad and your uncle were close,” Sam follows up, stating instead of asking.

He shrugs, “Yeah, I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little.”

“But not much lately?” Sam asks.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” he shifts in his seat, “We used to be neighbors when I was a kid before we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time.” 

“Right. So how was it in that house when you were a kid?” Sam questions further. 

“It was fine. Why?” Max answers, dismissively. He was uncomfortable, something about that old house made him uneasy. 

“All good memories? Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?” Dean asks this time, skepticism written in his voice. Max shakes his head, slight panic crawling in his irises, “What do yo…..why do you ask?”

I recognized that panic. Knew it well. I remember wearing it, how it crawled over my skin. “Don’t worry it’s just a question,” I nod, noting his behavior.

“No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy,” he replies suddenly more sure of his answer.

“Good. That’s good,” Dean answers, “Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off.”

Catching on Sam nods, “Right,” he looks back at Max, “thanks.”

Max eyes us, something between panic and questioning, “Yeah.”

****

We make it to the Imapla before debriefing, the panic in his eyes burning into my retinas. 

“No one’s family is totally normal and happy,” Dean starts, pointing out the faults of Max’s response, “See when he was talking about his old house?”

“He sounded scared,” Sam answers sadly.

A chill runs up my spine, “More than that, he was petrified. And I don’t think it has anything to do with the house…”

“Yeah, Max isn’t telling us everything,” Dean agrees, “I say we go find the old neighborhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers.”

I shift my footing, fixing my pants (which I was glad to be in again) as I watch the older man named Rob in front of us. “Have you lived in the neighborhood very long?” Sam asks him.

“Yeah, almost 20 years now. It’s nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy,” he answers and I can’t tell if he wants us to be interested or wishes to keep out outsiders. Maybe the earlier, he seems kind.

“No, no,” Sam smiles, “Actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street I believe.”

“Yeah, the Millers. They had a little boy called Max,” Dean adds.

“Yeah I remember,” he responds, “The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what’s this about, is that poor kid ok?” That makes me stumble over my thoughts, “He….um, I’m sorry why did you word it like that?”

Rob frowns, “Well in my life I’ve never seen a child treated like that. I mean I’d hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street, he was a mean drunk.” My skin curls up, my fears confirmed. My heart recoils, cowering away from the information and the thoughts. “He used to beat the tar outta Max. Bruises. Broke his arm two times that I know of,” Rob continued. 

I take a subconscious step backward. I don’t understand, if he knew why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he call the police?

“This was going on regularly?” Sam asks, his voice firm.

“Practically every day. In fact that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy but the worst part was the sepmother. She’d just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good.”

I suddenly feel nauseous. He was finally free now but that was too many years too late.

“Now you said stepmother,” Dean says for confirmation. How could he not be reacting to this information?

“I think his real mother died. Some sorta…accident. Car accident I think,” Rob answers.

Suddenly Sam clutches his head again, grimacing. Rob looks at him strangely, “Are you okay there?”

He winces, “Uh, yeah.” Dean holds the crook of his brother's arm, leading him away as he throws back a “Thanks for your time.”

I blink out of what feels like a daze, mustering a smile for the man, “Have a nice day,” I say before catching up to the boys. But my feet feel heavy, as if cylinder blocks had been tied to my ankles. My intestines seem to twist itself into a knot, wrapped around like a bow. I clutch my shirt where my stomach is, my heart seems to beat faster an unnerving feeling settling itself into the vessels. I could hardly focus on my tense body and anxious thoughts when Sam’s head lulls back, his eyes doing that thing where you can tell he isn’t here with us right now. He’s somewhere else, having a vision.

****

I want to curl into myself and shy away from the current case. But we were in the Impala driving back to the Millers house and Sam still had to tell us about his vision. “Max is doing it. Everything I’ve been seeing,” Sam reveals. I should be surprised but I’m not, maybe it’s because of the newfound information.

“You sure about this?” Dean asks, almost skeptical. 

“Yeah, I saw him,” he confirms.

“How is he doing it?” I ask carefully. 

“I think telekinesis,” Sam answers. 

“What so he’s psychic?” Dean questions, definitely skeptical.

“I didn’t even realize it but this whole time, he was there. He was outside the garage when his Dad died, he was in the apartment when his Uncle died,” Sam elaborates, “These visions, this whole time–I wasn’t connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. I guess—because we’re so alike?”

“What are you talking about? The dude’s nothing like you,” Dean responds firmly.

