#sam winchester x daughter!reader

[ellieslittleburrow]

Requested by : @outof-spite : You're going through a rough time and a hard breakup all while you and your father, Sam Winchester are fighting. But you need him and he acknowledges that.

Pairings : Dad!Sam Winchester x Daughter!reader

Warnings : none just a cute dad

A/N : So so sorry 🤍🤍 MUCH LOVE I HOPE IT'S NOT TOO BORING.

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You've lost yourself, your person, your anchor, the girl who knew you best. Not only was she your lover. But she was also your first. And that somehow made it worse?? What a great ending, huh?

And there you were now, alone in your room, the walls closing in on you as your breath shortened-quickened.

Thankfully, your uncle taught you his tiny little trick to calm yourself down. And your dad? Your other anchor? Well-that one has fallen down to the bottom of the ocean. Ehhh....So many stupid fights lately that you didn't care why you weren't talking anymore.

So as you slipped your headphones over your head, you opened your favorite app, thumb sliding upwards in a never-ending motion. Phoebe Bridgers thundered into your ears and that was just about enough for you...not really but whatever.

---

Elsewhere down the hall, Sam and Dean shared the long wooden table in the study. As Sam blabbered about the upcoming case, rummaging through the dozens of papers before him, Dean sipped his beer, a stinging, avoidant look in his eyes.

"Dean, this is your case not mine!" Sam remarked, earning a slow head shake from Dean, reeking of disappointment.

"Do you not realize that your daughter is probably bawling her eyes out in the other room?"

Sam retreated back into his seat, running a hand through his hair. "I can't-I don't want to keep doin-"

"Damn your fights, Sammy. This is serious. She needs you, man-she needs her dad."

Dean proved a point. And Sam didn't need to be reminded of such evident statements but..maybe he did need the push?

And so after the longest exhale, he pushed the seat back and headed for your room, knocking on the door before entering-

The light emitting from your phone shone your face as it rested so closely to it. Dad always growled at you and pushed the phone down. "Do you need that damned thing so close to your eyes?" He'd always ask and you never, without fail, responded normally. You'd always roll your eyes at him and he...he missed that.

So as he walked up to your bed, he gently pushed the phone downward, earning an expected shriek from you.

----

Your heart hammered in your chest as you shrieked, not having realized that you were no longer alone in the room. You yanked one side of your headphones back, surprised to find your dad towering over you.

"Do you always have to have that thing so close to your face??"

You rolled your eyes in response. Unsure of what to say. Or how to say it? Protectively, you wrapped your arms around your chest, drifting your eyes away.

You haven't spoken to your dad in a...day? It honestly felt like years. But having him here somehow caused an ache to claw at your chest. And you felt a lump grow at your throat. You could never lie to him. He knows about everything. He....He's your...Hell....you can't talk now.

"W...what happened?"

You shrugged your shoulders, fighting the simmering tears.

"Well-do you want to talk about it?"

You shrugged again, temptation eating at you. "Well..." You breathed out. "She...I..Sh-She-" You choked on a sob, unable to form a thought, let alone a whole phrase. She's not here anymore and it hurts. "I miss her al-already." You breathed out a cry that stretched into a long wail. Your teeth dug into your lower lip to stop yourself, but that only made it worse.

Your dad pulled you off the bed and guided you to stand before him. "Come here… honey-it's okay." He slid the headphones off of your head and tossed them onto the bed. Then, before pulling you into his arms, he guided your hands under his jacket and around his waist. "Here-baby."

"You don't geet it, dad-"

"I do-honey, believe me i do." He cupped your chin, and playfully swung your head left and right. You closed your eyes, giving up on the fight against the tears. Your heart ached , so did your head and your stomach and ffffff...everything.

But your dad seemed to get the message, no longer trying to comfort you with words. There wasn't much he could say to make you feel better. His presence already did...a little. A lot but a little. And as you sniffled and swallowed, your dad rubbed circles around your back.

"Does this mean we no longer hate each other?" You asked with a giggle.

It was your dad's turn to roll his eyes, not seemi'g to realize that it was a joke "Don't say stuff like that- i never hated you. I love you. I'm here for you- Always."

------

Ummm- LIAR DAD???? DEAN HAD TO PUSH YOU. BUT WHATEVER. Hehe, wrote half of this while waiting to get the rabies shot. I loved writing it and i'm sorry it took so looong 🥀🥀🥀🖤🖤🖤

[imbadatwrighting]

Okay, okay, hear me out!! HEAR ME OUT YOU GUYS 👹!! So we all love some good old fashioned bimbo!reader (or at least I do) BUT I don’t ever see any platonic bimbo!readers. Like just being these tough guys little sister who just embodies a little fawn or rabbit. Like imagine Sam and Dean with a little sister whose closet is filled with only pink, needs stuffed animals to sleep, constantly asking Sam for help with homework or begging Dean to learn how to use a gun (but they all know that’s a terrible idea). And you definitely know bimbo!reader would be their grounding force keeping them off the edge. Like am I the only deranged person who ever thought of this?? (Or at least liked the idea of it 😭)

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

A Father’s Love?

Sam Winchester & daughter!reader, Dean Winchester & niece!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You (9-10) are left alone with your dad, who currently is missing his soul, and it doesn’t go well

Update: part 2 is here

“Uncle De, please don’t go.” Your voice was low as you tried to keep your dad—who was in the bathroom—from hearing. “I-I don’t wanna be alone with him.”

Dean felt awful for leaving you like this, but he had no choice. You hadn’t been comfortable with Sam since the moment you’d found out he was back—the same time Dean did. You’d been living with Dean, Lisa, and Ben, and when Sam revealed that he’d been back all along, you instantly didn’t trust him. Dean had been angry, sure, but somehow he just hadn’t seen what you had—that your dad wasn’t really himself.

Of course, eventually the three of you—including Sam, who hadn’t been sure what was wrong with him—discovered the truth: he was soulless. As soon as Dean find out, he felt horrible for not understanding your hesitance before. Now that he knew, he tried to avoid leaving you alone with Sam whenever possible, especially since he didn’t really trust Sam without a soul.

But sometimes it was unavoidable.

“Kiddo, you know I don’t have a choice,” Dean said.

“I don’t like it here with him,” you insisted, refusing to let go of Dean’s sleeve. “He-he’s like daddy’s evil twin or something.”

Dean swallowed. “Sweetheart, he’s not evil, ok? He’s just a little weird right now.”

“Daddy’s weird,” you argued. “This guy is bad.”

Dean ran a hand over his face.

“Baby, please. You know I have to go. He’s gonna be good, I promise, and soon enough he’s gonna be back to regular-old dad, I swear.”

Dean left without another word, and the silence that hung in the motel room was deafening.

“Dean left?” Sam asked as he exited the bathroom. You ignored his question—he didn’t actually care, after all—and you went to sit on your bed. You could feel Sam’s eyes on you as you went. The motel stayed the worst kind of silence as you pretended to read while Sam just stared at you.

“What do you want?” You demanded finally, dropping the book. Your voice was nowhere near as firm as you wanted it to be.

“You hate me.” It wasn’t a question.

“You hated me first.” Unlike Sam, you couldn’t look at him while you accused him. Even without looking at the shell that used to be your dad, you could feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes as you waited for him to speak.

“I don’t hate you,” he huffed. “I mean, I don’t particularly care about you, but I don’t hate you.”

Somehow, apathy was even worse.

“Just leave me alone,” you mumbled. You shouldn’t have been surprised when Sam shrugged and obeyed. You felt your eyes drifting to him as he pulled a beer from the fridge and took it to his bed. His eyes caught yours and he frowned.

“What? You said leave you alone.”

“Dad wouldn’t have listened,” you mumbled, but Sam heard you anyway.

“Well, I’m not your dad,” Sam shrugged. “I’m not Sam, not anymore.”

“Ok.” You turned to face away from him. “Now I mean it. Leave me be.”

But Sam was suddenly intrigued, and he ignored your request.

“You and Dean wanted me to stop pretending to be him. This is just me not pretending.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like you,” you said, your eyes downcast.

“Exactly, and I don’t like you either. I mean, you’re kind of a brat.”

“I told you to leave me alone,” you said, finally looking up.

“You beg Dean to keep you with him all the time like I’m gonna hurt you or something, it’s pathetic.” Sam seemed to be getting a real kick out of finally saying all that he’d been thinking over the past few weeks.

“I said leave me alone!” You yelled at him, but he didn’t listen.

“I mean, I remember caring about you when I was that other guy, I just…I just can’t remember why.”

“Go away! Leave me be!” You were on your feet now, shoving and pushing at Sam, but the giant man didn’t even flinch.

“I mean your just a little pest!”

“Stop it! Just go away!”

Crying, overwhelmed, and so unbelievably hurt, you started to slap at the guy who used to be your dad, smacking his neck, his face, whatever you could reach. Suddenly, Sam wasn’t having so much fun anymore.

“Hey!” Though your slaps had little effect on him, one harsh blow from Sam had you flat on your back, dazed and breathing hard. You could still feel the impact of his palm against your cheek, and you couldn’t scramble away from him fast enough.

“If you’re gonna give it out, you should be prepared to take it,” Sam muttered gruffly.

You were on your feet in an instant, and you were out the door before you’d even made the decision to leave.

“Hey!” You could hear your dad—no, not your dad—following after you, and you barely made it five steps out of the room before his arms were around you and dragging you back in.

“Stop it!” You were crying now, and you couldn’t remember when you’d started. “Let me go!”

“If I lose you, Dean’s never gonna help me,” Sam grunted, shoving you back into the room and closing the door behind him. “So how about we all just calm down here.” It wasn’t a request; it was a command. “You don’t hit me, I won’t hit you.”

That would’ve sounded reasonable enough, if not for one thing—your desperate smacks to his skin had done nothing to him, they hadn’t even hurt, but you could already feel the side of your face swelling where he’d hit you. But you didn’t argue with Sam. You didn’t even speak. You just sat on your bed and turned your back on him, pulling your legs up to your chest and burying your face in your knees so you could cry in peace.

Sam left you alone for several minutes, but his sudden hand on your shoulder had you flinching back violently and scrambling away from him.

“Would you calm down?” Sam huffed as he let go. He was holding out a frozen bag of peas. “Put this on it.”

You took it hesitantly and slowly pressed the cold bag to your face.

“Look…” Sam’s hand was back on your shoulder, only now his giant fingers were right at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, and they were squeezing way too hard. “Dean would kill me if he figured out what happened, ok? And he certainly wouldn’t be helping me anymore. So maybe…maybe you just tell him you fell in the shower or something, ok?” He said it like a question, but the grip on your shoulder and the ice in his eyes told the truth; he expected you to lie to Uncle Dean, and you didn’t know what he’d do if you didn’t.

“Ok,” you whispered, and his hand was gone in an instant.

“Ok,” he said firmly.

Then he turned his back on you and left you alone to cry.

…

The swelling was down by the time Dean returned, but you’d looked in the mirror long enough to see a black and purple bruise forming along almost one whole side of your face.

You resisted the urge to run to your uncle the moment he stepped in the door—if you acted scared, he would figure it out, and Sam would be mad. Instead, you stayed where you were with your head down, your hair covering most of the bruise.

“Hey,” Dean greeted. “You guys ok?”

“We’re fine,” Sam said simply. You’d been hoping that he would lie for you, so you didn’t have to, but he seemed content to leave things quiet.

“You sure?” Dean was watching you now, noticing your uncharacteristic silence.

“I’m ok,” your voice was hoarse from crying, and Dean wasn’t fooled.

“What’s wrong?” Dean was in front of you in an instant, brushing your hair behind your ears. His hand recoiled when he saw the bruise. “What happened?”

“I—“ you looked up to face Dean, and your voice caught in your throat when you saw Sam staring daggers at you from behind your uncle’s shoulder. “I f-fell.”

“Fell?” Dean frowned.

You nodded. “In-in the shower.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was dangerously quiet. “Out. Now.”

“Me?” When had Sam become such a good actor? He looked as innocent as ever. “What did I do?”

Despite his acting, Dean wasn’t buying it for a minute.

“Get out! I need to talk to her alone.”

The moment Sam was out the door, Dean was tilting your chin up with a feather-light hand at your chin.

“He hit you, didn’t he.” Dean wasn’t asking.

“I fell,” you lied, the tears in your eyes giving you away.

“Don’t lie for him,” Dean pleaded. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t kick him out,” you pleaded. “We-we have to help him get his soul back. This isn’t him, Uncle Dean.”

“I know it’s not,” Dean sighed. “But I need you to be safe.”

“I’ll be safe when my dad is back.”

…

“You stay away from her.” Dean didn’t give Sam a chance to speak when he let him back into the room.

“Fine.” Sam was done lying—it hadn’t done any good.

“And if you ever touch her again, you’re gone, understand?”

Sam didn’t look happy, but he couldn’t argue.

“I understand.”

…

You slept in Dean’s bed that night—you hadn’t shared a bed with your father since he came back soulless—and Sam went out to do whatever it was that he did while you guys slept. Apparently being soulless meant you didn’t sleep.

“Are you ok?” Dean asked. “And don’t lie to me.”

“It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore,” you mumbled. “I just…I just miss him.”

Dens pulled you into his arms as you started to cry.

“I know, sweetheart. I miss him too. We’re gonna get him back, ok? I promise.”

“Ok Uncle Dean.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

[castiwls]

brother, brother - d.w

Paring; dean & sister!reader

Synopsis; John Winchester was never a great father but where he failed someone else stepped up

Warnings; none

Notes; this has been sitting in my drafts for ages omg

masterlist

You smiled at your brother as he appeared beside you, beers in hand. He passed one to you as he took a seat on the bonnet beside you. “Thanks.” You smiled before taking a sip. Your brother nodded before taking a sip of his own drink. 

“Remember how dad flipped the first time dad caught you drinking? Man, I think I saw fire in his eyes.” Your brother chuckled turning his head to take at you. “Oh yeah. I think that was the first time I ever faced his wrath.” You joked bumping shoulders with him. “I think I was too drunk to truly care to be completely honest.”

“You were a mess. I spent most of that night awake in case you were sick.” He shook his head. “Then you actually were sick.” He rolled his eyes. You grimaced slightly. “Please don’t remind me,” You took another sip. “Being sick on the floor in front of my younger brother was bad enough. I think I traumatised Sam that day.” 

Dean laughed. “Traumatised Sam!? It was me who had to clean it up, missy.” He exclaimed. “And I was very thankful you did.” You joked before looking out into the empty field. 

Your childhood was a touchy subject. Something which all three of you chose not to talk about unless necessary. Growing up you’d always known that your home life was less than normal, that your dad never acted in the way you saw dad’s on the TV act.

As you’d grown up you’d simply come to the conclusion that maybe John Winchester was never meant to be a dad, sure for the first two years of your life he’d played the part but even then you knew it wasn’t perfect. 

“You look like you're thinking quite hard there, you okay?” Dean bumped his shoulder with you drawing you back into the present. “I’m fine, just thinking…” You trailed off looking down at the drink in your hands. You felt your brother wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

You both fell back into a comfortable silence for a moment before you turned your head to face him “You were more of a father to me than he ever was,” You smiled at your brother “Just so you know.”

Dean pressed a kiss to your forehead before resting his head on top of yours.

[lunajay33]

Mothers Daughter🕊️

Summary: Being the youngest of the winchesters had its ups and downs, but being the only girl made you miss out on a female figure, so the only thing you can do is ask the men around you about your mother

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lil sister, Sam Winchester x lil sister, John Winchester x daughter

•Masterlist•

You never got to meet you mother she died 6 months after you were born, well when you and Sam were born, he was older than you by 5 minutes and still treated you like his little sister but you couldn’t ask for 2 better bigger brothers, they were always there for you and made sure you were okay

Being the youngest and only girl in the family it got hard sometimes, when you were little it wasn’t as big of a deal, John treated you like his little girl and loved you dearly always reminding you that you looked like Mary, your brothers treating you like a princess and let you play with dolls, but as you got older and you got more woman problems it was hard to handle since there was no motherly figure to turn too

You woke up in the motel you were currently staying at with John, Sam and Dean, late at night you got up feeling groggy and your stomach aching so bad, nothing like you’ve ever felt before, you got to the bathroom looking in the mirror seeing how pale you had gotten, thinking maybe it was just something you ate you went to use the washroom but when you pulled down your pants all you see is blood and you panic

You pull your pants back up dropping to the ground when another wave of pain hits your lower stomach

“DADDY!” You scream out scared you might be serious sick

He runs in frantic looking around for danger, probably thinking something supernatural was out to get you, he kneeled infront of you brushing your hair back

“Baby what’s wrong?”

“Somethings wrong, I’m bleeding a lot and….and it hurts so bad” you say breathing heavy just wishing for him to take you pain away

“Oh princess, it’s your period every woman goes through it, I’ll run out and get you some pads and pain killers, drink some water I’ll be right back”

When he left Sam and Dean came and sat with you on the bathroom floor, doing everything they could to comfort you, but you were still confused on what was happening

That happened when you were 14 and after John explained to you what a period was you felt so different from your brothers, every month you had to go through pain while they carried on with hunting, having to go through bouts of random emotions was irritating but what was worse was having your body change and not knowing what to do

“Damn sis your legs are just about as hairy as mine” Dean laughed as we were all sat around in another motel, you felt so embarrassed covering your legs under the blankets

“Dean enough” John said as he saw your bottom lip tremble

“Daddy I don’t understand why do I have to change like this my legs are hairy and my boobs are getting bigger and I don’t feel comfortable”

“Come on princess I’ll take you shopping”

He took you to a drug store find a training bra that fit comfortably and some razors, the drive home was a little quiet

“I’m sorry daddy, I don’t mean to inconvenience you I know you have a lot on your plate right now with this werewolf case���

“It’s not your fault, and you’re not an inconvenience, just wish your mother was here to help guide you on this”

Your mother was a sore topic for the family which is all the more reason you wish you knew her, they barely talk about her

You got back to the motel room and Sam was already asleep but Dean was up watching tv still, John got ready for bed while you sat at the little table working on some homework Dean coming to sit with you, he was 19 so he didn’t have to do any schooling anymore

“Dean can I ask you something?” You sighed putting your pencil down

“Sure kid, what’s got your little head worrying?”

“Do you….i mean I never knew her but…..do you like mom would have liked me?”

He looked surprised not expecting that question, you saw John come out of the washroom seeing Dean expression and your nervous state

“What’s going on?”

“She…..she asked if mom would have liked her”

You were scared that he was going to yell at you, but you were just so desperate to have a mom or even a older strong woman figure to look up to

“Daddy I’m sorry I just…..I feel so different and you always say I remind you of mom, I just miss someone I never knew and it hurts”

“I’m not made princess, I’m sorry you and the boys don’t have your mother but I’m trying my best, and your mother would have loved you, I remember when she found out she was having twins she was so excited and when you were born and we saw you were a little girl she always said she felt this connection with you, how she’d cradle you and you’d immediately relax against her, she had so much planned for you Angel, she told me to wait till your 16th birthday to give you this but it’s close enough” he got up rummaging through his bag pulling out a little box

You opened it to see a silver necklace with a protection charm, just like the one John had tattooed

“I love it, thank you, I hope where ever she is she’s proud of me”

“Hey kid, we’re all proud of you” Dean smiled helping you put the necklace on

“She couldn’t have left me with better protectors, I love all three of you”

“Love you too princess, forever”

You were 22 now and on a run with all three Winchester boys, you had just finished getting the colt back from some vampires and trying to make a game plan so that John would accept you help, Sammy was driving and you and Dean were in the back

“Daddy please just take a break for a second, let us help I…….i miss you” bright lights burned you eyes before everything crashed and everything went black

You opened your eyes to see you were in a field full of flowers, not a worry in the world just the calming feeling of wind in your hair, bees buzzing by, no vampires or demons or anything just peace, then a woman in white appeared next to you

“You’re so beautiful” she smiled brushing your hair back

“Who are you?”