“Well,” Sam tries to reason, “We both have psychic abilities, we both…”

“Both what? Sam, Max is a monster, he’s already killed two people, now he’s gunning for a third,” Dean exclaims. This was all getting very complicated very fast. “He’s not a monster he’s a kid. It isn’t his fault, he’s a product of his messed up childhood,” I defend, my voice filled with perhaps a little too much emotion.

“With what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people? I’m sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it’s not that insane,” Sam adds, agreeing. I nod vigorously, it isn’t insane, not one bit.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t justify murdering your entire family!” Dean yells, his voice louder than needed.

“No of course not. But clearly, no one else was caring about him. No one made any effort to help him, not even the police! So you must understand why he felt like he needed to take justice into his own hands,” I argue. This was complicated, this was human. And humans, human feelings get messy very quickly.

“You're suggesting he's a necessary evil?” Dean counters, his voice gruff and on edge.

“Maybe, yeah,” I answer, crossing my arms across my chest. The car jerked right, driving up to the curb in front of the Miller’s house. “He’s no different from anything else we’ve hunted, all right? We gotta end him,” Dean lectured.

“We’re not going to kill Max,” Sam and I say at the same time, our voices overlapping. “He’s a kid!” I add.

“Then what?” Dean counters, “Hand him over to the cops and say ‘Lock him up officer; he kills with the power of his mind.’” 

I huff, “That’s not the point and you know it. We can talk him down, he isn’t a monster and I highly doubt he would kill just for fun. He’s angry and he’s hurt, he needs help. If we do that then we are just as bad as his uncle and his dad and the cops that refused to help.”

He shuts the engine off, pursing his lips and shaking his head, “All right fine. But I’m not letting him hurt anybody else.” Yet, despite his words he leans over to the glove compartment and pulls out a pistol. He glares at Sam as he gets out of the car. I catch his eyes, “Dean.” He looks at me, challenging me, before ultimately getting out and tucking the gun into the back of his pants. I roll my eyes, tongue in cheek, pissed. I get out of the car, joining the boys but not before slamming the car door behind me.

We run up the porch, Sam in the lead. He knocks on the door, and when no response comes he leans over the railing peeking in the window. He looks back at us and he does not have to say anything for us to know what was happening. Max was going to kill his Stepmother.

Without thinking any further, Dean raises his leg to kick the door in. I stop him, “Dude way to be inconspicuous. Let me.” He backs up a few steps, hands raised in defeat. I grasp the cold knob of the door, not needing to put much effort into getting the door unlocked. We rush into the kitchen, where Sam said Max would do it. Ms. Miller presses her back closer against the counters, her eyes wide and filled with tears and fear as she watches her son in front of her. Her eyes snap to us, “Fathers? Sister?” Ironically enough, we weren’t dressed up instead in normal clothes which I wasn’t sure if priests and nuns ever did. Max spins around, poorly concealing the large knife behind his back, his hair is a mess and his eyes match his stepmothers in fear after all he was caught. “What are you doing here?” he asks, afraid.

“Uhh, sorry to interrupt,” Dean answers awkwardly. 

“Max, can we, uh, can we talk to you outside for just one second?” Sam leads, fumbling for an excuse. He eyes us, he doesn’t trust us, “About what?”

“It’s….it’s private. I wouldn’t want to bother your mother with it,” Sam lies, “We won’t be long at all though, I promise” he says directing it to Ms.Miller. Max looks back at his stepmom and then at us, “Ok.”

“Great,” Sam smiles. 

We turn to leave, making it out of the kitchen and to the front door. Dean takes the lead with his hand grasping the doorknob, pulling it open he smiles back at Max awkwardly. Then all of a sudden the doorknob is pulled from his grasp and the door slams shut, followed by the dropping of all the blinds for each window. Impressive. I turn around swiftly watching Max as he backs up, “You’re not priests! Or a nun,” he yells. 

Dean draws his gun quickly, but without even moving a muscle Max uses his powers to pull the gun away, it slides across the floor and he crouches down to take it. He stands up tall, pointing the gun at us. Dean nudges me slightly behind him, I want to shove my way in front of him but he holds his arm out in front of me and I don’t feel the need to argue now of all times. Ms.Miller appears in the archway between where we are and the kitchen, “Max, what’s happening?”

“Shut up,” he bites.