“I’m your mother dear, don’t tell me those boys haven’t showed you a picture of me” you shook your head but then you realized what she said, your mother was sitting next to you

“Mom…..it’s you!” You wrapped your arms around her feeling her warmth that you craved for

“But if it’s really you then…..am I dead?” You asked scared

“You got in a crash, the boys are waiting for you back there but if you want you can stay with me, we can be happy just mother and daughter, you can stay with me”

“But I haven’t lived yet, I don’t wanna leave Sammy or Dean and I can’t leave dad like that, I just got him back”

“It’s your choice baby, but either way I’m always with you” she said pointing at my necklace

A bright light above stung your eyes slowly coming into focus, seeing everyone surrounding you bed

“There she is, god sis you terrified us” Sam said wrapping his arms around you

“Princess why are you crying?” John asked worried your in pain

“I saw her” you whispered still in shock

“I think she still got drugs in her system” Dean laughed

“No I saw her, it was mom” everyone went still

“She said I could stay with her, wherever I was it was peaceful and free of evil but….i had to come back I just got you back dad and I can’t just leave my brothers you’ll tear eachother apart without me here” you smile

“I ain’t leaving anytime soon baby girl”

You went to sit up but pain shot through your body

“Good driving Sam, how is it you all look like you got in a little bar fight and I’m the one in this hospital bed…….any serious damage?”

“Doc said you got a concussion, broken rib and some nasty cuts on your face”

“But I’ll be okay?”

“We won’t let anything happen to you, never again”

Requests are open for supernatural or the walking dead:)🩶

[princessxt]

Hi! Could you do an imagine where dean and sam have a younger sister and she has a nightmare and ends up sleeping between her brothers?

omg, sorry for the delay, I really was lacking creativity!!

You can make a request in the comments or by asking me a question!

(Please don't be shy to ask, I'm very happy when I have a request to write)

You can see the list of who I write about here

"The Monster Is Gone"

Pairing(s): Dean/Sam Winchester x Sister Reader

Gender: Angst, fluffy

Warnings: Nightmares, monsters, lots of blood and disturbing writing for more sensitive readers

——————♥︎♥︎——————

My childhood memories were never clear, only blurry images and meaningless phrases wandered through my mind when I tried hard to remember.

A part of me thanks my brain for not allowing me to remember, since I knew the images would be too disturbing for a budding teenager, but when Dad went hunting, disappeared and I had to be under the care of my older brothers during the hunts, everything changed.

I still remember when I had the first memory, it was after a hunt where a student came back from the dead seeking revenge. We were in the car, Dean was driving, and Sam was by his side, in silence while I was in the back seat, still processing the information of the case when the memory came. A blonde woman in pajamas ran through the hallways of a house with a child in her arms, who I soon realized was me.

Over the next few days, I began to dream about it, and as the dreams went on, the images became clearer. One day I realized it was nighttime, and the girl carrying me was wearing red pajamas. Two days later, I realized that the pajamas weren't red, they were white, but they were stained with blood. It was on that day that I started to avoid sleeping as much as possible, afraid of finding out whose blood was on her clothes.

That was 4 months ago, and during that time, each day that passed I saw a little more of that night, and now I knew that the woman was my mother, and the blood on her clothes was my father's, but the worst part was knowing that there was something following me and my mother.

I never told my brothers about this, I know they would be worried, and we have too many things to worry about, like ghosts and demons, and I didn't want to take their minds off work.

We were coming back from a hunt, Dean was driving, Sam was in the passenger seat sleeping, and I was in the back seat, trying my best to avoid falling asleep, but the book I had in my hands to keep me awake wasn't working, and little by little, I rested my head against the window, and fell asleep.

And there I was, crying in my mother's lap while she held me against her chest, with her body against the door, the thing that was chasing us walked calmly through the hallways, and slowly reached behind the door where we were. He knocked once. My mother put her hand over her mouth to keep from making noise. He knocked a second time. I could feel my mother's hands shaking. The third knock was so loud that my mother was pushed from the door, detaching me from her body. When we looked back, he was there.

He was tall, had no face, just a blood-stained mouth and sharp teeth. His fingers were long, and his nails were also stained with blood, just like the black suit he was wearing.

My mother, in an attempt to protect me, pushed me against the wall and covered me with her body, making a human shield. I could feel her tears wetting my pink pajamas as I heard her scream.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, PLEASE! SHE'S JUST A CHILD"

In response, he let out a frightening laugh. In a few seconds, he pulled my mother and threw her to the floor, while she tried to fight, but the thing was strong and held her without effort. The next scene was the worst.

He opened his mouth, showing his huge teeth and then immediately struck her neck, making blood gush all over the room.

I watched that scene, cowering and scared in the corner of the room while I screamed, begging him to let my mother go, but that must have made him feel even hungrier for her, since he raised his long arm and struck her belly, cutting her skin with his sharp nails.

At that moment, I looked at my mother, who was staring at me with her lifeless eyes, wet with tears of pain.

"Y/N! Y/N, wake up!" I heard a voice call out

"Wake up! You need to wake up!" Again, and this time, louder.

At that moment I woke up. Sweaty, with irregular breathing and a dry throat. I looked ahead and saw Dean and Sam looking at me. We were stopped on a dark road.

"Is everything okay?" Dean asks, meanwhile, Sam opens the car door and gets out, opening the back one and getting in, sitting next to me.

"Okay, sure." I answer nervously, trying to compose myself.

"It didn't seem okay while you were screaming," Sam says, handing me a bottle of water, which I gladly accept.

"It was just a dream, I'm fine." I try to convince them, but by their faces, it hadn't worked.

"If it was just a dream, I'm even afraid to know your nightmares," Dean says and starts driving again.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam whispers in my ear, and I try to hold back the tears, while I just nod my head in agreement.

"There's a motel a few minutes from here, we'll spend the night there," Dean says and continues down the road.

It doesn't take long until we arrive at the motel. It was a classic roadside motel, but it was enough.

Dean and Sam get a single room for the two of them, and one for me.

I didn't plan on sleeping that night, so when the boys went to their rooms, I grabbed some snacks from a vending machine and went to my room, turning on the TV to a channel that was showing a series, with the intention of distracting myself from the memories.

I manage not to think about my dreams for 2 or 3 hours, but at one point, sleep begins to set in, and little by little my eyes close, but I always realize that I am about to fall asleep, and I wake up with a jolt. I turn off the television and go to the bathroom.

I take off the clothes I was wearing and get in the shower. The hot water hits the tense muscles in my shoulders and relaxes them in a few seconds. I close my eyes and throw my head back, wetting my hair and face. I massage my scalp with the intention of relaxing, but I quickly tense up when I feel a sudden cold, despite the hot water.

I step out of the shower and dry my eyes with my hands, and when I look at the curtain, I can see the shadow of something behind it. Something very similar to the Being from my memories.

With my heart racing and my breathing irregular, I open the curtain in a quick movement, but relax when I find nothing on the other side.

I turn off the shower, still confused and scared by what happened before, and put on some warm pajamas.

I think about lying back down on the bed and watching the series again, but I look at the bedside table and see the spare key to my brothers' room that Sam gave me in case of an emergency.

Without thinking much, I grab the key and go to the next room, unlocking it slowly, not wanting to alarm the boys.

I open the door and close it behind me, when I turn around, I see Sam, still awake, sitting on the couch that was in the room with a book in his hand.

"Hi, did something happen?" He says quietly and puts the book aside, coming to me.

"I'm scared." My eyes fill with tears and I hug him. I feel his big arms holding me tightly, bringing me closer to his chest.

"It's okay, little one. I'm here." He kisses the top of my head as I sob against his soft shirt.

"Come, lie down with us." He pulls away and goes to the bed.

"Dean, go over there." He pokes Dean's shoulder, making him wake up half-dazed and ready to curse his brother, but stops when he sees me crying next to the bed.

Dean pulls away and I lay down next to him, Sam laying down next to me, making me be between the two of them.

"You're safe with us," Dean whispers, going back to sleep.

"You don't have to tell me what you're afraid of, but know that I'm here for you when you're ready to tell me," Sam whispers behind me.

"I'm having dreams. Actually, they're not dreams, they're memories from my childhood, before Dad adopted me. In these memories, a monster or whatever it was killed my father and mother, right in front of me."

"You don't have to be afraid. Dad told us about this story. He came when the monster was on top of your mother and killed it before it had a chance to hurt you. Sleep, and don't worry about your dreams, the monster is gone, it's dead, and your brothers are here to protect you from anything."

[rustys-lodge]

Requested by anon : Can you write a spn fic of dad sam/dean where she texts her dad from her room about needing help because depression gets really bad and she wants to self harm? And dad just helps her ride the wave and comforts her. Thank you

Warnings : Depression, self harm

-------

And without a single warning, the door to your room flew open. And there he was, standing with that empathetic smile on his face.

You'd believe it if you couldn't clearly see the worry glistening in his eyes.

"Is this where my beauty needs help for her sleep ?"

Your lips quivered and a whimper left your lips, causing your dad's shoulders to slump.

Nice try. But the wound is too deep to close up with a simple joke. And the joke is not funny. But your dad got the memo, since he flew to your bed and sat himself beside you.

"Scooch" He commanded before bringing your upper half over his chest. So you layed diagonally on the bed, with your back up to his chest, giving him scape to wrap his arms completely around your neck.

You needed that. Badly. And when your whimpers got louder, your dad hugged you tighter.

"It's bad, dad..." You choked on a sob.

"I know...kid...i know" Your father planted a kiss on your head. And his hands let you go....discreetly traveling down your arms.

He was checking to see if you'd flinch...that would mean you did it again. And you know this move because you've been through this as well.

Him randomly touching your arms, squeezing from time to time to see if it hurts you. At first you pretended like it didn't. But at some point, you realized there's no need to pretend. He knows.

"I didn't do it." You informed him and a slight sigh of relief hit your ear.

"That's my girl." Another kiss fell on the back of your back of your head. "Give me those hands."

You complied and your dad criss-crossed your arms and set your hands on your opposite shoulders, before bringing his own arms over yours.

"I'm here now, kid."

And as weird and narrow as it may have seemed. You were wrapped in a loving embrace.

And although your drowning thoughts were not ceasing, warmth flooded your body and your muscles tensed down...you hadn't slept in a while. It's been hard..Really hard.

With his arms still wrapped around your chest, your dad sung to you, considerably low, guiding you to sleep.

-----

Sorry for the never-changing ending. It seems that comfy fics cannot end any other way. Anyways, hope this helps someone on a lonely night !! ❤️❤️❤️⚘️⚘️⚘️

[losers-clvb]

i love you, i'm sorry // sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x bobby's daughter!reader

summary: a teenaged sam left you broken. now he's back and you're not sure what to do.

content: angst, some swearing but it's not overdone, heartache, both reader and sam are in the wrong in a way (but mostly sam), reader is bobby's daughter, big brother figure dean winchester, reader has confusion over her feelings

word count: 4k

note: this was going to be one long fic, but i felt it would be better as two parts seeing how the total word count is nearing 11k. the second part will be out this week and will have smut. the title is from "i love you, i'm sorry" by gracie abrams, but no direct inspiration was taken from the song. i interchange the use of "your father" and "bobby" but keep in mind they are intended to be the same person. enjoy!

masterlist part two

----

It had been years since the Winchester boys had come to stay with the Singers. Life, or hunting more like, had gotten in the way. They knew they had somewhere to come home to, or at least that was what you and Bobby had hoped. Bobby was your father, and you his little girl, no matter how old you got. He hadn’t wanted to be a father growing up, but once he held you in his arms, he knew you had him wrapped around your finger. It had been only months after you were born that your mother died, killed by your father in a desperate attempt to keep you safe. He had begun a life of hunting after that. He knew he needed to find some way for all of this pain to make sense. Somewhere along the way, he had met John and, in turn, Sam and Dean.

You had been sandwiched in between the boys for what seemed like all your life. They were your honorary family, though your relationship with Sam had blossomed into something more. It had been your sixteenth birthday - Sam was 17 - when he had gotten you alone to give you your gift. It was small, just a necklace that he had found at a convenience store on the way to Bobby’s, but you still wore it everyday. Your response to this gift was, naturally, to kiss him. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought of doing it before, you just never had the chance to. His response was, naturally, to kiss you back like you were his lifeline.

A whirlwind romance, hidden from your father and Dean, ensued until he had run away to college. Somehow him leaving had meant leaving everything, even you, behind.  You had cared, of course, but you couldn’t tell anyone. You cried every night for days. Bobby had noticed something was off. He always noticed when his girl wasn’t herself. He tried to cheer you up with those dad jokes he had been using on you since you were born. He tried chocolates and flowers and every little trinket he saw that reminded him of you. Nothing worked. You had pulled yourself out of the spell of heartbreak at some point. You knew it was silly to cry over a boy. Even if that boy was the love of your life.

Life had been normal for a while. John and Dean would visit once in a while for dinner or lunch. Your heart leaped every time the door opened, hoping Sam would come through it. He never did. You helped Bobby research and sorted papers. You cooked meals and baked desserts, humming while you did so, which pulled at Bobby’s heartstrings in a bittersweet kind of way. You were starting to consider looking for someone else to spend the rest of your life with, someone who could make you feel even half of what you felt for Sam.

Then he appeared in your life again. There he was, standing in the entryway of your house with a shaggy haircut and those puppy dog eyes that hadn’t changed in the five years since you had last seen him.

You knew he had begun hunting again. How could you not? Dean called what seemed like every day to ask for help with a case. You had been happy to help like always until you caught the low sound of a second male voice in the background. You promptly hung the phone up. From that day forward, you waited until your dad confirmed that it was anyone but the Winchester boys calling. Both Bobby and Dean had questioned you, but you knew better than to tell them the true reason for it. You just hoped you would never have to face Sam again.

But here he was. Your hands, holding a stack of books you were returning to their correct home, trembled when he said your name. You could feel tingling in your fingertips, a sure sign you were about to cry. Neither of you moved, as if your feet were cemented to the floor. You both stared at each other, eyes locked and waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Sam, get in here.” The sound of your dad’s voice from his study cured you of your paralysis. Before Sam could get another word in, you dashed to your room. The slam of the door was heard through the house, startling Dean and Bobby.

“What the hell was that?” Dean barked out. When Sam had responded with your name, the looks of confusion on the two men in front of him deepened.

“Why?” Bobby asked, eyeing Sam like he had done something to you. And he had. It just wasn’t something that he had done recently.

“I don’t know.” Sam breathed out. He knew. Of course he knew. How could he not, when for the first two years of college he had spent every night wanting to call you and apologize. He knew he hurt you. He knew he was still in love with you, just as he had been many years before. He also knew that some part of you still loved him. The necklace. The glinting metal was the first thing his eyes caught when he had entered the house. You still wore the necklace he had given you. The sight of it made his heart reach for you.

----

You hadn’t made an appearance for lunch or dinner. You had locked yourself up in your room, only letting your dad inside when he had knocked softly. You made up something about feeling sick. He hadn’t believed you, but knew if you needed something you would go to him. He left your room after giving you a kiss on the forehead.

That had been hours ago. The moonlight shone through your window while you listened with attentive ears to try to decide if it was safe to venture downstairs for some food. The three men had called it a night around 45 minutes ago, and you hoped they were fast sleepers.

Five minutes of pure silence passed before you dared to try to leave. You had changed into your pajamas, a light purple tank top and matching shorts, and your socked feet were quiet on the hardwood flooring. You tiptoed down the stairs, gripping onto the railing.

Once making a sandwich, you took the food to the table to eat. You were quiet with your chewing, stopping occasionally when you heard the noises of the house settling. You were alone, yes, but you needed the time. Your eyes drooped low as you ate, fighting the sleep your brain needed after the emotional day. You had finished eating when you told yourself you could just close your eyes for a few seconds before getting up.

----

Sam had decided, after hours of tossing and turning in an attempt to sleep, that he had to see you. He had to apologize, had to make things right. He had crept up to your door, knocking in the chance that you were awake at that time of night. When you hadn’t answered, he had poked his head inside. He just needed to know you were there, but your empty bed made him stop. You were gone. Not in your room, which meant either you had fallen asleep elsewhere or something had taken you. He hoped for the former, though there was a small chance of the latter. A quick search had led him to the kitchen where you were slumped on the table, eyes closed and breath steady. There you were. The sight pulled a somber sigh from Sam. An image of you from earlier flashed across his mind. Your panicked expression, trembling hands, and wide eyes. You had obviously not been expecting to see him, though he had thought that Bobby would have told you before his arrival.

Sam walked to you, careful to make sure his footsteps were as quiet as possible. He didn’t want to leave you sleeping on the table. It wasn’t right and he knew that you would have regretted it in the morning. So, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to your room. You seemed to curl into him in your sleep, much like you had all those years ago when he would sneak to your room at night.

The weightlessness of being carried woke you. At first, you believed you were dreaming. Then, the scent of coffee and cedar brought your eyes open. Sam. Sam Winchester was carrying you up the stairs and into your room. Your heartbeat quickened, panicking. What would you say to him? Thank you? Go away? What would he say to you? It was when Sam readjusted his hold on you that you had decided to just pretend you were still sleeping. He was the same as you remembered. The smell, the warmth, the careful but secure hold. All of it was the same.

You felt yourself being lowered onto what you presumed to be your bed. It was the same full sized bed you had since you were a kid. You knew your bed. The chill of night air was swept away by the weight of your blankets. Sam was tucking you in. He was taking the time and effort to tuck you into your bed. You felt a calloused hand brushed hair away from your forehead.

“I’m sorry.”

The words made your heart ache. You felt the honesty in them. It didn’t make what he did any less painful, but it made you remember why you had decided to internally forgive him only a year after he had left. His hand lingered on the side of your head for a few moments before he left you to sleep.

----

The morning came and you woke to the sound of birds chirping. Though you couldn't have gotten more than a few hours of sleep all together, you pulled yourself out of bed to make breakfast for the house. If you didn't do it, Bobby would and it would end up being overcooked scrambled eggs with slightly burnt toast. As you went about getting yourself ready for the day, you couldn't help but think of the last night. Sam, he smelled the same, held the same warmth. Even the way he handled you, like you were his everything, was the same.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. Usually, your dad would be awake and brewing a pot of coffee by this time. Though, he also put himself to bed earlier than he had the night before, so that could account for his absence. You figured someone would have been up by now. Preferably Dean to make your new found mission of ignoring Sam’s presence easier. You had decided this while brushing your teeth. You couldn’t hide away forever. You also couldn’t talk to him without choking on your own words. This was the better option.

While you began the simple breakfast of pancakes and bacon, you hummed to yourself. It was a habit you seemed to have picked up sometime in your teen years. The first few times you had caught your dad watching you with sad eyes, he had refused to tell you why he was so affected by the sound. You pestered him for months, yet the truth only came to light when a long time friend of his had come to visit. He had been sitting at the table while reading a newspaper when the words slipped out.

“You sound just like your mama.” The sentence made you stop in your tracks. The topic of your mother rarely came up between you and Bobby. You knew only the few stories he had let slip through on special occasions and the scraps of memories you could pull from his old friends. You had never told your father about the new information. Instead, you opted to continue on, knowing that the grief he felt initially was outweighed by the love for you having something in common with the mother you had never known.

The sound of footsteps pushed you back into reality. You kept your attention on the food you were making, assuming it would be Bobby finally making an appearance. That was until a figure in a worn down long sleeve and jeans slid into your line of sight. Sam. You tensed up yet continued your cooking. You could feel his eyes on you, flickering between your hands and your face. You both stayed like that for what felt like forever. No words, just Sam watching as you tried not to look at him.

That was until he said your name. He was trying to get you to look at him, to acknowledge he was there. You refused to give in. He didn't deserve your time. You hated him. Well, you didn't actually hate him, though you were sure you should. If you told yourself that you hated him enough times, maybe it would make that love for him go away. He said your name again, this time a bit louder with more effort.

“Please. Just look at me.” Sam was practically begging now. You flexed your jaw as you piled the last pancakes onto the large stack. You scooped up the plates of pancakes and bacon, delivering them to the middle of the dining table. Sam followed you around like a lost puppy, huffing out an irritated breath when you continued to ignore him. He just wanted you to turn your attention to him. He needed to say that he was sorry, needed to explain everything, and he needed to do it while he could get you alone. You just wouldn’t listen. He knew it was you trying to keep your pride, but it didn’t stop the instant frustration from bubbling up.

“I need to explain why I,” he breathed out, “why I did what I did.” Sam’s words were met with a scoff from you. You had moved past sad long ago and the panic you felt last night was simply because you felt like you were being cornered. Now you were angry. You pushed past Sam and grabbed a stack of plates and forks. The coffee you had started in the middle of your cooking had finally finished. You grabbed a mug and moved towards the pot, but Sam beat you to it. He made up a cup of coffee, two sugars and a splash of milk, before offering it to you. Of course he would remember how you liked your coffee. You stared at the cup for a moment before declining the peace offering by pouring coffee in the mug you held. You made it the same, but hoped the message got through to him: you were not interested in being friends.

“Seriously?” Sam asked incredulously. He was about to continue ranting when he heard a whistling growing closer. Bobby entered the kitchen with a smile, oblivious to what he had walked into.

“Morning.” Bobby greeted the two of you. He sat himself at the table, his usual spot that was worn down from years of occupancy. You followed his lead and sat in the chair next to him with a warm smile. Sam, obviously still upset from his failed attempt to speak to you, hadn’t moved from his spot at the counter. Dean, who had been like a bloodhound when he caught a scent of the food, entered the room cheerily. He poured his own coffee before sitting in the chair on your other side.

“Sammy, stop pouting and sit.” Dean ordered while piling pancakes and bacon onto his plate.

“Bring that pot over with ya.” Bobby added. Sam sighed as he did as he was told, grabbing a mug for Bobby on the way over. He took the last chair available. Unfortunately for you it was the one opposite from you. This meant a meal of avoiding catching his eyes with yours while Bobby and Dean spoke of their plans for the day.

----

You should probably apologize to the officer on the other end of the phone. She had called, courtesy of some hunter who needed the assistance, to verify that the FBI had actually been sent to investigate a crime. They hadn’t, of course, but the fact that it was a possible werewolf had led to a hunter being sent. When she questioned your authority, which you had none of but that wasn’t for her to know, you took out your pent up aggravation from Sam on her.

After the line clicked, signaling the end of the call, you swallowed harshly. It wasn’t fair. Why was Sam allowed to waltz back into your life right when you were beginning to move on? Why was he allowed to come and go as he pleased, yet you couldn’t stand to look him in the eyes? You let yourself sink into the office chair that was near the phones.

“What was all that about, sweetheart?” Dean. Of course he would come sniffing around for something to talk about. Your father and Sam had gone into town for something you failed to remember now. You looked up at him and narrowed your eyes at him.

“It was nothing.” You replied, not wanting to get into it all with him. Like your father, he didn’t know about you and Sam’s love affair. Or maybe he did. You couldn’t keep track of what Sam may or may not have said to him, but you knew that you had been silent about the whole thing. It was easier that way, not having to explain exactly what you were feeling.

“Is this about Sam?” Dean continued to push you. The words threw you off. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“What? He told you?” You weren’t angry about it. Well, maybe a little, but that had more to do with the fact that the relationship had been important enough to tell his brother about yet not important enough to keep alive. The spark in Dean’s eyes when you spoke told you that Sam had, in fact, not told him, but you just did. You looked away with burning cheeks.

“What’d he do? Try to get in your pants? Beat up your boyfriend?” Dean was teasing you now. He wanted the details. Despite what he may argue if ever asked, Dean Winchester was one of the biggest gossips you knew.

“No.” Your voice told Dean that you were angry about whatever it was, and you were on the verge of ranting about it.

“C’mon, sweetie, just tell big brother.” The words made you shoot him an annoyed but playful glare. There were many times growing up when Dean had played the big brother you never had. Somehow, you had never picked up on the bond with Sam. Now you kind of wished you had. It would have been much easier than this mess. You took in a breath before speaking.

“He left me.” You told the green eyed man. It was Dean’s turn to scrunch his eyebrows together in question.

“Yeah, join the club. What about it?”

“He kissed me. He called me every night when he wasn’t here. He made me laugh and blush and talked about a future. He told me he loved me. Then he left and I hadn’t heard his voice since.” Your words fell out of your mouth before you could stop them. You watched as Dean’s expression softened.

“Oh.” It was rare for Dean to be speechless but he didn’t know what else to say. He had picked up on something between the two of you when you were teens, but he figured it was just some good old fashioned mutual pining. He couldn’t have imagined Sam would be able to keep something like this from him.

You stood from the chair, certain that you could take a break from watching the phones that rarely rang. Dean stepped into the doorway to stop you from completely leaving the room.

“Listen, you can’t cry over him anymore. He’s not worth it.” Dean spoke, trying his best to console you. You were past that. You didn’t need comfort, you needed anger management.

“I hate him.” You looked into Dean’s eyes and he could see the defiant fire burning in them. He sighed and nodded.

“That works too, I guess.”

----

It was getting harder to ignore Sam. Not because you were tempted to have a conversation with him. You wanted to scream at him if anything. No, it was because your dad was too oblivious to the obvious discomfort between you two and kept assigning tasks for you and Sam to complete. Dean tried his best to replace you when this happened, but eventually Bobby gave him his own chores to complete.

You bounded out the door to your car. Sam followed you, grumbling to himself when you threw the door back into him. You waited for him to climb into the car with a blank expression on your face. The run to the store would hopefully be a quick one with no conversation. The silent drive lasted all of three minutes.

“Are you going to ignore me forever?” Sam asked, a mix of desperation and frustration in his voice. You kept your eyes on the road. The store was coming up soon. You just had to hold out until then.

“It’s my fault. Everything. All of it. Please… just… hear me out.” Apparently Sam no longer needed your direct attention to begin his apologizing. Your grip on the steering wheel tightened, but you still didn’t speak.

“It’s not an excuse, but,” Sam breathed in as if he was weighing the next words in his mind.

“I was going through a lot.” You were parking when you heard him. Thank God you were, because your immediate reaction was to turn your whole body to him. His eyes widened at the fury in your eyes.

“What about me? I was seventeen, dealing with stupid high schoolers and cranky hunters. All I looked forward to was you! I loved you and you decided I wasn’t even worth a call? Bullshit. All of it.” Maybe you were being mean. You knew what John Winchester was like. You had overheard enough phone calls between him and Bobby, had heard some stories from Sam and Dean. You understood his running from his father, but Sam could have at least called once. Or wrote a letter. Or sent a postcard. Anything but leave you in the dark.

Your words made his heart ache. He hated himself for never calling you. Hated himself for hurting you. For anything he had ever done to make you think he felt anything less than love towards you. He had no excuse for why he had done what he had done. His only line of defense against your anger was to respond to it with his own.

“And I was eighteen and running from a life of killing! I hated hunting. I hated my father. You know that! I never called because I needed to completely cut myself off from this world. I needed a normal life.” Sam wasn’t being completely fair. He knew that. His response was a weak attempt at trying to diminish the guilt he felt. Yes, he wanted a normal life. But look how that worked out. All that pain he had caused just to come back to what he was running from. You shook your head and opened your door.

“Fuck you Sam.” The anger seethed through you as you climbed out and made for the entrance of the grocery store. You had missed the way Sam’s own anger had broken with your final words. You had missed the way he physically shrank down. You had missed the way he followed you as he had earlier, but this time with less motivation. He wanted you to come back to him. He had never seen you so angry before. He missed the girl who would place light kisses on the tip of his nose, the one who would let him hold her all night long.

[jasmines-library]

I’m in love with the angst. Can you do a sister Winchester story where she’s at dinner with John and the boys and she starts choking

Knock it off

Note: Sorry this took me so long to get to! I wasn't 100% sure what direction to take this in so it's a little short i'm sorry, but I hope it's okay.

warnings: Choking. J*hn Winchester (yes he is a warning)

Word count: 1k

⛤ SPN MASTERLIST ⛤

It was an unusual occurrence for the four of you to be in one room at the same time, let alone sat crowded around a dinner table eating something other than diner food or one of those ready made meals that were convenient, but tasted like cardboard and had an aftertaste that stuck around for far too long, But nevertheless, there you were. You were crammed in between your brothers, your knees rubbed up against theirs and your elbows occasionally bumped into each other as you took forkfuls of food. 

There was an unmeasurable grin plastered across your face, reaching from one ear to the next. And there was one on your dad’s too. He was treasuring the moment, you were sure. The way his body relaxed into the wooden chair told you that much. With time left over after a hunt that went unusually well, he had decided to cook something so, a quick pit-stop and a few hours later, he had managed to produce a steaming tray of burgers from the motel’s half functioning grill, and whilst it was far from gourmet, and wasn't going to make up for his countless mistakes and poor parenting, or win him any ‘father of the year awards’, it was a gentle step in the right direction.

The sound of the tv playing listlessly in the background was drowned out almost completely by the chatter as you shared stories and memories, laughing at the few treasured moments that the four of you had shared. 

You were about halfway through the meal when it happened; suddenly your body was completely deprived of air. You began to work up a coughing fit, spluttering and cutting out the chatter completely as everyone turned to look at you. 

Dean deepened the creases between his eyes. “You okay there sweetheart?”

You nodded, trying to dismiss him with a thumbs up, but whatever was cutting off your airway wouldn't budge. Gasping for breath, you pushed your chair away from the table clutching at your chest. Your brothers were up in a flash frantically patting you on the back. It felt like hours before the offending piece budged and you took in air selfishly. 

A few rouge tears trailed down your face as Sam led you over to the edge of the bed, setting you down gently. He rubbed his hands soothingly up and down your arms as you hyperventilated, now taking in too much air with the thought of running out again persistent in your mind. 

“Deep breaths, Kiddo. Deep breaths.” He crouched down in front of you, taking your small hands in his and pressing a gentle kiss to them. 

You followed his breathing, inhaling deeply, then holding it, savouring it and then exhaling back out again, until finally your body remembered somewhat how it was supposed to function and your breathing steadied. 

Your dad came over hesitantly with a glass of cool water clutched gently in his hands. It was strange that even with all of his years hunting monsters, he still didn’t know how to act around his children when they were in distress. Fear gripped him tightly like a glove, taking over all of his control over his body. So, it took him a few moments to process what was happening before he actually made a move towards you. 

“You alright?” He queried as you took gentle sips of water, under the watchful eyes of your older brother, Dean. 

You nodded. “Yeah…”

Dean ran his hands over his face and let out a sigh. “Jesus, sweetheart. You scared the crap out of us.”

“Sorry…” You shrugged, pushing your shoulders up to your ears.

Sammy shook his head, tossing his hair around his face. “It was an accident.”

“Just remember to chew your food next time.” Dean quipped. He was always one to make a joke out of a serious situation to lighten the mood. He couldn’t stand the tension, it made him nauseous. 

‘

You rolled your eyes and slapped him playfully on the chest. “Not cool.”

He turned his head. “You know I am.”

“Dude.” Sam said, giving his older brother a look. “Shut up.”

“What?! I am!”

He sighed. “If you say so.”

You just chuckled at their antics, glad that your incident didn’t ruin the tender moment between your family. You would always treasure little moments like these, with your brothers being your brothers, even if it meant spending time hauled up in a motel listening to the pair of them bicker. It was a reminder that sometimes, the three of you could be normal if only just for a precious moment.

⛤ MAIN MASTERLIST ⛤

[glimmeringwinchester]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 – grace winchester has spent her life searching for approval from her father. when she and her brothers find themselves up against a nest of vampires, she realizes its okay to let bridges stay burned.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) – canon typical violence, ptsd, mention of anxiety, implied panic attacks/anxiety disorder, mentions of childhood abuse, additional violence, protective dean and sam, gracie finally stands up for herself, dean is serious when he says john will never hurt his sister again, fluff/comfort f you squint and really take it in, oc au

series: love was the law

Grace Winchester hasn’t been the same since finding her father, or, her father finding her. Even with him gone again, she flinches at every loud noise, recoils into herself at any innocent touch, and has somehow gotten quieter than she already was. She sits beside her brother at a small table, scrounging for another case to work and monster to kill. Sunlight falls into the diner from every angle, and it catches in her tousled hair somewhat angelically. She’s not paying attention to anything around her, entirely absorbed in the newspaper clippings she has between her fingers. 

“All right, dude, not a decent lead in all of Nebraska.” Dean’s voice is gruff and gravely, but it hardly breaks through the focus Grace has found. “What do you got?” 

“Well, I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, cd.   Dakota. Here – A woman in Iowa fell ten thousand feet from an airplane and survived.” Sam read off of his laptop, though even he didn’t sound too enthusiastic about that lead but it's all that he’s been able to come up with since opening his web browser. 

Dean shakes his head, hands clasped together as he abandons his paper for a while. “Sounds more like ‘that’s incredible!’ than the twilight zone.” 

“Yeah.” Sam sighs, and his fingers move against the keypad, evidently beginning a search for something else; something real. Grace stays locked into her newspaper, green eyes scanning the pages intently. 

“Hey, you know, we could just keep heading East – New York, Upstate. Could stop by and see Sarah again. Huh? She’s a cool chick, man. Smokin’.” Dean taunted, his smile broad and jesting. “You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?” 

Sam laughed, scratching at his head as he kept his eyes down and on the new webpage he’d pulled up. “Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe someday. But in the meantime, we got a lot of work to do, Dean, and you know that.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Dean sighed acceptingly, turning his head to Grace who hadn’t shared any potential leads, but looked too interested in the paper to have not found something. “What’d you get, Gracie?” 

Both brothers sigh when they realize she’s not even listening to them, and tenderly Sam reaches out to put a hand on the newspaper. His heart breaks when Grace flinches, eyes wide and alert as she looks between Sam and Dean before eventually shrinking into herself and setting the paper down entirely. “Yeah?” She asks softly, not even slightly aware of why they want her attention. 

“Find anything? Sam and I got squat.” Dean asks again, only this time his tone is softer. He hates that for nineteen years, this was the only version of his sister that he’d ever known. He didn’t think she was capable of being any other way, but then she’d come back from Stanford and she’d been situationally bubbly and sharp witted. He hadn’t had the chance to realize that John drained the life from her when they were kids, but he knows now, and he hates that he can’t have everything. He can have John, but then he loses Grace. He can have Grace, but then he’s out of the only parent they have left. What Dean Winchester hates the most, is that he’d trade his father for his sister any day. 

“Oh, um, yeah. Daniel Elkins of Manning, Colorado was found mauled in his home. I know the name, I just can’t figure out from where, but it looks like the cops don’t know what to think. At first they thought it was some kind of bear attack, but now they found signs of a robbery.” Grace explains what she’d found, her voice as quiet as a whisper but she hasn’t been much louder since they’d connected with John. 

Dean rummages through his bag to find John’s journal, the name apparently sounding familiar to him too. Grace watches him intently, not because she’s interested, but because she’s been on edge for days now. “Here. Check it out.” Dean hands the journal to Grace once he’s found something relevant, and the youngest Winchester takes it into her hands with narrowed eyes. 

“It has to be the same Elkins.” Grace mumbles after a beat, looking up at Dean who nods agreeingly. 

“How can you be so sure?” Sam questions, pulling the journal into his own hands and out of his sisters. He misses the way that Grace’s eyes flicker downward with uncertainty, but Dean doesn’t, and he sighs internally. Grace hadn’t questioned her capabilities as a hunter when it had been just them out on their own. The eldest Winchester hates that someone he still needs can ruin everything good in his life just by being around. 

“It’s a Colorado area code.” She explains hesitantly, and Sam’s eyes soften when he realizes that she’d interpreted his genuine confusion as critical doubt. This had been the version of his sister that had shown up on his doorstep over a year ago. This was the version of his sister that he’d left behind without looking back. He doesn’t know how he left her so easily back then; not when he can finally see just how broken down she’d been. He misses the way she rolls her eyes whenever he questions her, and how she used to contribute to their conversations. He’d spent nineteen years not knowing that his baby sister could be somebody entirely different, but now that he knows that, now that he’s seen that version of her and had gotten to love her, he doesn’t want this. He hates this. 

“Alright. Manning, Colorado. Let's go.” Dean threw a crumpled up napkin on the table, beginning to pack away all of the books he’d pulled out from his bag. Sam doesn’t hesitate to follow his action, closing his laptop and reaching for the leather crossbody he refused to wear correctly. Grace grabs the paper she’d been reading, folding it in half before she stood up, waiting by the corner of the table for Sam before she turned to follow Dean. 

He held the door open for Grace, and the youngest Winchester whispered a soft ‘thank you’ as she passed. Dean shook his head, making eye contact with Sam before they followed their sister to the Impala. Daylight was precious and quickly fleeting, so after bags had been thrown into the trunk, all three siblings piled into the car and headed straight toward Colorado.

-

By the time they reached Manning, darkness had fallen over the town. Grace Winchester fought off a yawn as she crawled out of the backseat of the Impala, evidently not having won any measure of rest despite her prolonged silence that left the backseat quiet and still. She stumbled into Sam unintentionally, and her entire body seized with fear instinctively. Her firm-chested brother stepped away from her sadly, wondering what it was going to take to pull her out of her shell again. He hadn’t been much help the first time around. He knew too much, felt too much about her to ever think of intentionally provoking her. Jessica had been the one to breach her bubble of solitude. She’d been the one to drag Grace to parties and study groups. She’d been the one to spend hours in Grace’s room in silence, but eventually that silence became lively conversations that kept Sam awake when he was trying to get rest in before an exam. He might’ve had a little sister for the last twenty years of his life, but he doesn’t know the first thing about girls in general. 

“Gracie.” Dean calls for her quietly as he stands in front of the open trunk. He’s scrounging for weapons, but he has a flashlight already extended toward her. Grace takes it quickly, testing the battery before she nods and steps away, putting unnecessary distance between them. 