“What are you doing?” she repeats, approaching carefully. Removing one hand from the gun he swings his arm towards her, using his power to send her flying back into the kitchen, she hits her head against the kitchen bench before sliding down to the floor. “I said shut up!” he yells at her unconscious figure. 

“Max calm down,” Sam says steadily, holding his hands up in defeat. 

“Who are you?” Max snaps.

“We just wanna talk,” Sam responds with instead. Max scuffs, “Yeah right, that’s right you bought this!” he motions with the weapon. Sam takes a careful step forward, “That was a mistake, all right? So was lying about who we were. But no more lying Max, okay? Just please, just hear me out.”

He eyes us carefully, “About what?”

“I saw you do it,” Sam explains, carefully, “I saw you kill your Dad and your Uncle before it happened.”

“What?” Max questions.

“I’m having visions Max, about you,” Sam elaborates.

“You’re crazy,” Maxx huffs.

“So what, you weren’t gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?” He challenges, taping his eye, “Right here? Is it that hard to believe Max, look what you can do. Max I was drawn here, all right? I think I’m here to help you.”

His hold on the gun tightens as fresh tears run down his face rapidly, “No one can help me.”

“That’s not true,” I say softly, “I know it feels that way now, and I’m sorry it does. But if anyone can help,” I look at Sam, “It’s him,” I look back at Max, “Please.”

Sam nods, wetting his lips, “Let me try. We’ll just talk, me and you. We’ll get Dean, Y/N, and Alice out of here.”

“Uh-huh. No way,” Dean intervenes. The chandelier above us rattles, “Nobody leaves this house!” Max yells. I want to cut in, I could contain him in a matter of seconds a minute at best. He was skilled, but I certainly knew more than he did. Yet I know I can’t do anything, he’s scared so rushing him with my abilities won’t help. Treating him like a monster won’t help. 

“And nobody has to, all right? They’ll just…they’ll just go upstairs,” Sam reasons, but the light fixture continues to rattle.

“Sam, I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Dean mutters.

“Yes, you are,” Sam answers firmly, “Look, Max. You’re in charge here, all right, we know that. No one's going to do anything that you don’t want to do but I’m talking five minutes here man.”

“Sam!” Dean intervenes again. I place a hand on his upper arm, gaining his attention fast and without words, not wanting to scare Max off, I give him a look and a nod silently telling him that his brother will be okay and that he can handle himself. His lip twitches as if he’s fitting off a scowl.

“Five minutes?” Max asks, the chandelier stops shaking, “Go” he nods to his stepmother.

I walk carefully behind Dean, waiting for him as he picks up Ms. Miller, I lead the way up the wooden stairs entering the master bedroom. Dean lays her down carefully, and I find the bathroom attached to the room. I quickly go through the drawers finding a small washcloth, carefully I wet it and ring it out before walking back into the bedroom to find Dean pacing the room, hand by his face. I approach him carefully, he stops his pacing when I step in front of him but worry is written clearly in his eyes, and in the way he hasn’t stopped biting his thumbs nailbed, a habit he exhibited only when he was worried about Sammy. 

I raise my free hand to him, pulling it away from his mouth, “He’ll be okay, he knows what he's doing.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything as he takes the washcloth from me before moving past me, he crouches in front of Ms.Miller, lightly pressing the cloth to the small wound on her forehead. He was distracting himself.

I frown. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in his brother, he was just worried. For as much as this was for Sam it was nearly too much for Dean too, he might not be going through it but he was watching someone else navigate the messy plains of powers and the pain that came with it…that was scary. Especially since Dean has always taken his job as an older brother very seriously, doing anything and everything for him no matter the cost, he was meant to be his protector but with these newfound abilities Dean didn’t know how to help, how to protect his little brother– and that scared him.

I cross my arms across my chest, trying to think of what to say when I hear movement heading towards us. I turn towards the door, it creaks open slowly, Max’s figure standing right at the doorway the gun clutched in his hand at his side. I give him a questioning look, but his face is determined and there’s no Sam.

There’s no Sam.

Panic settles in my veins and before I can react Dean is standing in front of me, pushing me further behind him before he takes purposeful steps towards Max. The door slams shut and suddenly Dean goes flying left, barreling into the wall. Oh, two can play that game.

“Max!” Ms.Miller yells from behind me, having woken up in the short time her son arrived. Max points the gun at me with shaky hands, “Move,” he commands. I bring my powers forward, flicking it on, “Do you want to try?” I warn bitterly. He laughs, shaking, “Do you think you’re like me too?”