Dean throws one at Sam, not as cautious about his brother's reaction as he was about his sisters. If it was two weeks earlier, he would’ve thrown one at Grace without warning her, but it’s not two weeks ago, and his sister isn’t the same as she was then. It’s a realization that keeps hitting the Winchesters like a heavy punch, and each time it crosses their mind is as devastating as the first. 

They creep through the blanket of darkness with precision that only comes with practice. Grace is sandwiched between her brothers, the shift in attitude not enough to derail their routine. She stops behind Dean when they approach the front door of Elkin’s house. Insects chirp from all around her and her skin crawls, but at the very least she takes their presence as a sign of good things. At least it's not eerily quiet. They cross over the threshold with careful footsteps, shining their lights against surfaces in the distance. There isn’t much on show in Elkin’s property, but Grace supposes that fits the script of any hunter that she’s known. They all have a lot of things, but most of those things aren’t sentimental or personal. For a moment, Grace considers what her own home would look like if she ever found a way to have that small privilege. She thinks, at the very least, she’d display all of the childhood pictures they have. 

They creep further into the house until they find what was once Elkin’s study. Grace grimaces at the evident signs of a struggle, the sight unsettling given Daniel Elkin’s capabilities and knowledge. Something had happened here, that much was obvious. 

“Looks like the maid didn’t come today.” Dean commented sarcastically, sweeping his flashlight against the desk to his left. 

Sam peels away from his siblings to kneel by the door, his fingers trailing over whatever was thrown across the floor in a thin layer. Grace trailed farther away, shining her flashlight against the walls in the farthest corner. She craned her head when Sam called out, his voice even but laced with curiosity. “Hey, there’s salt over here, right inside the door.” 

“You mean protection-against-demon salt or ‘oops, I spilled the popcorn’ salt?” Dean didn’t even bother to glance back, too busy rifling through papers that Elkins had scattered around the place. 

“It’s clearly a ring.” Sam mused, brushing off his fingertips before he stood up, shining his light in Dean’s direction. “You think this guy Elkins was a player?” 

“Definitely.” Dean hummed with unmistakable certainty. His younger siblings frowned at his tone of voice and crept closer until they could look over his shoulder at the papers he was flipping to. They weren’t just random papers like Grace had assumed they were, but rather a spiral ring journal that held a striking resemblance to something they all knew. 

“That looks a hell of a lot like Dad’s.” Sam noted, his flashlight shining against the paper, bringing the black ink to light that was otherwise near perfectly concealed by the darkness of midnight. 

“Except this dates back to the ‘60s.” Dean informed his younger siblings of what he’d read on a page toward the front of the journal. There wasn’t time to waste. Whatever attacked Elkins could very well still be in the general area, and with that in mind, Dean grabbed the journal before he backed away from the study, crossing over the salt-lined threshold to find another area of the house. 

All of the other rooms held the same level of physical distress, which had the baby hairs at the nape of Grace’s neck standing up straight. Furniture was broken, glass was shattered, salt was scattered – it wasn’t a good sight, and all three of the Winchesters knew that. 

“Whatever attacked him, looks like there was more than one.” Dean muttered beneath his breath, creeping toward one of the far corners in the room while Sam and Grace crept toward another. “Looks like he put up a hell of a fight, too.” 

“Yeah.” Sam agreed, sounding breathless as he swept his gaze across all of the destruction that had occurred. Grace could remember what their motel room looked like at times when John got too involved in a case, and she couldn’t help but wonder if some of this had been a result of that same all-in dedication. It wasn’t the farthest fetched theory in the world, but it didn’t take away from the obvious struggle, so she kept it to herself. There was no point in sharing if what she had to say didn’t add any value to the case, John had taught her that when she was seven. 

Grace was rummaging through a pile of papers that looked like they could be leads for a case when Sam piped up a few feet behind her, his attention aimed on Dean. “Got something?” He inquired hopefully, and Grace’s head snapped to her brother immediately, her full attention on whatever it was that Dean was looking at. 

“I don’t know. Some scratches on the floor.” Dean mumbled, his fingers ghosting over the scratches that from where Grace was standing, looked to be surrounded by pools of blood. 

“Death throes maybe?” She questioned lightly, and Sam nodded in agreement, looking back at Dean who was already considering the possibility. 

“Maybe.” He agreed, but there was something beneath his eyes that had Grace looking in a different direction. She made a soft sound of understanding when Dean reached for a blank paper on the desk, grabbing a pencil and lowering it to the floorboard. She hadn’t even considered that as a possibility. Maybe she was getting dull, losing that only thing that made her valuable. “Or maybe a message.” Dean’s eyes widened as he pulled the paper away from the floor, the sliver of light that brightened the room falling against it at just the right angle. He held it out to Grace, “Look familiar?” 

The young woman reached for it curiously, familiarity crossing her features within the first handful of seconds. “Three letters, sex digits – the location and combination of a post office box. It’s a mail dorp.” She breathed the realization, her eyes wide as she trailed her gaze to the door. 

“That’s just the way Dad does it.” Dean didn’t think before he said it, but it’s as if he can see every wall his sister has let slip come right back up into place. He sighs with conflict that can’t be resolved right now, dusting off his hands as he makes his way back toward the Impala. Grace followed quickly, her footsteps falling into step with Dean’s unintentionally. Sam’s lips curved slightly at the sight. Their lives had been anything but traditional, but in his sister there was still an innocent little girl. For years she had followed Dean around everywhere, emulating his attitude, mimicking his movements. Their lives might’ve changed, but somewhere within them all were the kids they’d once been. 

-

 Grace stayed in the car when the boys ran in to retrieve whatever had been stashed at the post office box. She hadn't wanted to travel too far from the car in paranoid fear that they’d been tailed to the location, and neither Dean or Sam had been willing to fight her on the subject. It wasn’t really a three person job anyways, but as they rushed back to the Impala with a semi-crumpled envelope in hand, Dean couldn’t help but feel like something was missing; someone. He hopes whatever rut Grace had fallen into would end with time and patience, because he doesn’t know how to lead a hunt when she isn’t behind him keeping him in line. There might’ve been hunts when she was away at Stanford, but even back then he’d missed her. 

The door slammed as the eldest Winchester fell into the driver's seat of the car. Sam was hardly any different, and Grace swore her bones rattled at the force of metal meeting metal ahead of her. “J.W. – You think? John Winchester?” 

“I don’t know. Should we open it?” Dean questioned, his voice gravely with concern, but their attention was short lived as knocking on the window shattered their found sanctuary in the leather detailed car. Grace flinched into the farthest door, her eyes wide as they looked up to meet the reflection of her father. She’d known that they weren’t alone, but her heart still hammers in fear as she sweeps her gaze over the man she’s least expected to show up midway through a hunt. “Dad?” Dean called out, breathing heavily as he pulled away from the window just enough to see out of it clearly. 

John didn’t say anything, instead, he peeled open the back door and slid in right beside Grace on the leather seat. The youngest Winchester tried to remain unbothered, forcing her shoulders to drop and her hands to remain uncurled, but there was no way for her to completely rewire the instinctive reaction that happened whenever her father was close enough to touch. 

“Dad, what are you doing here? Are you all right?” Sam craned his neck to look back at John, but his green eyes found his sister instinctively. Grace was settled as close to the passenger side door as she could get without looking like she was trying to escape her fathers reach, and her shaking hands lay upright on her thighs like she’d been taught all of those years ago. He can still remember the first time John had backhanded her because she’d clenched her fingers into fists when he’d been ragging on her ‘disobedience’ and his heart lurched at the violent memory of blood dripping from her cheek after John’s ring had sliced her skin. He’d do anything to switch places with her, get her out of armshot from John, but he can’t. Instead, he can only hope that their fathers not here to antagonize her further. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” John nodded, keeping his eyes on Sam, not allowing himself to even glance at Grace. The youngest Winchester doesn’t know what to make of the situation, but she knows that it's too early to rest entirely. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d flipped at the drop of a hat with no warning. “Look, I read the news about Daniel. I got here as fast as I could. I saw you two up at his place.”

Dean’s eyes trail to Grace, her insistence that she stay at the car while they went inside making more sense now than it did only moments ago. For once, she’d had a right to be on edge, and he hates that he hadn’t trusted her instincts more, but it was hard to know when her anxiety was trustworthy. She’d spent the better portion of the last week away from John looking over her shoulder without reason. “Why didn’t you come in, Dad?” Sam frowns, pulling Dean’s attention back to the conversation at hand. 

“You know why.” John huffed, his voice even and without any care for the wellbeing of his children. “Because I had to make sure you weren’t followed… by anyone… or anything. Nice job of covering your tracks, by the way.” Grace could scoff at the excuse. They would’ve been safer had he been in there with them, even if she wants nothing to do with him, he was the one that taught them that there was safety in numbers, and yet he’s always the first to be missing from a fight. 

“Ah, that was Gracie.” Dean shook his head, knowing he’d caught John in a trap. He wouldn’t take back what he’d said, no he was far too interested in keeping his pride intact to backtrack on his words so obviously, but the sour grimace that crossed his expression said everything that he wouldn’t. Had he known that Grace was the one to cover their tracks initially, he never would’ve praised her efforts, but he’d already done it, and for once Grace Winchester was getting validation for her efforts, even if it was muddled by the disgusted expression that fell upon their fathers browline. 

Unconsciously Grace pulled at the seam line in her black leggings, her bottom lip caught between her teeth tightly as she tried not to focus on how her father was so close she could feel the warmth radiating off of his skin. “Knock it off, girl.” John snapped when he became aware of the anxious movements his daughter was making to his left. The young woman, who still hadn’t even celebrated her twenty-first birthday and was really only a kid pretending to understand an adult world, stiffened at the reprimand, stilling her fingers on her thighs and straightening out her posture. 

“Wait, so you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?” Sam frowned, and all three siblings bristled at the realization that they would never be enough for their father on their own. Something else always came before them, whether it was a hunt, or apparently a fallen friend. It shouldn’t sting anymore, they should be used to it, but Grace’s eyes still flickered to her lap in a moment of weakness. 

“Yeah.” John sighed, but there was no ounce of apology in his whispered words. “He was – he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting.” 

Grace frowned at that, knowing that most everyone John crossed paths with was brought up in some capacity. Whatever John learned, they learned to, and Daniel Elkins was not someone that Grace remembered from passing conversation. “You didn’t tell us about him.” Not everything had gone back to the way that it had been, because if it did, Grace never would’ve opened her mouth at all, let alone to question John’s relationship with another hunter. 

“I don’t gotta tell you shit, girl.” John’s eyes were ablaze with anger as he snapped his gaze toward his youngest child, and Grace didn’t hesitate to push herself closer to the door, her eyes wide as she stared back at her father whose short temper hadn’t gotten any better since she’d left home. “You better watch who you're talking back to. You got that?” He seethed, leaning closer until his breath fanned across her face and she was effectively pinned between the car door and his body. She wouldn’t be able to bail before his hands caught the fabric of her shirt, but her hand reached for the handle regardless. 

She nodded frantically, her breath hitching when his hand shot out to grab the fabric of her top. He pulled her closer, close enough to tell that he’d definitely had a drink sometime recently if the stench of beer on his breath was any indication of his alcoholic habits. “I said. You got that?” 

“Yes sir.” She forced the words off of her lips, hating how they felt like a mouthful of dry sand, but evidently that was enough to break through some of the anger that clouded his eyes with something dark and unwelcoming. He didn’t release the tight grip he had on her shirt however, and nervously Grace glanced down at the crumbled fabric that was one sharp tug away from tearing. 

“Dad, hey–” Dean called for John’s attention, and suddenly that anger melted away into something else, his gaze softening once it fell upon his boys. He shoved Grace away from him with more strength than what was necessary, and the young woman's head thumped against the window from the unexpected force of her fathers hand shoving her backward. She winced, but pursed her lips together to stop the audible pain from passing into the air and giving him another reason to put his hands on her. She was getting restless, anxious, her eyes were darting between all three men in the car, and whether she noticed or not, tears blurred in her waterline as her breathing hitched to something familiar and worrisome. “What happened with Elkins? Why did you never mention him?”

“We had a– we had kind of a falling out. I hadn’t seen him in years.” John’s voice softens, his eyes only on Dean as he speaks. Grace hates that even after years, he can’t even look at her without inflicting harm and pain. She doesn’t know what happened between them, can remember sparing moments when he hadn’t been horrible, but that was as far gone as Mary Winchester. It was like one day, he’d suddenly realized he hated her and had never tried to reframe his way of thinking. Even if she hated him, wanted nothing to do with him, it hurt to know that the only parent she has left doesn’t love her the way he was supposed to. “I should look at that.” He nods toward the envelope in Dean’s hand, and the eldest child doesn’t hesitate to hand it back to him. 

John peeled the envelope open carefully, unfolding the paper with a level of cation that he’d never applied to his own flesh and blood. With his gruff hands occupied, Grace raised her own to the collar of her shift, rubbing against the wrinkled fabric and where the neckline of her shirt had rubbed against sensitive skin harshly. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have fabric burns on her body, but as she presses her fingers over the reddened and irritated skin, every memory comes rushing back to her at once. “‘If you’re reading this, I’m already dead.’ That son of a bitch.” 

Dean’s eyebrows furrow, and Sam leans closer to the backseat, curiosity evident in his own green eyes. “What is it?” He questioned carefully. John had never treated him the way he’d been quick to treat Grace, but he’d taken his anger toward them out on her, and so the middle Winchester acted with caution. 

“He had it the whole time.” John shook his head, but that didn’t give any of his children anymore insight. 

“Dad, what?” Sam asked again, and Grace was already sick of them having to ask the same questions multiple times just to get some semblance of a straight answer from him. She doesn’t know why he still treats them like they’re not good enough to be involved in the hunts that he’s chasing, but with every passing second it gets on her nerves more and more. He was the one that dragged them into this life unapologetically. He was the one that had sent them coordinates and essentially led them on a wild goose chase, and yet he’s the one that keeps that an arms length away whenever they're together. 

“When you searched the place, did you see a gun–” 

Grace’s posture straightens even more, and despite everything she’s come to learn about avoiding John’s anger, she finds herself speaking up, filling in the blanks of his sentence the same way she’d fill in Dean’s. “An antique colt revolver?”

John’s gaze snapped to her, his hard eyes filled with anger and violent passion, but he didn’t comment immediately. Instead, he inclined his head, demanding more than what she’d already given; giving her permission to say more. “The gun wasn’t there, but the case was.” 

“For the love of god, girl!” He bellowed in frustration, and within seconds his hand was jutting out to make contact with her face. Grace squeaked when the stinging pain registered in her mind, her fathers handprint warm and throbbing against her cheek, but she didn’t recoil into herself like she wanted to. That would only fuel his anger more, and it seemed like in the years since she’d run away, he’d lost any kind of handle on it at all. 

“Dad, what the hell!” Sam yelled, his eyes looking straight at Grace who only shrugged off his concern. Dean’s nostrils flared with anger, his jaw locked with a protectiveness Grace remembers being more controlled, but he didn’t comment, didn't want to test the theory that John would still punish her further if they intervened in any way. They weren’t children anymore, him especially, but somehow he thinks John will always treat them like they are. 

“They have it.” John didn’t even bristle beneath the heated glares his sons were throwing at him, and realizing that harboring any ill feelings wasn’t going to get them anywhere tonight, Dean drew in a deep breath, trying to push the protective anger out from his rough exterior. 

“You mean whatever killed Elkins?” He asked calmly, but his eyes stayed on Grace, not unaware of how she was falling into a panic attack the longer John sat beside her. Her eyes that had once been so clear and green were glazed over with a dark fear that sent a chill down his spine. He still needed his father, still needed advice and direction, but he’d spend the rest of his life lingering in feelings of uncertainty if it meant keeping her safe and unharmed. 

“We got to pick up their trail.” John’s eyes flashed with urgency, and before any of the siblings could unpack the use of ‘we’ in his sentence, he was climbing out of the backseat and into the cold Colorado air. The youngest Winchester let out a sigh of relief she hadn’t even realized was collecting in her chest, deflating into the passenger side door as she finally brought her hand up to hold where her father had struck her. The skin throbbed and burned beneath her touch, and without even seeing the damage that had been done, she knew her eye would bruise from how his fingers brushed right beneath her waterline. Her lip quivers in an automatic response, but she refuses to cry in front of him – refuses to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d just broken yet another piece of her slowly dying heart. 

“Wait.” Sam called through the open window, both him and Dean leaning toward it. “You want us to come with you?” 

“If Elkins is telling the truth, we’ve got to find this gun.” John sighed, leaning into the window so that he could see both of his sons; the only two people he even cared about just slightly. Grace was just another box to check, or at least, that’s how she felt a majority of the time as she sat in her brother's shadows. It was hardly fair. John expected perfection from her, and yet he never gave her an ounce of what he did her brothers. The odds were always stacked against her, but somehow she’d survived this long. That had to count for something. 

“The gun? Why?” Sam continued to press for information, for a reason to put his life on this line for just another weapon, but John refused to give into the valid questioning. 

“Because it’s important, that’s why.” John argued, but for once, Sam wasn’t backing down to his bullshit excuses. If Grace wasn’t terrified of being dragged out of the car and beaten into a bloody pulp on the gravel road, maybe she would’ve said something too, but the sting against her cheek kept her firmly where she already was. 

“Dad, we don’t even know what these things are yet.” Sam tried to make their hesitancy known, but John was never the kind of man to take excuses of any kind. He’d give them just enough information to assure they weren’t going in completely blind, but nothing entirely helpful. Grace thought it must be some kind of sick game to him. There was no other explanation for his secrecy. 

“They were what Danny Elkins killed best… vampires.” All three siblings visibly recoiled at their fathers words, a combination of shock and fear filling their eyes as they craned their heads to look at their father. 

Dean’s eyes widened considerably, his gaze set on John firmly. “Vampires? I thought there was no such thing.” 

“You never even mentioned them, Dad.” 

“I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and others had wiped them out.” John hangs his head for a second, accepting his son's disbelief and concern. Grace doesn’t even want to consider what John’s reaction would’ve been if she’d been the one to question him on this. “I was wrong.”

Grace sighed quietly to herself as she sank deeper into the backseat of the Impala, itching to grab the blanket that was crumpled into a ball on the floor, but fighting against it. Instead, she listened to John prattle on about everything that he knew about vampires, her brothers giving him the same attention. “Most vampire lore is crap. A cross won’t repel them. Sunlight won’t kill them and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust – that part’s true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won’t know it’s a vampire until it’s too late.” 

He didn’t say anything else other than that he’d tail them to the motel they’d scouted out a few miles West. The thought of him spending the night with them in a cramped motel room made her skin crawl, but there was no getting out of this. This is what Dean pulled them away from Stanford to do – find John – but Grace hadn’t realized just how much she’d begin to sacrifice just to see through these endless hunts. When he was far enough away to no longer hear the way that rocks and leaves crunched beneath his boots, Dean rolled the window up, starting the car with evident irritation in his posture. 

He didn’t pull away from the post office immediately, instead he turned toward the backseat, ushering Grace to come into view where the lights shone brightly over the center console. “Come here, Gracie. Let me see you.” 

“I’m fine, D.” The youngest of the trio whispered, tears still prickling her eyes as she cradled her cheek protectively. She sounded small, scared, and Dean hated that this was his fault. He dragged her back into this, he brought her into the search for John. Even if he hadn’t been the one to strike her, it felt like he did as he sat with the guilt of being the reason she’s here at all. 

“Gracie, let me see.” He insisted, reaching out for her. He hates that she flinches, hates that her eyes that aren’t so soft anymore pinch together in fear of another strike, but eventually she caves, leaning closer until her face is illuminated by the glow of the lights inside of the car. “He got you good, huh?” His thumb strokes across the visible mark of where his fathers palm had clapped against her soft skin, and Grace sucks in a breath between clenched teeth at the sting that comes forward with the continuous prodding and poking. 

“When doesn’t he.” Grace hummed humorlessly, and both of her brothers seem to deflate at the reminder that she’s used to this. They know that she is, know that she can handle constant pain and soreness, but that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow when they’re essentially helpless in the situation. “I’m fine, Dean. Nothing that hasn’t happened before.” 

Dean, for once in his life, doesn’t see John as being his entire world, and softly he tries to make that known to both of his siblings, but more so Grace who seems to only be holding on by a thread. “I can tell him to get lost–” 

“Don’t be an idiot.” Grace huffs, pulling away from his touch to slouch against the backseat. Dean wants to say that she’s handling this well, that she’s coming back out of her shell now that John’s no longer in sight, but he knows that it's only the adrenaline of having to be on her a-game that’s fueling this conversation right now. He knows that the second they pull away from this gravel road, she’ll become nothing more than a shadow of herself as she tries to keep everything that wants to come falling out inside. “Just… don’t try to get between us if something happens, okay? It’s not worth it.”  

“I sat there and did nothing for nineteen years–” 

“Yeah, because the one time you did say something, he held a machete to my throat and said he’d kill me!” Grace snapped, tears falling down her face as she finally broke. “This is not about you, Dean! This isn’t about either of you! It’s about me! About how he hates me so much that he’d rather threaten to kill me than apologize for hitting me so hard he fractured my ribs! You wanted him back, well guess what, here he is. Now can we please stop acting like this isn’t normal. Like you didn’t know this is exactly what would happen when you showed up at Stanford asking for help finding him!” 

“Gracie, I didn’t–”

“Yes, you did. Don’t even try to say you didn’t think this would happen again. It’s fine, Dean. Can you just drive, please? Before he comes out here again.” Grace melted into the leather seats beneath her weight, her arms crossed over her chest as she let her tears fall silently, not possessing the energy it would take to shut out her overwhelming emotions entirely. Sam sank into the passenger seat with a sigh, his eyes trailing to Dean who held the wheel tightly, tears glimmering in his own green eyes. Truth is, he did know this would happen, at least some buried part of him did. He’d been hopeful that things wouldn’t end up like this though; been hopeful that for once he could just have his family together without violence. He was stupid to think that grudges and anger would be so easily overcome, and he hates that he pulled Grace away from something good just for her to end up where she’d started. 

The engine revs as he pulls away from the post office, tension thick in the car as neither of the siblings say anything else, nobody knowing what to say. 

-

Despite the motel that they’d rented a room at, Grace hadn’t gotten so much as a wink of sleep in the hours that had elapsed from night to early morning. She couldn’t rest knowing that her father sat only a few inches away from the end of the bed that she shared with Sam, and she knows that he knows that despite doing her best to act like she wasn’t wide awake with her eyes closed. She shifts slightly beneath the heavy blankets, curling her hands into fists beneath the pillow as she hears the faint static of the police scanner hum to life and him grab his jacket that had been thrown against the chair he pulled away from the table. She barely keeps her body from flinching when his hand bats at her ankle that's beneath the covers, apparently mistaking her body for Sam’s as he calls for her brothers to get up. 

“Sam, Dean, let’s go.” He demands, but all her brothers do is groan in response as they try to cling onto sleep. Grace doesn’t have the same privilege, and quickly she slips out of bed, putting her sock-covered feet into the tennis shoes she’s had for nearly two years. Her heart hammers in her chest when she remembers how Jessica had skipped an entire day of classes near finals just to drag her to the mall and take advantage of all the year-end sales that were going on. It had been so long ago now that the laces that were once a shade of pink, were now muddied and twinged brown. Grace would do anything to go back to a time when she could tell that they were pink. “Picked up a police call.” 

“What happened?” Sam questioned, his voice filled with exhaustion as he peered up at John. Instinctively his hand reached out to feel Grace beside her, and when he came up with only warm sheets, he sat up fully, searching for her until he found her beside the nightstand separating the two beds, reaching for one of Dean’s jackets that she’d stolen weeks ago. 

“A couple called 911. They found a body in the street. Cops got there. Everyone was missing. It’s the vampires.” John explained gruffly, his gaze trailing to Grace when her realized that she was the only one ready to go. His posture stiffened, his eyes hardened and every last piece of Grace’s heart nearly broke as she watched him throw daggers at her. She would never be able to please him, but a small part of her still tries to show up her brothers hoping for scraps of his validation.  

“How do you know?” Sam questioned, finally throwing his feet over the side of the bed, meanwhile Dean still hadn’t moved an inch, his sleep-filled eyes riddled with conflicting emotions. 

“Just follow me, okay?” John huffed, already heading towards the door. Dean groaned, swinging his legs off of the bed and standing up finally. Grace didn’t avoid his quick glance intentionally, but it still cuts Dean as he sighs to himself. 

“Vampires.” He tries to downplay his obvious hurt, chuckling beneath his breath as he stuffed his bag full without any rhyme or reason. “It’s funnier every time I hear it.”

Grace and Sam rolled their eyes, both throwing their duffles over their shoulder and heading toward the door. Grace’s cheek wasn’t as inflamed as it had  been the night prior, but beneath her eyes was a purplish bruise that ached deep in her bones. Sam grimaced as the light caught on the undertone of yellow in the wounded flesh, and comfortingly he slung as arm over her shoulder once they passed through the threshold of the motel room. 

“Get any sleep last night?” He asked her softly, aiming his words for her alone to hear and take in. 

Grace sighed, shrugging his arm off of her and stepping the slightest inch ahead of him, creating distance that only isolated her breaking heart further. Regardless, she looked over her shoulder, a smirk of indifference resting against her bitten lips. “Nope.” She threw her ponytail over her shoulder as she continued toward Baby, not willing to let her father read any kind of emotion in her appearance. 

Sam sighed, craning his head to look at Dean when he finally emerged from the hotel room. “She’s gonna be fine, right?” It felt like a cheap question, one that undermined the severity of Grace’s experience with John, but Sam was desperate to hold out hope for his little sister bouncing back the second they could cut ties with John… if they ever cut ties with John. 

“This time Sammy… I don’t know.” Dean admitted with a reluctant sigh, hanging his head as he stepped forward, leaving Sam to follow after both of his siblings who were beginning to lose themselves into the roles that John Winchester had demanded they play over a decade ago. The soldier and the shadow. Sam knew exactly where he fit into that, and nausea pooled in his stomach at the thought of ever falling into the mold that John Winchester had crafted for him. 

-

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have gone over with him.” Sam rolled his eyes as he leaned his weight against the Impala, watching their father stalk back across the dirt road after what looked like a hostile chat with the town's local officers. Grace wasn’t all that bothered by essentially being benched from the game, but she stood at full attention beside the hood regardless of her personal feelings. It didn’t matter what she wanted, only that she was perfect and quiet. 

“Oh, don’t tell me it’s already starting.” Dean rolled his eyes in the same exasperation that Sam felt, turning his back to the crime scene as he addressed his little brother and willed his gaze not to trail to Grace who still hadn’t uttered as much as a word to him; not that she’d even said more than five words since climbing into the backseat of the Impala. 

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, both hands stuffed into his pockets as he looked at Dean. “What’s starting?” 

Grace rolled her eyes with a silent huff of annoyance, knowing exactly what Dean was referencing even if Sam was otherwise clueless. Neither sibling had time to fill their brother in though, stiffening their shoulders as John approached with his hands shoved into his pockets despite how he’d always reprimanded Grace when she was trying to seek warmth in the biting cold. She can still remember how he’d sliced at the seams of her coat pockets with an army knife when she was eight, rambling on about how he’d cut her hands off if she was just going to waste their usefulness to him. He’d shoved a shotgun at her seconds later, and she could grimace at the memory of being forced to shoot her first spirit with frozen and trembling fingers. 

“What do you got?” Dean questioned, stepping just slightly in front of Grace when he turned back around to face John. It wouldn’t do much if he tried to step toward her, but it was something at the very least. 

“It was them all right. It looks like they’re heading west. We have to double back to get around that detour.” John didn’t beat around the bush, but like always, didn’t give his children anything of value to hold onto and make their own conclusions about. Grace dug her toe into the dirt, not taking her eyes off of John as she listened to more of his bullshit with an expression of neutrality. 

Sam frowned, tilting his head to the side as he tried to unmake John’s reserve. “How can you be so sure?” He pushed, not willing to back down on getting the specifics. Grace was glad at least one of them had the gall to question him, because it certainly wasn’t going to be her, but she couldn’t help but think this was only making the situation worse for them as his questions started to chip away at John’s willingness to be civil. 

“Sam–” Dean sighed, trying to stop a fight from brewing so soon, but before he could try and disarm his younger brother’s irritation, Sam was raising his voice to be heard over the interruption. It seemed that both of their brothers didn’t know how to act around their father, but she didn’t either, so the insult that was forming at the tip of her tongue stayed unmoving and half-formed and she kept herself a silent observer to the chaos. “I just want to know we’re going in the right direction.” He clapped back at Dean and not so subtly made a dig at John, something that definitely would’ve gotten Grace into hot water with their old man. She’s surprised he hasn’t called her out for something already, but she doesn’t think he’s stupid enough to get on her case with the police just a few feet away. For now, she’s safe. 

John, surprisingly, didn’t bristle beneath Sam’s weak interrogation, but a quirk in the corners of his lips told Grace all that she needed to know. He thought this was funny; though dragging them around in the dark was some kind of power move. Over a year later and he really hadn’t changed all that much, if he did at all. “We are.” He assured in an unreasonably condescending tone, and thankfully, Sam wasn’t quick to take the bait of his reassurances. Grace couldn’t stand the slowly rising tempers, or more specifically feared the consequences of rising tempers, but a small part of her was glad that somebody was finally trying to stand their ground to John Winchester.

“How do you know?” Sam fired back, his eyes hard and slitted into thin lines that didn’t hold as much malice as he thought they did. 

“I found this.” John sighed, pulling his hands out of his pockets to hand Dean what looked to be a fang. Even though she still stood behind Dean, the glimmery of something white caught in the corner of her eye, and she knew enough about the case to make an educated assumption of what had her father so certain of where their next destination should be. 

“It’s a vampire fang.” Dean frowned, looking down at the tooth that was pinched between his thumb and forefinger. 

“No fangs – teeth. The second set descends when they attack.” Grace took the words in carefully, slightly disturbed by the mental image of an entire set of teeth emerging from what was once a human's gums that second they attacked their chosen victim. She’d been in this life a long time, had grown a thick stomach to a lot of things, but that mental image was beyond what she could stomach so early in the day. “Any more questions?” He directed his gaze to Sam, who looked to the ground in defeated annoyance but didn’t say anything else, letting his silence speak for itself. 

“Let’s get out of here. We’re losing daylight.” John took control like he always did, and Grace was the first to follow that order. She shuffled to the car door quickly, placing her hand on the silver handle as John walked back toward his truck. “And, Dean, why don’t you touch up your car before you get rust? I wouldn’t have given you the damn thing if I thought you were gonna ruin it.” 

Grace couldn’t help but roll her eyes, wondering where her father got the nerve to think so highly of himself and so horribly of them. She didn’t say anything in Dean’s defence, but when John had his back to them, still stalking toward his truck without even inquiring to gauge Dean’s reaction to his criticism, she looked toward her eldest brother with a grimace of sympathetic understanding, silently clearing the air that had grown tense and cold between them. Dean hadn’t done a lot of things right leading up to this moment, but at the end of the day he was still beneath their fathers thumb just like she was. 

Sam, however, smirked in amusement, not quite realizing the true sentiment of John’s words and what they were armed with. He never had understood how the petty digs cut the deepest for his overlooked siblings, but Grace was simply glad that he’d never learned to question his worth based on materialistic accomplishments. She’d deal with his crooked smirk if it meant sparing him the pain of coming to terms with how you're not good enough for the one person who is supposed to love you unconditionally without something to show for it. 

John pulled out around them, his engine revving as he pulled off onto the road. Sam was on his tail within seconds, one hand resting on the wheel as the other fell beside him. This wasn’t like old times, that much rang true, but Grace couldn’t decide if it was any better than their childhood had been when they weren’t even talking to each other like they used to. She wanted to talk to them, wanted to just be with them, but the paralyzing fear of it somehow getting back to John kept her silent and anxious in the backseat – the perfect little shadow. 

The car was silent for a while before Dean piped up from the passenger seat. “Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten. Smaller packs are sent out to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest, where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks. I wonder if that’s what happened to that 911 couple.” 

“That’s probably what Dad’s thinking.” Sam hummed critically. “Of course, it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks.” 

“So it is starting.” Dean craned his head to look at Sam, his eyebrows raised in recognition. 

“What?” Sam looked back at him, his jaw clenched as he flickered his gaze between the road and Dean’s exasperated expression.

“Sam, we’ve been looking for Dad all year. Now we’re not with him for more than a couple of hours and there’s static already.” Dean didn’t comment on the silence falling off of their sister, but nobody was going to breach that conversation when this was how it had always been. Sam considers himself lucky to have gotten to know who Grace is without John’s influence in any capacity. 

“No.” Sam denied, “Look, I’m happy he’s okay, all right, and I’m happy that we’re all working together.” He admits, his words hanging heavily in the air before Dean ruins the stretched thin silence with a petulant mumble of ‘good’ beneath his breath. Grace shifts uncomfortably in the backseat, knowing that Sam’s words are only true to an extent, but she’s still unable to shake the uncomfortable weight of knowing that her brothers are enjoying this time spent with John in any capacity no matter how small. She hates that she can’t enjoy it too, hates that she’s so filled with fear she never fully leaves fight-or-flight mode. She’d love to sit here and say that in moments where things are good, or at least tolerable, she’s happy to be a family again, but that’s not the truth for her, and it never has been. She’d be perfectly fine never seeing John Winchester again and the weight of that breaks her heart for the little girl inside of her that worshiped the ground he walked. “It’s just the way he treats us like we’re children. He barks orders at us, Dean. He expects us to follow him without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal.” 

“He does what he does for a reason.” Dean defends their father like he always does because at the end of the day, it’s the only way he knows how to keep them all safe. Grace’s heart hurts for herself, but it hurts for her older brother who has always had to carry the responsibility of making sure they all come out the other side alive and relatively unscathed. She knows how much he’s sacrificed for them, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to inflict the most unimaginable pain on him when he gets into the mode of ‘Daddy’s Soldier’. Two things can be true at once, Grace knows that, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. 

“What reason?” Sam scoffs. 

“Our job! There’s no time to argue. There’s no margin for error, alright? It’s just the way the old man runs things.” Dean’s correct to an extent, but so is Sam, and Grace can see both sides of the battlefield as she lingers on the sidelines. She hates these fights, hates when neither of her brothers' sides are the right one to pick. Dean’s an extremist, but Sam’s too eager to find defiance. John Winchester is a horrible person, but at the end of the day he taught them everything they know, and he does know a thing or two that they haven’t ever needed to consider. 

“Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids, but not anymore, alright?” Sam shook his head, his voice softening as he kept his gaze bouncing between Dean and the road ahead of them. “Not after everything we’ve been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you’re cool with just falling into line and letting him run the whole show?” 

“If that’s what it takes.” He admits, and even if Grace knew that he’d say that, it still hurts her to think that he considers her being slapped for something out of her control as ‘what it takes’ to complete a hunt. 

-

There hadn’t been much discussed between the siblings in the hours that had elapsed since the sun was positioned in the sky to when it had fallen beneath the trees to touch down on another piece of land somewhere far and hopefully less haunted by evil. But the silence that was becoming normal was abruptly dismantled by Dean’s phone ringing in his jacket pocket. Grace didn’t have to crane her neck to look at the caller ID to know that it was John, and with evident disinterest she sank further down in the backseat, listening to Dean’s end of the conversation. 

It was short, but her head perked up as he nodded in the passenger seat. “Yeah, Dad. Alright, got it.” He pulled the phone away from his ear, flipping it closed before he turned his head to Sam. “Pull off the next exit.” 

“Why?” Sam questioned, and this time Grace couldn’t help but sigh out loud as she let her head hit the window. 

“Cause Dad thinks we got the vampires trail.” Dean filled in the blanks, but there wasn’t really much information in the explanation. Grace understood the frustration Sam felt, but she was getting real tired of his sour attitude toward them both. 

“How?” There was a venom in Sam’s tone that Grace didn’t think Dean was blind to, but rather didn’t feel the need to play into anymore. 

“I don’t know. He didn’t say.” Dean shrugged, and Sam’s jaws locked as he revved the engine, speeding around the truck and jerking the wheel until both cars were stopped in the dead center of the road. Grace sighed, sinking further down into the seat as Sam charged out of the car seething with frustration that he couldn’t suffer through anymore. “Oh, crap. Here we go.” 

The car jerked with the force of her brothers slamming the door seconds after one another, and despite every instinct telling her to stay in the car, to let them hash this out on their own, she couldn’t just leave them to face their father without her, so she stepped out of the car seconds later, ensuring that distance was kept between her and John. 

“What the hell was that?!” John came storming out of the truck, his nostrils flared and chin raised as he stomped his way toward Sam who didn’t back down at the show of confidence. 

“We need to talk.” The middle-child seethed, his chin raised all the same as Johns. 

“About what?” John spit, his eyes filled with a fire that was usually directed toward Grace. The youngest Winchester took a step back instinctively, stumbling into the Impala with a near soundless thud. Dean reached out tentatively, pulling her closer by her elbow if only to offer the smallest semblance of comfort. It didn’t do much to settle Grace’s nerves, but she appreciated the sentiment of it regardless. 

“About everything.” Sam’s voice was filled with fury, and Grace can’t think of a time when she’d heard him so beyond mad. She’s always hated conflict, but there’s something about seeing her calm, always level-headed brother so worked up that has her reeling for something to ground herself to. “Where are we going, Dad? What’s the big deal about this gun?” 

“Sammy come on, we can Q&A after we kill all the vampires.” Dean stepped forward, his breath fanning across the air as it dawned on Grace how truly cold it was. The mountains didn’t care about seasons, and the near frozen temperatures only showed that fact. 

“Your brother’s right. We don’t have time for this.” 

“Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous to be together. Now, out of the blue, you need our help. Now obviously something big’s going down, and we want to know what!” Sam was seething with anger, his jaw clenched and every muscle in his body rigid as he refused to back down. Grace shifted on her feet, inching closer to the chaos despite every instinct in her body telling her to stay away and keep distance between herself and her fathers fists. 

“Get back in the car.” John demanded, nodding toward the Impala. 

“No.” 

“I said get back in the damn car.” John stepped closer to Sam. Maybe it was seeing her brother in the position that she’d always been in, or maybe it was just finally her breaking point. Whatever the reason, Grace found herself pushing past Dean, pulling at Sam’s arm until she could position herself between her father and her brother. 