I assume Sam must have said something about that to him downstairs, “No,” I answer softly. He raises his other hand at me, flicking it to the left trying to send me flying too but I don’t budge. He looks confused and tries again but once more I don’t move. “Max please just put the gun down, this isn’t the way, I promise you,” I reason.

“You don’t get it!” he yells, shaking. I smile at him sadly, holding up my hands in defeat, “Dad drinks and he gets mean,” I say, “You think he doesn’t mean it, he’s just grieving. But it happens one too many times and you get scared.”

His resolve weakens and tears run down his face, “Your Dad?” He isn’t sure whether he should believe me or if I'm just lying to talk him down. I take a quick look over at Dean, who still lies on the floor looking at me with eyes wide, I never told him and I don’t think he ever knew.

I look back at Max, “Yes. My brother took most of it for me, but I reminded him too much of my mother and she was gone while I lived and that was not fair,” I swallow roughly, “I didn’t think he was capable. My mom loved him and he was never like that when she was around, but they did always say she softened him so maybe that’s why.”

“What did you do?” he asks, lowering the gun just a little. I go quiet and he does not like that, he raises the gun again, “Did you kill him?!” he screams.

I shake my head, “No. He managed that all by himself, he grew very careless.”

His eyes scrunch together in confusion, “Did you want to?”

I shake my head again, “No, I didn’t want to be like him. Didn’t want to stoop to his level. My brother though…he, um, I think he wanted to. But he didn’t. When he died, I didn’t cry at his funeral, I wasn’t as sad as I knew I should’ve been, and that alone makes me feel so guilty…” I take a careful deep breath trying to blink away the tears, “Please put the gun down, I know you're angry, you have every right to be. And I know you’re scared but doing this. It won’t help.”

“How do you know!” he screams, his face red, but it comes out weak.

“He’s dead and I’m still scared sometimes,” I admit out loud for the first time, tears slipping down my cheeks as my powers revert to it’s resting stage, “I think I hear his voice or that I see him in a crowd, and I know it’s not really him. But my heart picks up and I think he’s there, and I know what that means and I get scared.”

He looks at me, really looks at me and it is like looking in a mirror, our pain reflecting in each other. He lets go of the gun, but it doesn’t hit the floor instead it floats in front of him, “I’m not you, I won’t sit back and take it. She has to die, they all had to.”

His words feel like a stab to my hurt but I ignore them, “No, Max, please. It won’t help.” I don’t look away from him but even so, I hear Dean standing up and I can feel him getting closer. He puts himself in front of me again, I try to get him behind me, a gun wouldn’t exactly kill me, but he looks down at me his green eyes hard. He moves me behind him, looking back at Max, “You wanna kill her you gotta go through me first.” 

“Fine,” he says. Just as the door busts open, Sam comes barreling in, “No don’t! Don’t! Please. Please,” Sam begs, “Max. Max. We can help you. All right.”

I move away from Dean despite the arm that he holds out to stop me from getting closer. Max is shaking, and sweaty, and tears run down his face rapidly. He looks at Sam with anguish, then his gaze turns to me eyes filled with a familiar pain. But his shoulders suddenly drop, and his face clears, “You’re right. It won’t stop.”

The floating gun points at himself. A loud bang rings in the room. Bits of blood splatter on my face. His body crumbles to the floor, a hole in his head.

I stare blankly at a spot on the floor, a small swirl in the wooden floors. Sirens whirl just outside, and cops stand all around us. His body was brought out in a bag. Yellow caution tape sections off parts of the house. Something light was placed in my hand, something to clean the…

Muffled voices sing near me.

He’s dead. I couldn’t convince him, if anything I made it worse. I should’ve said it gets better because it does and it’s not that common that I get scared, I can’t. Not with this job. But I didn’t want to lie and I made it worse.

I feel sick. 

I couldn’t help.

He didn’t want to be like me. He’s dead.

He didn’t want to be like me and I didn’t want to be my father and he’s dead. They are both dead and I live.

I live and Dad would say it’s not fair. He’s dead. 

A familiar hand nudges me forward, I walk automatically without hearing the voices. Something about…

He’s dead.

The car door opens and I sit inside, automatically putting the seat belt on. Someone says something and the door closes, voices say something outside, and then doors open and close. The car moves forward, the sirens get further away. Eyes look at me and I look at him.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

His body floats away as it burns like a Viking. He hugs me closer to him and we do not cry. We are free sometimes.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

He said it won't stop and there’s a bang.