“He said no.” She growled, adrenaline rushing through her body as her fingertips buzzed with a sudden energy she hadn’t possessed before, or ever. “You cannot keep doing this! You cannot keep treating us like children and expecting us to act like soldiers! We’re not soldiers, Dad! We’re grown adults! Adults that are only here to help you! So why don’t you get your head out of your ass for one fucking minute to tell us what the hell is going on?!” Grace flinched when John’s hand came hurtling toward her already bruised face, but in a moment of confidence, or maybe stupidity, she caught his wrist between her ice cold finger tips, her hard eyes narrowed into thin daggers that looked a lot like his. “I am not a child that you can manipulate and abuse. Not anymore.” 

Grace doesn’t know when his wrist slipped from between her fingers, but she recognizes the sting of pain before she even realizes he’s reeled back to hit her again. Her nose pulses with every beat of her racing heart in her chest, and a trail of something warm and thick dirties her upper lips. She doesn’t have to wipe at her nose to know that it’s blood, and even though every part of her wants to fall to her knees and cry about how she’s back in this position when she’d promised herself the night she ran away that she’d never come back to this, she doesn’t so much as bristle as the breeze trails past her damp face. 

“I’ve had enough of your damn mouth.” John seethed, stepping forward to strike her again as Grace becomes increasingly aware of Dean’s raised voice beside her; the ringing between her ears finally dwindled down to silence as the shock of his previous blow ebbs away. 

“That’s enough! That’s enough, Gracie.” He pulls her back by the loose fabric of his jacket around her torso, but before she can shrug his hands off of her and step up to John again, the satisfaction of finally standing up for herself an addictive sensation, Dean is slotting his body between them, his shoulders squared and rigid. “That goes for you too. And I swear, if you ever put your fucking hands on her again, it won’t be her that fights back. You hear me? Do you hear me!” He raises his voice, but John doesn’t answer. All he does is scoff and shake his head, already making his way back to the truck. 

Grace huffs, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. She barely flinches at the blood that smears across her palm and the sleeve of Dean’s jacket, retreating back to the car with pent up anger weighing her down. She slams the door behind her, grumbling beneath her breath as she leans between the seats and sets her eyes on Sam. 

“Set my nose.” She demands gruffly, her eyes glazed over with residual anger and stinging pain. She’s not fully here with them, that much Sam can tell as he searches for glimpses of sweet green in her dark eyes. He doesn’t know how to handle the situation when he’s never seen her so… Sam doesn’t even have a word to describe Grace’s attitude at the moment, but it scares him to no end to consider how after an entire lifetime of abuse, tonight was her breaking point. Pride ripples off of his shoulders – pride in her, pride in himself – but he’s otherwise frozen as he looks at the young woman who bears no resemblance to his little sister at this moment. “Sam, set my fucking nose!” 

“Come here.” Dean’s voice is gruff as it washes across his two younger siblings, and Grace snaps her gaze toward him instantaneously out of learned instinct. She hadn’t heard him get in the car, hadn’t registered the door slamming shut or his presence in the slightest, but as the seconds pass her by and the engine in the truck revs beside them, she’s beginning to fall away from the front of disassociation that had tried to save her active mind from the trauma of confronting the man who scares her more than any monster or spirit ever could. She leans her head into Dean’s hands, already knowing what lies ahead of her as she pinches her eyes shut and nods her head in acceptance of the pain that’s to come. Dean doesn’t give her a countdown, but he feels around her nose for a couple of seconds before he’s gripping both sides of it and straightening it out. She groans, recoiling backward instinctively as another stream of blood falls above her lip. “You okay?” 

“Peachy.” Grace huffs, but as Sam straightens out the car and lets John pull out in front of them on the road again, she deflates entirely, suddenly feeling the weight of her exhaustion as she rubs at her swollen eyes. “You stuck up for me.” She muses softly, pulling at the tips of her fingers with anxious uncertainty, the invincibility that had washed over her when adrenaline was coursing through her veins slowly dissipating the longer she sat with the memory of recent events playing like a highlight reel in her head. 

Dean scoffed out a breath, but he nodded his head regardless after a handful of seconds passed by. “Yeah, yeah.” He shrugs her comment off, but her eyes are burning holes into his shoulder, and he can’t avoid the conversation despite how he wants to. Dean Winchester had never been good at emotional displays, but Grace very rarely gave him the choice of backing away from them. “I meant what I said Gracie, I did think this time would be different. The way he talked about the both of you when you were at Stanford – I just thought he’d at least try to turn a new leaf. Can we cut the chick-flick shit?” 

“No, because I am a chick. That rule only applies to Sammy and you know it.” The youngest Winchester huffed, uncrossing her arms only to drop them at her sides like they weighed too much for her to carry. “You know that wasn’t the first time he broke my nose?” 

For once, Dean didn’t try to shut down the conversation. For once, all he did was try his best to actually listen to Grace as she opened up her heart to him. He craned his head to peer into the backseat, comforted by the sight of her sprawled against the leather seats. She hadn’t sat like that in weeks, she’d been keeping herself closed off and small, but a piece of Dean’s heart heals as he keeps his eyes on her now. 

“I don’t remember him ever breaking your nose before.” Sam frowned, evidently paying more attention to the conversation than either Grace or Dean had first thought. Frustration and anger was still rolling off of his shoulder in waves, but he’d always been good at keeping his feelings away from Grace. Even if she wasn’t aware, she had been both of her brother's soft spots for as long as they could remember. 

“Because you weren’t there.” Grace says softly, her eyes saddened and brimming with tears. “Whenever Dad took me on hunts… they were never as long as he told you they were. Sometimes we’d be gone a week, but the hunt itself would only take two or three days. One time–” Grace looks down, her hands beginning to tremble at the memory that plays at the forefront of her mind like it had been burned there by someone sadistic and cruel. “One time, when I had the flu, he took me out to South Dakota to kill some pissed off spirit. Shit went wrong, and he just– he just flipped; finished the hunt himself and dragged me back to Bobby’s. He must’ve hit me a few hundred times. That was when he was the worst. When he didn’t have to worry about you asking questions, when he didn’t have anyone there to stop him. At, uh, at one point he punched me so hard that I fell over, and then he just kept kicking me. I don’t remember much honestly. It’s like… glimpses, flashes. All I really remember is that he kept throwing rocks at me, telling me to get up, yelling at me to get up. I tried, but I couldn’t and I puked all over myself. That pissed him off even more, he grabbed me by my shirt, pulled me up to my feet. He, uh, he had his hand around my neck. It was one of the first times he said he’d kill me and I actually believed him. If Bobby hadn’t gotten back from his own hunt, I really think he would’ve killed me that night.” Grace, despite herself, smiles sadly at the memory. She can’t look up at her brothers. She doesn’t want to know what they look like. But, she’s not done. Somehow, there’s more to the story that isn’t really a story at all. It’s her life. The tragic and twisted existence of Grace Campbell Winchester. “Bobby brought me inside. I didn’t think anything was broken, I tried to tell him that, but he wouldn’t leave it alone. I’ve never seen Bobby so scared, so terrified for anyone. The way he looked at me… I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. He looked at me like one wrong move would be enough to finish what Dad didn’t. He set my nose back in place, but I can’t even remember how Dad broke it. If it was his fist or his foot or one of the rocks he threw, I– I don’t know. I just know that I stayed with Bobby for a couple of days after that. Dad went off to do another hunt, or I don’t know, maybe he just got wasted at a bar and got a motel room somewhere. I just– all I remember is that four days later he showed up, told me to get in the car, and we drove back to that crappy ass motel he left you at. Before we got inside he told me not to tell you, that if I said anything, he’d have no problem killing me for real and making sure it hurt.” 

“Gracie, look at me.” Dean pleaded tenderly, his voice thick with tears as he searched for the only pair of eyes that could make him question doing something stupid and reckless but she refused to look at anything besides her blood stained hands in her lap. She doesn’t know what had changed her mind about sharing that specific encounter, but she doesn’t think she feels any lighter in the aftermath of its exposure. “Look at me, sweetheart. Please.” 

Grace’s bloodshot eyes trail up to meet Dean’s after a beat of thick silence, and her bottom lip trembles as she sets her gaze on his crestfallen green gaze. The green gaze that they share. The green gaze that is so entirely Mary it almost hurts Dean to even look at his sister and see someone so broken down they're hardly even recognizable. Mary would hate what they’ve become. Hate what John simultaneously made of them and unmade of them. Sometimes, he doesn’t even feel like a person. He’s got such a misconstrued sense of his own autonomy that life or death doesn’t feel like such a weighted gamble of cards. What Dean Winchester hates the most is that the two kids he gave his own childhood up for – to raise and nurture when nobody else was around to do it –, have the same troubles embedded deeply in their instincts. “You don’t have to say anything, Dean.” Grace deflated sadly, wanting to just move on, to focus on the hunt and maintaining pleasantries with their father who is undoubtedly stewing in his wild anger only a car ahead of them.

“No, I do. I do, Gracie. I should’ve said something to both of you a long time ago.” Dean shakes his head, so often forgetting that he hadn’t willfully been a silent observer of the abuse. Grace hates that he blames so much of her suffering on himself, but she’s guilty of the same fate when there’s nothing else to keep her mind busy. “I’m not going to let him lay another finger on you, and if does, if I’m not there to stop it and shit happens, you come and find me, and I’ll deal with it. You hear me, sweetheart? He so much as grabs you too tight and I’ll handle it. I’ll finish him.” 

“You know I don’t blame you right? Either of you.” She asked softly, her voice wavering as she breathed through her mouth, her nose still throbbing at the center of her face. She’d need ice and Advil whenever they had a chance to dig through their duffles, but for now, she could live with the reminder that she’d finally stood her ground in some capacity. “The only one I blame is Dad, and it looks like we’re stuck with him for the foreseeable future, so can you stop trying to dig your own grave? And can you please stop looking like you’re going to tear his head off? This is what you wanted, and maybe it didn’t turn out the way you hoped, but we still have a job to do and I cannot be the only one thinking straight. I mean, we’re up against fucking vampires, you should be bouncing off the walls and you should be stressed beyond belief because halloween came early.” 

“Halloween did not come early.” Sam huffs, a small smile cracking his stoic expression as he threw a glare at Grace over his shoulder, his grip on the wheel loosening just slightly as he let her words wash over him. He couldn’t promise his best behavior, but he could certainly try if it meant keeping her happy. 

“We’re literally up against Dracula and his evil family, Sammy. Halloween basically came early.” Grace rolled her eyes, feeling more like herself as she taunted her brother and his eternal hatred for anything related to the tail-end of October. 

“Freaking vampires, dude!” Dean bellowed, and that was all that it took for peace to be restored amongst the siblings, John’s presence no longer so daunting now that Grace knew they had each other's back in any circumstance. 

-

Grace stood between her brothers in broad daylight, concealed by only a couple of overgrown and intertwined branches as they scooped out the vampire nest from a distance. John stood only a few inches away, his eyes memorizing the terrain that they’d stumbled across intently. Dean grumbled at her side, shaking his head as he watched two vampires engage in a rushed conversation before slipping into the abandoned barn. One lingered by the doors, sweeping his gaze across the expanse of trees and shrubbery before he disappeared too. 

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered beneath his breath, “So they’re really not afraid of the sun?”

“No, direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill them is by beheading them.” Grace’s nose scrunched at the violent nature of their only true weakness, and subtly she was reminded of her reset nose when an ache ran deep through her bones. She stepped just slightly to the left, her forearm brushing against Dean’s as she created distance between her fathers body and her own. She could talk a big game about carrying on with the hunt and letting the past take up residence on a back burner, but instinct was something harder to control. Dean nudged her with his elbow, nodding just slightly to convey his watchful eye. He meant what he’d said. John Winchester would never lay another hand on her if he had any say in the matter; and he’d make sure he got a say this time around. “And, yeah, they sleep during the day. It doesn’t mean they won’t wake up.” 

“So I guess walking right in’s not our best option.” Dean assumed, and Grace was inclined to agree that walking right into a vampire's nest was a dumb play, but John’s reaction insinuated the very opposite. 

“Actually, that’s the plan.” He mused, nodding toward their cars parked a few feet away in a clearing not visible to the barn doors. They followed him cautiously, stepping over twigs and branches that would give away their position if even one of the creatures heard something suspicious. 

She pulled the trunk of the Impala open, her eyes training over the stuffed bear she’d taken possession of all of those weeks ago in Kansas. A saddened warmth spread through her chest at the memory of Mary burning before her own two eyes, but she pushed it aside. Now was not the time nor place to unpack her boatload of parental traumas. 

“Dad, I’ve got an extra machete if you need one.” Dean called over his shoulder as he looked to John who had his own trunk open and was scrounging through his collection of weapons for something specific. 

“Think I’m okay. Thanks.” He replied drying, unsheathing a machete that glimmered beneath the overcast sky. Its blade was impressive, not something that Grace had seen before, and the irony that he suddenly had a weapon of that nature in a hunt like this didn’t leave her entirely. For someone who said he’d never hunted a vampire and thought all they were all extinct, he certainly had the weapons and knowledge to disprove that. 

“Wow.” Dean hummed, turning back to the trunk. Grace’s fingers were curled together in a pattern that Dean hadn’t seen since his teenage years, but a broad smile broke across his lips as he shook his head. Years ago, they’d created a silent code for the times when their father was being nothing short of an arrogant dick. It was one of the only ways that they could get anything beneath his nose, and still Dean found humor in it, even if this time his smile was drawn from the stirrings of nostalgia that blossomed in his chest. 

“So… you boys really want to know about this colt?” Grace could only roll her eyes at the fact that her father refused to acknowledge her, but she didn’t say anything. Truth was, they did want to know, and she was willing to sacrifice her pride if it meant gaining precious insight. 

“Yes sir.” Sam replied, his attention snapping to John instantaneously. 

John sighed, and for a second his eyes lingered on Grace angled between his boys so perfectly that it looked like something natural. John couldn’t remember a time when his kids had been so at ease around him, and even if their shoulders were still rigid with tension, there was something about their closeness that struck him deeply. “It’s just a story… A legend, really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel’s letter. Back in 1835, when Halley’s comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun… a special gun. He made it for a hunter – a man like us, only on horseback. The story goes he made thirteen bullets. This hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. ‘Til somehow, Daniel got his hands on it. They say– they say this gun can kill anything.”

“Kill anything like supernatural anything?” Dean questioned, astonishment laced within his tone. Grace stood straighter at the realization, her gaze falling upon that hidden corner of the trunk where she’d tucked her precious bear in between a pocket knife and the first aid kit Dean kept. 

“Like the thing that killed Mom.” Grace whispered as she trailed her gaze back to John, looking at him with so much confidence he almost didn’t have a clapback for her direct mentioning of Mary. Almost. He opened his mouth, probably to threaten her into silence, but she stepped up closer, her voice even and calm as she raised her chin. “You do not have the right to take her away from me. Maybe I don’t remember her, but she is still my Mom. The only one I’ll ever have. So why don’t you just get on with it instead of wasting any more time that we don’t have.” 

John, for once in his life, listened. “Yeah, the demon.” He licked at his lips, shifting his gaze to Sam who stood in the same state of shock as Dean. “Ever since I picked up its trail, I’ve been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun… we may have it.” 

Grace nodded, looking directly at her father, no longer afraid to so much as meet his eye without explicit permission. “Well let’s go then. I’d say it's about twenty years overdue.” 

-

Grace climbed through a window after Sam, standing on piles of hay that sank beneath her weight. Dean was right behind her, and softly he closed the boards up after he’d climbed through, drowning them in near complete darkness before their eyes adjusted to the change in light. John was ahead of them, but what else lay ahead of them was incredibly daunting. At least four vampires laid asleep in makeshift hammocks, their arms folded over their stomachs as they assumed the same near identical positions. 

She kept close to Sam, and Dean kept close to her. They had each other's backs, and that was as much comfort as Grace was going to get before they managed to secure the gun. As they stalked through the barn, it became evident that it wasn’t just four vampires that surrounded them, but over a dozen, and chills crawled up her spine as she grimaced internally. She snapped ehr gaze to Dean when teh toe of his shoe clashed against an abandoned bottle of beer, his shoulder jostling the hammock that a vampire rested in soundly. Their eyes widened, and both siblings froze to gauge the reaction that was to come, but when nothing happened and the vampire settled back into sleep, Grace breathed a silent sigh of relief. 

“Dean, Gracie.” Sam whispered for their attention, crouched beside a woman that Grace could only see half off. She crept closer, blood stains coming into view. Sam was already busy trying to untie the ropes that bound the woman, but Grace and Dean snapped their gaze to the far corner of the room when they heard a muffled sound. 

“There’s more.” Dean whispered, and Grace nodded, already back on her feet and heading in the direction that they’d heard the slightest commotion from. Dean grabbed onto a metal lever, putting both of his hands around the cold material to dampen the noise, but a clanking squeak still echoed around the barn and Grace kept careful watch of the vampires surrounding them. One of the guys shifted in his sleep, but thankfully he remained that way. 

The quiet didn’t last long, and Grace flinched into Dean when a near demonic sounding scream came from the woman bound to the pole in the center of the barn. All at once the other vampires woke, bouncing to their feet as they took in the sight of intruders around them. 

John smashed a window in the corner of the barn, his eyes wild as he looked over his shoulders to locate his children; all three of them. “Kids, run!” He threw out the order, and they listened, but Grace faltered when her eyes caught something silver in the distance. She stumbled on her feet, but didn’t go back for the gun that caught her attention. There would be another opportunity, their had to be.

When sunlight broke across her face, she squinted at the intrusion of bright light, running through the wooded area where the calls of her brother's voices created an audible path. “Gracie! Dad!” 

“I’m right here. God, I’m right here, stop fucking yelling you idiot!” She groaned, batting her hand against Dean’s shoulder when she got close enough to reach them. Dean rolled his eyes at her attitude, but stopped calling for John, realizing that he was essentially giving their covered position away. “They have the colt.” She told her brothers, confirming that they were chasing the right lead for more than just a police scanner call. 

“They won’t follow. They’ll wait till tonight. Once a vampire gets your scent, it’s for life.” John panted as he came running up to them, and Grace could only roll her eyes at the fact that he was only thinking to tell them that small detail now. 

“What the hell do we do now?” Dean threw back at their father, evidently less than impressed with that simple answer. 

“You got to find the nearest funeral home, that’s what.” Dean reared back at the cheap solution, his eyes widening for a brief moment before he schooled his features. 

-

Grace stood beneath the cover of nightfall only a few feet away from where Dean had parked the Impala. There’s a crossbow at her side, arrows from John already loaded into the weapon. She doesn’t know what they are, but she doesn’t really care. All she knows is that he’d sent her and Dean out as bait, but not without shoving the weapons into her empty hands, demanding that she prove she hasn’t lost her worth in the years that it had been since they’d seen each other. She doesn’t want to think about how his eyes had flashed with something genuine as she nodded to the instruction, but she can't help but consider that maybe she doesn’t know him as well as she’d thought. Regardless, his sudden care for her wellbeing doesn’t change her opinion of him. If anything, it only pisses her off more. She doesn’t need him anymore; doesn’t want him. She’s long since abandoned the desire to win his affection and praise. All that she cares about is doing her part in keeping her brothers alive. 

She waits for the perfect moment before she reaches for the weapon, letting the arrows cut through the darkness of night only when she’s certain that she has the perfect shot. Both arrows pierce through the hearts of the vampires, and they crane their necks to face the expanse of trees behind them. Her heart is hammering, unable to recall the last time she’d even held a crossbow, but the knowledge that after all the time that had elapsed and she was still a perfect shot had her jogging toward her brother without concern. Sam and John were right behind her, and Grace couldn’t pinpoint when they’d arrived, but she smiled cheekily at Sam over her shoulder, wiggling her eyebrows tauntingly. For a second, she was just the girl he’d started to know at Stanford, and Sam had never been so glad to see that stupid smile in his life. 

“Barely even stings.” The woman calls over her shoulder, looking straight at Grace who still holds onto the weapon of choice for the night. She can only shrug, but John has more to say.

“Give it time, sweetheart. That arrows soaked in dead man's blood. It’s like poison to you, isn’t it?” Grace’s gaze trailed down to her fingers, suddenly aware of the fact that she’d touched both arrows to lace them into the weapon. She could roll her eyes at John’s inability to ever be truly transparent, but she pockets the complaint for a later date. The woman’s eyes began to grow heavy, and in second both vampires dropped to the ground. “Load her up. I’ll take care of this one.” 

The last thing Grace saw before she turned to help her brothers was John slicing the head of the vampire off with one clean blow. 

-

“Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk, cabbage, and trillium – it’ll block our scent and hers until we’re ready.” John hummed, a fire burning bright beside Grace as she stood in the middle of the woods beside her brothers. 

Dean coughed, pacing the rough terrain with understandable restlessness. “Stuff stinks.” He commented, and Grace could only shake her head at his reflection. 

“Well, that’s the idea. Dust your clothes with the ashes and you’ll stand a chance of not being detected.” Grace didn’t have to be told twice, mostly because it wasn’t her jacket she was ruining by spreading ash across her chest and sleeves. She shot Dean a cheeky smile, flaunting his ash covered jacket in a silly spin that had him chuckling and shaking his head. She’d never been so light in the presence of John, had never been so light in the presence of Dean, but new leaves had been turned since he’d punched her, and fear was something she muddled through so intensely. She could only hope it lasted, but if this was all that she ever got of ‘peace’, she’d take it as a win. 

“You sure they’ll come after her?” Sam questioned, looking back at John. 

“Yeah. Vampires mate for life. She means more to the leader than the gun. But the blood sickness is gonna wear off soon, so you don’t have a lot of time.” 

“Half-hour outta do it.” Dean hummed, stepping up to the conversation with Grace on his heels. 

“And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can.” Grace frowned at the ultimatum, or, direct order. She’d been thrown enough orders in her life to know when something was optional, and John’s direction to leave town was definitely not that. 

“Woah, Dad. You can’t take care of them all yourself.” Dean fought back, but John shook his head. 

“I’ll have her and the colt.” He tried to reason, but all Grace heard was bullshit masculinity and its inability to let anyone else help. She hadn’t thought for a second that things with him would be any different, but somehow she didn’t expect this. 

“But after, we’re gonna meet up, right? Use the gun together, right?” Sam questioned, his voice laced with something that Grace couldn’t determine. His words were pointed, level and directed, but there was still something else lingering in his civil tone. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you? You still want to go after the demon alone? You know, I don’t get you. You can’t treat us like this.” 

John looked toward the fire before his gaze swept back to Sam, who’d thrown his promise to the wind, but for once, Grace was right behind him, not bristling at the conflict that was beginning to rise between them. “Like what?” 

“Like children.” Sam snaps, the same argument eating away at him each time it slips away from focus unsolved and unaddressed.

“You are my children. I’m trying to keep you safe. All of you.” John looked right at Grace, and there was that genuinity again. She stepped back instinctively, her body partially concealed by Dean as she tried to make sense of his sudden care. She hated this. Hated that she’d finally been ready to cut her ties with him and this is how he acts; like the father she’d wanted when she was seven.

“Dad, all due respect, but that’s a bunch of crap.” Dean sighed, not willing to stand out in the cold and let their father lie to their faces to save his own ass another time. He’d endured this treatment for years, but he’d finally reached his limit.  

“Excuse me?” John recoiled, and both Grace and Sam turned their gaze to him, jaws hanging slack as they watched Dean make good on his promise that wasn’t solely aimed at the youngest Winchester. He’d meant what he said about sticking his neck out; not letting history repeat itself. But, he hadn’t meant it only for Grace. He’d meant it for Sam too, but more importantly, he meant it for himself. He didn’t want to be a soldier anymore; he couldn’t be. Not when he’d finally seen what could become of him if he just acted on his own impulses every once in a while. 

“You know what Gracie and Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can’t be that worried about keeping us safe. I mean, fuck Dad, you’ve never been worried about keeping Gracie safe at all. That was my job. My responsibility. So why don’t you let it stay that way.” He prattled on, and Grace could only dip her head down at the mention of her name. She knows what he gave up for her, but she desperately wished he hadn’t had to. It’s not her fault that it happened, but that doesn’t lessen the guilt she carries. 

“It’s not the same thing, Dean.” John shook his head, but that only further frustrated his children who were damn near fed up with being kept in what seemed like eternal darkness. 

“Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?” 

“This demon… It's a bad son of a bitch. I can’t make the same moves if I’m worried about keeping you alive.” He relented, but even with his spoken word, little was actually revealed to the siblings. John Winchester just had a way of being elusive without even batting an eye. 

“You mean you can’t be as reckless.” Dean snapped back, going toe-to-toe with their father, tired of just being the little boy that listened and obeyed blindly. He’d played that role for twenty-six years, he couldn’t stand to fill the shoes for another second. 

“Look, I don’t expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mothers death… it almost killed me.” Dean looked away at the mention of Mary, and John shook his head, growing teary. “I can’t watch my children die, too. I won’t.” 

“What happens if you die?” Dean’s voice wavered with the slightest indication of vulnerability before it grew cold and detached, his jaw clenching as he spoke. “Dad, what happens if you die and we could have done something about it? You know, I’ve been thinking. I think maybe Sammy’s right about this one. I think we should do this together.” He was pleading at this point, begging with John to let them see this through with him. Grace couldn’t admit it, but a piece of her yearned for the same thing as her brothers. She may hate the man, may despise his presence next to her, but she couldn’t be an orphan. She still can’t even begin to handle the fact that she’s already down one parent. “We’re stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it.”

“We’re running out of time.” John nodded, entirely bypassing the point that Dean had been trying to drive home. Grace deflated behind her brother, taking a step away in wild defeat and discouragement. She hates the thought of being around John, but she wants to have a hand in righting her mothers death. It’s not fair that even after all of this, John still dangles any kind of closure over her head. Every part of her knows that he’s incapable of change, but a piece of her heart breaks as she realizes that nothing about them will ever be enough to get him to stay. “You do your time, and you get out of the area. That’s an order.” 

She scoffs as she shakes her head, turning her back to her brothers and her father as she made her way back to the Impala wordlessly. She’d fought for John to love her for years, she wouldn’t let herself waste anymore time on someone that had never been what he should’ve been for her. 

The door slams behind her, and she sinks into the leather seats wearing a pout of frustration. When Sam and Dean sink into the seats up front, a beat of silence passes before the engine roars to life and Dean pulls out onto the road like a bat out of hell, the timer already running out of time. 

-

Grace crawls through the window after her brothers, silently landing on the bails of hay that are stacked up against the boarded wall. She brushes her blood stained clothes off, grimacing at the hay that still sticks to her and sends prickly sensations down her spine whenever she moves. She creeps through the hallways wordlessly, grinning beside Dean as they sweep a coin off of the desk and listen to it clank as it hits the floor. She slips into the hallway, gripping tightly to a machete that conveniently is perched against the wall of the barn. She doesn’t let herself think about the irony of this nest of vampires housing the very weapons that can kill them, focusing instead on the plan at hand. 

She holds her breath as a vampire stalks through the barn searching for the cause of the sound, and when he’s just a few steps ahead of her, Dean pops out from the sideroom, a grin on his lips as he whispers, “Boo!” The vampire didn’t even have a chance to spin on his heels and search for Grace before she was wielding the machete with practiced ease, slicing his head clean off in a second. 

“That is either the coolest thing I’ve ever done on a hunt or the most disgusting.” She grimaces as blood drips down her face and further stains her clothing. She can’t tell what’s her blood or his anymore, but the satisfaction in knowing she’d killed the evil they stumbled across eased the disgust pooling in her belly as warm blood began to cool on her skin. 

She wiped a palm down her face, wiping the blood into the fabric of her pants as she followed Dean. When he had what he was searching for, he nodded toward the window where Sam was waiting with a machete from the trunk, having taken the role of lookout reluctantly. 

“We’re going back for him, aren’t we?” Grace questions as she lands on the ground, brushing off her clothes again as dirt and hay stick to her. 

“Obviously.” Dean retorted and Grace nodded promptly, not having it in her to argue about what their next move should be. Their father couldn’t handle what was coming his way, even if he didn’t know that, Grace did, and despite herself and every self-preservation tactic she’d learned since childhood, she couldn’t get herself to be the kind of person to walk away when showing up mattered most. 

-

The headlights from John’s truck shone brightly in the expanse of darkness as Grace and her brothers rushed through the wooded area toward the gravel road. Grace wielded a crossbow with elegance, hardly bristling as she aimed for the chest of a woman and shot blankly, the poison coated arrow piercing directly through the vampire's sternum. Sam was only steps ahead of her, but before Grace could make a move to shoot the approaching vampire, he’d gained the upper hand and wrangled Sam into his grip. 

“Don’t! I’ll break his neck.” He warned dangerously, hooking his arm around Sam’s neck with a threatening tightness that had Grace lowering the crossbow just slightly. Grace’s gaze trailed to Dean as leaves rustled beside her, and she found her brother gripping at the handle of a blood soaked machete with genuine fear shining brightly behind his green eyes. “Put the blade down.” He only tightened his grip when Dean looked to contemplate the ultimatum, and Sam began to gasp for air as his windpipe was crushed ruthlessly and slowly. 

“Dean!” Grace called, shaking her head as she dropped the crossbow fully, allowing it to dangle at her side as she looked back at Sam whose cheeks were beginning to redden with the lack of oxygen. 

The vampire, a man that Grace had no interest learning the name of, stared straight at Dean as the machete clanked at the impact of thin metal meeting the rough ground. “You people. Why can’t you just leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do.” 

“I don’t think so.” Grace hadn’t even noticed her father pick himself up from the ground, but her gaze snapped to him at the sound of a gunshot firing. The colt glistened beneath the moonlight, one of its carefully crafted bullets slicing through the air before it embedded itself in the creature's head right between his deep eyes. Grace didn’t take another moment to take in the sight of blood slowly slipping from the wound, instead, she rushed to Sam, the crossbow forgotten in the clearing of brittle grass as her sneakers padded against the ground bringing her closer to where Dean held Sam upright by his shoulders. 

Sam shrugged Grace’s concerned hands off of him as he turned to fully watch the vampire succumb to his injury. Light flickered from the hole in his head before he dropped to his knees on the gravel, groaning in pain before everything became still.

“Kate, don’t!” Another vampire called when a girl cried out in distress, attempting to rush toward her fallen leader before she was held back protectively. It was only a handful of seconds later that car doors were slamming shut and the vampires that remained sped away, their headlights shining bright in the darkness before they ebbed away. 

Grace Winchester took one look at her father before she shook her head, abandoning the fight and turning toward the direction of where the Impala was parked in the near distance but out of earshot. The leaves crunched beneath her feet, but she said nothing as she sought out escape. 

-

Grace’s hair was damp as she sifted through clothing that her brothers had somehow strewn across the room in the few hours that they’d actually occupied the motel room. She’d finally washed the blood off of her body and traded in her soiled clothes for new ones, but even with the seven minute shower she still felt heavy and out of sorts. She sighed as she threw a flannel at Dean, deciding against stealing it for herself when she noticed the grease stain smeared along the left side of the thin article. She stood in only pink pajama pants and a Stanford t-shirt when the motel door creaked open again, her father finally making his presence known. 

“So, boys…” Grace could only shake her head in exasperation when her father entirely bypassed her existence, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care that much as she continued to sift through the random garments within reach. She threw a t-shirt on top of Sam’s duffle bag, wondering how they’d created such a mess in the first place when all they’d done was steal a handful of hours of rest. 

“Yes, sir.” Dean cleared his throat, turning around to face John fully. Sam stepped up beside him, unintentionally shielding Grace from John’s sight. The youngest Winchester didn’t notice, but the eldest did, and John squared his shoulders at the realisation that he was being barred from looking at his own daughter. 

“You ignored a direct order back there.” John continued, deciding that now wasn’t the time to breach any kind of conversation pertaining to Grace. 

“Yes, sir. But we saved your ass.” Dean made sure to highlight what mattered, and Grace could only manage a smirk as she settled into the realization that it wasn’t just a one time promise. Even if it would take time to truly separate himself from everything that he’d been blindly following for years, Dean was putting the effort in where it mattered. 

“You’re right.” John relented, and Grace frowned at the simple resolution, turning around to witness the conversation as she pulled an old hoodie over her head. She can’t even remember the last time she’d seen Dean wear a hoodie, but now wasn’t the time to question why he was still holding on to the tattered thing. 

“I am?” Dean questioned skeptically, taking a step closer to Sam when he caught the slightest glimpse of Grace moving in his peripheral. All three Winchesters were on edge, knowing exactly what kind of treatment Grace would be subjected to taking had this occurred only two years ago. Dean wasn’t going to let it happen now, but still he worried about not being able to prevent it. 

“It scares the hell out of me. You…you three are all I’ve got. But I guess we are stronger as a family.” Grace bristled at the words rolling off of John’s tongue, unable to picture a reality where her father ever admitted that she was worth bringing along. She hates that this is what she’s wanted for her entire life, and now that it's falling at her feet laced with sincerity, it feels wrong and misplaced. She hates that John is willing to step up, be the man he should’ve been albeit still with faults and ridged edges, but she’s already moved on. It’s too little too late. “So… we go after this damn thing…together.” 

“Yes, sir.” Dean and Sam nodded but Grace couldn’t just let that be all that was said after years of torment and abuse; after he’d just broken her nose and backhanded her like she was just an insignificant child. He’d burned the bridge to her heart a long time ago, and there was no way to restore scattered ashes. 

“I’ll help you, because she is my mom, and this is my fight as much as it is yours, but you are not my family. You will never be my family.” She spat uncaringly, slinging her dufflebag over her shoulder and heading for the door, stepping around her father and her brothers. The light from the lamps fell upon her face, catching on the swelling around her eyes and the bruising to her cheek bone. 

John Winchester might be ready to finally accept his only daughter, but Grace Winchester has no obligation to forgive the years of anguish he’d inflicted on her.

[alessandra-14]

I finally found you

Dean Winchester x daughter!reader , Sam Winchester x niece!reader

Summary: Y/N who just lost her mother, discovers that her father is Dean Winchester and seeks him out. She meets him and his brother during a spontaneous hunt where she gets hurt.

Word count: 3.4k

It's been requested.

Four months have passed since your mother has died, but it still felt like yesterday. The house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that gnawed at you, reminding you just how alone you were. No family which you could go to and no friends who could support you in any way.

You are only 15 but it feels as if you had lived a lifetime in the past few months. Losing your mother, the woman who raised you, who loved you more than anyone else in this world, was the hardest thing you had ever faced.

Before her painful death, which had been caused by a vampire during a usual hunt, she muttered out your fathers name. Dean Winchester.

You've heard about him before. Of course you did. Dean is a legend in the world of the supernatural. Most hunters know about him and his brother Sam, but you had never imagined that you were tied to them.

After the small funeral, with no family left, you began researching him. It wasn't easy to track down a man who lived off the grid, but with a few well-placed questions and some clever digging, you found some very vague leads. You knew you had to find him, not only because he is your father but because you had nowhere else to go.

....

You had been searching for him for around three in a half months now but with no luck whatsoever. During those two months you've taken on small hunts. Nothing harder than finding the bones and burning them. Your mother taught you a lot about hunting and world of supernatural. Sometimes even took you on easy hunts to learn some more.

That's how you ended up in the woods near a small town. A local ghost story had brought you to these woods. You’d done your research, pieced together the puzzle, and figured it was an easy salt-and-burn situation. That’s what you told yourself, anyway. But something felt off. The air was thick with something darker than you expected, something more than just a restless spirit.

For some reason you thought that it could be just an angry spirit who never got to rest in peace, that's why you decide to check it out.

As you walk through the woods to look for the spirit you suddenly hear loud and heavy footsteps. Quickly you hide into one of the thicker bushes on your left side. Even if it's just a person walking by, it's better to make sure it's completely safe.

In the meantime the two pairs of footsteps stop and all you can hear are their hushed voices.

"Did you hear that Sammy?" One of the men asks. The other man nods "Yeah"

They continue to approach the bush you are hiding in. You quietly take out the only weapon you have on you right now, A silver knife. As they come closer and closer, panic is starting to flow through you. Especially when you see the that they are holding guns. shit what are you supposed to do? Either start talking and slowly come out the bush with your arms raised or you could use your knife to take them out. The chance that it will work is very very low.

Before you can make a proper decision or plan one of the two men speaks up with a gruff voice. "come on out, we won't hurt you. We just want to see if you are a threat."

You can't help but hesitate for a moment. Should you answer that? Maybe they actually don't know you are hiding in a bush. Maybe they just said that to trick you into coming out.

After a quick debate you answer the two men while getting out of the bush. "I'm not a threat."

Sam and Dean frown as they look at you. Sam lowers his gun but Dean keeps it aimed on you "Then put that knife of yours down" Dean's voice is stern and doesn't leave much space for arguing.

But still you shake your head and keep the knife clutched tightly in your hand. Dean obviously doesn't like that. "Put the knife down now!"

At last you do as your told and put down the knife close to your feet.

“What are you doing out here?” Sam called, his voice low but firm.

You look at them closely but because of all the adrenaline it takes you a while to recognize who the two men standing in front of you are. But even so you can still clearly tell that they are definitely hunters.

“Hunting. Same as you.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, his gaze sceptical as he sized you up but still stops pointing the gun at you. “Kid, this isn’t a playground. These woods are dangerous.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the fear creeping into your chest. “I’m not a kid, and I know what I’m doing. There’s a ghost out here. I can handle it.”

Sam stepped forward, his expression softer but equally concerned. “This isn’t a ghost. It’s a werewolf. And it’s close.”

Your blood ran cold. You’d never dealt with anything like that before. Werewolves were a different kind of dangerous—fast, strong, and far from the simple salt-and-burn you were used to.

"Well shit." You sigh scared and then look back up at the brothers and that's when the realization hits you. You have seen these men before. Christ you were searching for one of them since months! And now he is standing right in front of you and you didn't even notice.

Sam and Dean look at you confused as they see your astound expression all of a sudden. Sam is the first to speak up. "Uhm... are you okay kid?"

Even though you already know the answer you still ask them their names just to make sure you're right. "What's your guys names?"

Both of them continue to frown confused but Sam still responds. "Well I'm Sam and he is Dean".

"Winchester?" You ask to clarify it.

Both brother nod. Dean's frown deepens as he is getting more suspicious of you.

You start smiling at their answer. "That's great! I have something really important to tell you Dean. You are m-" You get interrupted by a loud roar. That must definitely come form the werewolf.

All three of you turn towards where the sound came from and lift up their guns again. Sam turns to look at you. "You stay right here. Dean and I will take care of it.

But you are having none of it, so you shake your head and grab the knife, which you put down on the floor earlier.

"What? No! I want to help. " Dean also turns around to look at you and glares like his life depends on it.

"Hell no. If we tell you to stay put, then you stay put. You're going to get yourself killed otherwise."

Once again, his tone doesn't leave much space for arguing, so you roll your eyes and huff annoyed. "Alright. Damn. I'll stay right here"

Before you even know it, they disappear deeper into the woods, following the werewolf's roars.

....

You are left alone with your thoughts and worries. You know that you can't do much to help them. All you have is a knife, which is silver, so that could actually help, but honestly, you are too afraid to follow them and help hunt that werewolf. But at the same time, you feel a strong urge to do something. You can't just sit around and wait for them to return. What if something happens to them. You have finally found your father and uncle after months of searching, and for all you know, they could just die right now.

"Fuck it"

You sigh and wipe the sweat off your forehead before quickly taking off into the same direction.

As you get closer to the two brothers and the werewolf, you can hear that it's not going well at all. You rush even more till you reach them.

Sam is on the muddy ground trying to get up after being knocked over. His gun with the silver bullets is way too far out of his reach, and so I Dean's. What the hell happened. Your father is also getting knocked over and the werewolf is about to slash him so you warn him quick

"Dean, look out!" He manages to roll away, but the werewolf obviously doesn't give up just yet.

You quickly noticed that and ran over to it and stabbed it in its back with your knife. The werewolf shrieks and launches its paw right at you. Its sharp claws dig right into your stomach. The brute force of the werewolf's attack send you flying into the nearest tree.

Dean looks over to you and an unexplainable rage flows through him. He has never felt something like that before. Sure, he has gotten angry when someone hurts Sam, but that's his brother. He doesn't know you. Doesn't even know your name. Why does he feel this way?

He rapidly gets up from the ground and so does Sam. The taller brother grabs the gun which lays on the ground and shoots the werewolf. The silver bullets do an amazing job at killing the monster.

Dean on the other hand is only focused on you right now.

He rushes towards you quickly and kneels down next to you. "Are you alright!? Can you get up?" You get up but it hurts so bad. You try to stand properly which turns out to be harder than you thought

"Yeah I got it" You hold onto your bleeding tummy and press hard on it causing you to wince in pain. 

Dean looks at you in concern. The way you are holding onto your stomach and pressing hard on it, he gets the feeling that there is more damage then just a scratch. He speaks up softly. "Come here, let me take a look." His voice, soft as it is, but still holds the same authority as it did before.

You try to lift up my shirt but it hurts to bad and you whimper once again since the shirt sticks to the bleeding wound a bit.  "Owww" Dean isn't surprised by you whimpering and he immediately gets up and helps you. He lifts your shirt carefully to examine the wound. It's obvious that it's more serious then just a scratch. A long, deep gash runs across your abdomen. Dean raises an eyebrow. "This is serious. You need stitches as soon as possible, kid"

Your breath quickens and you shake my head immediately "No no no I-I'm fine really. It's ok it will heal in no time. No stitches!" Dean sees how distressed you are and speaks with a very gentle but firm voice now.

"Listen to me, sweetheart. This wound is a deep one and I am 99% sure it will leave a scar and may even cause infection if left untreated. I am an expert hunter and I can clearly tell that it's more serious than a little cut. You NEED stitches."

You desperately keep trying to breath but it's not working properly. It hurts so incredibly bad and you can feel your legs feeling more and more weak

"Yeah well we can't go to a hospital. You know that sir" Dean frowns when you call him sir but doesn't address it for now, instead focusing on you and the wound. He speaks in an incredibly comforting voice now, even though it feels very out of character for his usual self. "Don't worry, kid. I have some experience with stitching up wounds. I can treat it myself without the need of a hospital. We can do this at our motel room"

You think for a second and then agree. So you nod. You really need help. You can't die now. Not after finally finding your father and having a chance to have a new life.

You once again try your best to talk and breath properly but you are just in too much pain "Okay, yeah" You whimper the words out.  Dean gives you another look of concerned before speaking up again. "Let's go." Sam joins the two of you and the two men go to help you up and start to walk back to the their car. "Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?" 

You try to take a couple steps. It works out alright. So I nod towards the two men. "I think I got it" You answer quietly and the three of you start walking back towards their car Dean smiles a little seeing that you are able to walk on your own. He leads you over towards their car, which is a big black Chevy Impala. Sam goes towards the driver's seat and starts the engine, while Dean opens the passenger side door and asks you in a concerned voice again.  "Can you get in?" "Yeah" You sit down which causes you to let out a little yelp and a slight cry. God you simply can't wait to get this over with

Sam drives the car while Dean sits right next to you, checking up on your wound every now and then. It's not a fun ride, as Sam keeps hitting the breaks and making sharp turns that makes it uncomfortable and painful to sit. Still, Sam is clearly trying to be as careful as he can, being aware of your injuries and not wanting to risk putting you in even more pain.

You are completely tired so your eyes start closing. You really fight to stay awake but at some point you don't think you can do that for much longer. The tight grip you have on your bleeding stomach is starting to loosen up.  "I'm tired"

Dean notices in the corner of his eye that you are starting to fall asleep. He looks at you in concern and speaks gently but still stern. You can hear a hint of panic in his voice.  "I know, but it's only a few more minutes until we get to our motel room. Just try and hold on for a little while longer, okay? Don't close your eyes, please kid."

Dean thinks about what he can talk to you about so you stay focused on him and not the tiredness you are feeling right now. 

"So kiddo you wanted to say something before the werewolf made it's appearance. You said it was important. What is it?"

"You nod agreeing. Yeah it is pretty important. I have been searching for you for months now" You answer him through painted groans. Dean and Sam both frown at your words. "Why?" 

You look up and into his green eyes and attempt to answer but the words come out unclear and mostly in a whisper because you are just seconds away from completely passing out "Well I found out you're my father" 

You barely finish your sentence when your eyes close themself and you become unconscious. 

Dean looks down at you suddenly when you pass out. His eyes widen and he turns towards Sam, clearly worried about you. "What the hell?!" Dean speaks up right after Sam, concerned as well. "Damn it, she just passed out!"

But the only thing Dean can think about are the words you said. It was hard to hear every single word you said but the word "father" is what he heard loud  and clear. His head is spinning and his thoughts are racing. What the hell is he supposed to do now.

…. You wake up the next day around noon. Once you open your eyes, it takes a minute to realize where you are and what happened. 

You sit up in the motel bed and immediately wince in pain. You lower your head to see and touch the bandage on your stomach. 

Dean seems to be awake and looking back over at you when you wake up. He has a serious expression on his face and he gets up off of the bed when he sees you waking up. "Thank god you are finally awake kid. We were really worried you wouldn't make it." Sam is also awake and he sits up on his bed as well. He doesn't speak, instead looking down at you cautiously.

"Mhm" You mumble and nod, then lay back down with a groan. Everything just hurts. 

Dean walks over towards you and sits down beside the bed. He speaks up in a very concerned voice, now wanting to know everything about what happened in your past. "Take it easy. Are you in a lot of pain, kid? "

slight tears gather in your eyes as you agree. "Yes I am"

Dean is instantly very worried and his eyes widen even more when he sees the tears begin to gather in your eyes. He leans over and gently touches your shoulder. "Can I ask you some questions, kiddo?"

You look up at the man slightly confused. But then remember what you told him last night. Oh shit. you had already forgotten about that. You nod and look over at Sam for a second before returning your gaze to Dean. "Yeah sure"

Your father gives off a relieved sigh when you say yes. He looks at you intently and speaks up with genuine curiosity. "Can I ask you your name first? You never told us last night"

You just now realized that you really haven't told them your name yet, so you tell them.

"And how old are you, kid?" 

You start to slightly fidget with the bandages on your tummy. Even though you should play around with those. They just feel to tight and uncomfortable around your waist and stomach.  "I am 15 years old"

Dean looks at you for a second before he nods and seems to process this information. "Ah. I see. I have another question. Where are your parents?" He asks cautiously. 

Your expression immediately turns sad and you look away from the two hunters. "Oh. My mom is dead. She got killed 4 months ago by a vampire. And well I have been on the look out for my dad these past months. That's you."

You don't say anything for a second before you turn to look at him. "There is a letter in my backpack. It's in the very front. You can take it put and read it. You definitely will want to" Your mom wrote that letter years ago in case something happens and you have to seek out your father. She, of course, always  knew how dangerous her life as a hunter is. She explains everything to him in that long letter. 

Dean is intrigued by what you said right away. His eyes narrow slightly as he quickly gets up from the bed and walks over to your backpack. He unzips it and looks through the items for a minute before he finds the letter and pulls it out. "Is this it?" He holds it in his hand and walks back over towards you, holding it out with the letter towards you. There is clear concern and curiosity on his face as he looks up at you again.

You simply just nod.

Dean reads through the letter quickly. He feels a sudden mix of different emotions as he reads through the letter. The first one is shock, as he quickly realizes that you are in fact his daughter. The second one is confusion but also curiosity at the same time. The third one is guilt, as he realizes that you had to suffer so much while he was absent for years. He looks up to you after he has read the letter. "You are my..daughter?"

You sigh and keep my head down, so that they don't see my tears which ate now coming from a different cause than before. It's all just so overwhelming right now.  "Yes. In case you don't believe or trust me I have her old journal so you can read that if you necessarily want but I can surely tell you that you are my father. 

Dean is silent for a little while as all the emotions run through his body before he is able to respond. He looks down to notice your tears, his face softens further but he doesn't say anything about them yet. "I..I am very sorry for not being there for you. I had absolutely no idea you even existed"

"It's ok. It wasn't your fault. I am just glad that I have finally found you, dad"

A proud smile stretches across his face as he agrees. "Yeah me too, kiddo"

[ellieslittleburrow]

Resuested by @outof-spite : was wondering if you could do a winchester bros & little sister! reader where theyve been arguing constantly lately, and reader is usually combative and always argues back but, this time shes just over the arguing so she just gives up trying to argue with them and kinda goes mute?

Warnings : family fights, yelling

Pairings : Sam/Dean Winchester x sister!reader

A/N : Sorry for the late postt ❤️❤️

-----

Things happen, right? Misunderstandings, judgement, reproaches and blame, all of them, the worst thing that could happen to a family, more importantly-right now-to yours.

Back from a hunt gone bad, you heavily lay in the backseat of the impala, your feet hung over the left window while your head rests over the opposite side of the car.

"Hey-get your feet off my damn leather." A complaint you've heard one too many times, and one you usually fight but- this time, as a sigh leaves your lips, you uncross your legs and bring them down, consequently lifting your upper body to sit up. An avertion from your side that's different from your usual habits, causing the car to fall into heavily loud silence.

And although it is loud with almost audible thoughts and anger, you still enjoy that while it lasts.

And it fucking doesn't last, in fact, just as soon as you entered the motel, another sentence commenced by Sam sent Dean into a fury, and just as things heated up, you found yourself in the middle of it all-again-

"Hey!!-" The shout is directed at you, this you know and choose to disguard. You would answer but- your body is fatigued and so is our mind, answering seems to lead to no vail. You answer, he fights you, you all go to sleep and wake up forcebly normalizing things, as if your throats aren't sore and your brains aren't fried.

"Hey-i'm talking to you-"

The words sound more bitter this time around, and you find yourself reluctantly lifting your gaze up . You look at Dean, slow and undetermined, exhausted.

"I asked you why you did that-You could've waited for us. I know you said there was no time le-" Dean pauses. "And fucking answer me when i talk to you-"

You shrug, causing a choking gasp out of Dean. His eyes widen and he leans forward. "Are you-Is she provok-are you-"

You throw your jacket over the bed, disdain discerned in your every move and you flop on the bed, unaware of the sudden tension that-again- suddenly settles in.

But the thing is--You don't care anymore. You haven't enough energy to get you to fight them once more, neither to explain or defend yourself. Too damn fucking tired is what you are at the moment-Too damn tired of it all.

"Kid?"

You rest your hand over your forehead, closing your eyes in an effort to soothe your aching muscles, and maybe suck in a little more patience.

"Kid."

Your stomach tightens and soon, you'll recess into a bawling mess, so you get off the bed and pick up your jacket.

Please don't lead to another fight, please..You just want it all to be ov-

"What's wrong?"

You shrug once more, shaking your head to motion that all is fine before heading for the door. But Sam comes your way, blocking the door and you blow a long sigh.

"Come here"

Sam grips both of your arms and swiftly-you find yourself glued to his chest. But all happens all too fast-why would he suddenly get all feely- and before you even realize it, you find yourself pushing against him.

"'im sorry-i'm sorry."

A lump builds up in your throat and as flashes of the past few weeks occupy every single space in your brain, your breathing increases-just as it gets harder to breathe. Just the thought of it all_

Your eyes are slowly flooded with warmth, announcing the tears gathering at your eyes. You need to leave. You need to go.

You choke on a sob.

You can't do this anym- "I know, honey. I've been there. I know." And with that, another sob loudly escapes your throat and a whimper follows.

"i've been there with Dad, i didn't realize we were doing that to you-i'm sorry. I see you. I really am sorry."

You shake your head as your cries fill the room, getting increasingly louder the harder Sam rubs your back. But that's not what you need. Not for them to see you-but for them to fucking stop.

"We'll stop. We'll talk. I promise."

You pull away from him, skeptical of a promise you doubt he can hold. And just as you're about to process that, Dean speaks.

"I'm sorry too." His honest tone makes you sigh. This isn't.what.i.want.

"Sam and i are sort've used to it- we lost sight of the fact that it wasn't affecting just us, but you as well. I really am sorry." Sam looks into your eyes and you slightly lean back, averting your gaze.

"It must've been really stresstful for you the past few weeks." Taken aback by his words, you pull your chin away from his hand and turn around, wiping at your tears before resting your hand against your forehead.

"we're sorry, kid."

You shrug, still mistrusftul. Mistrustful but hopeful. Because Sam and Dean are different, fights and bad things might accure but no matter how disconnected from each other they might be, they always come back to each other. And you are no different. You know them well enough.

Your silence is apprehended as anger. "Okay..We understand, we'll leave."

But it's not anger and it's most certainly not hatred. So you envelop Sam again and bury your face in his chest.

Maybe that'll be enough for him to understand?

His surprise manifests through his still figure. "Thank you, honey." That surprise quickly dissipates and he hugs you back. "It..."

"it's going to be okay, honey. We'll make it okay."

------

I hope it isn't too cringe or too cliché because like-who would say sorry in under a minute. But yeah anyway much love sorry byyiii 🍁🍁🍁❤️❤️❤️

[imbadatwrighting]

Reader after getting caught stealing from a mall: Santa knows when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. I get that. He’s got some kind of sensor somewhere. But I never imagine he use mall Santas as his eyes and ears. It’s brilliant! We are so screwed!

Dean: Hun, it’ll be okay. I’m sure you’ll get presents this year.

Reader: Are you, Dean? Are you so sure?

Sam: Yeah, we’re pretty sure.

Reader: I’m sorry, all of a sudden you’re a Santa expert? Did Santa give you an exclusive interview you never told us about? Did you intern in the North Pole as an undergrad?

Dean: That’s not how… you know what? For…just forget it.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The Best Present

Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you give Dean adoption papers for Christmas.

“I’m gonna get us some more beers,” Sam announced as he climbed up the stairs towards the bunker’s exit.

You felt your heart begin to pound faster in your chest—this was the moment.

“You wanna help me clean up?” Dean asked as he began to gather all the wrapping paper—remnants of a great Christmas.

“In a second,” you said, reaching out and stopping Dean’s arm before he could grab more paper. “Can you…would you sit down for a sec?”

“Sure,” Dean said hesitantly, plopping back down in his chair. “Is something wrong?”

You didn’t speak as you reached under the couch cushion you’d just been sitting on and pulled out a manila envelope.

“I’ve got another Christmas present for you,” you muttered as you handed it to Dean. He looked from it to you in confusion before taking it.

“Why couldn’t Sam see it?” He asked, putting the pieces together.

“Just open it,” you insisted. He shrugged and complied.

“What…” Dean stared long and hard at the papers that had fallen out of the envelope and into his waiting hands. “What’s this for?”

“Dean…would you, um…” you swallowed hard, trying to get your breathing under control so you could force the words out. This was harder than you thought it would be. “Do you wanna be my dad?”

The rims of Dean’s eyes reddened as he looked from you to the papers and back. He dropped the pages on the couch and stood, grabbing you and pulling you into his arms.

“It’s just—“ you didn’t know why you felt you had to justify your actions, but now that you’d spoken you couldn’t stop. “It’s just that, you’ve always been there for me and you’ve always felt like a—“

“Don’t—you don’t have to explain anything,” Dean insisted, pulling away. “Yes, of course I…of course I want to be your dad.” He turned back to the papers, grabbing them and laying them out on a coffee table. “A pen, I need a pen, I need—“

“Dean, it’s ok.” You laughed. “They’re not gonna expire. I’ll get you a pen.”

“I know, it’s just—“ Dean suddenly started to laugh with you. “I just…this is—“

“You don’t have to explain anything,” you mimicked him with a grin. “Here.” You handed him a pen, and he sat down on the couch to sign the papers. Once his signature was put in about half a dozen places, he jumped right back up and grabbed you in another hug.

“You’re a real special kid,” Dean breathed. “And I’m honored to call you mine.”

“Right back at you…dad.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley

[castiwls]

never grow up - d.w

Pairing; Dean & sister!reader

Synopsis; Based on the song by Taylor swift

Warnings; None

Notes; This is kinda random but also ties in with my post a few days ago about being the middle child in the Winchester family :)

Masterlist

‘Your little hands wrapped around my finger. And it's so quiet in the world tonight

Dean didn’t understand what his parents had meant when they told him he would be a big brother. All he knew was that his mom had a baby in her stomach and in a few month’s the baby would come out. 

Now his mom smiled softly as she gently placed a small baby on his lap. He grinned at her from his spot on the hospital bed before looking down at the baby. “She’s so small.” He looked between his parents and his dad chuckled at his comment. “You were that small once bud.”

Dean looked at him with wide eyes. “I was?” He sounded almost astonished at his Dads comment as both his parents fell into quiet laughter. After a moment he felt something grip onto his small thumb and his attention was drawn back down to his sister.

Her little hand had wrapped around his thumb and she was now gazing up at him. “I think she likes you.” His mom whispered before pressing a kiss to his head. Dean grinned up at her for a moment before cuddling further into her chest. 

He still didn’t truly understand what his parents meant by being a big brother, but he knew that he would always protect her from this moment onwards.

‘I won't let anybody hurt you, won't let anyone break your heart. And no one will desert you. Just try to never grow up, never grow up'

“Dean. Are you awake?” Your brother let out a small groan before rolling over to face you. “Y/n it's three in the morning why are you awake?” He frowned at you before a look of concern took over his face. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he noticed the unleashed tears brimming your eyes and the way your hands shook slightly.

“I killed someone.” Your voice was barely a whisper as you spoke. Your hands seemed to shake harder as you gripped the thin sheets closer to your chest. “Someone dead cause of me.”

Dean shook his head sitting up and pulling you with him. “No. You didn’t kill someone ok. They were bitten and had fed y/n, it was only a matter of time before they turned.” He kept his voice low not wanting to wake Sam or your Dad who were both asleep across the room.

“Still. He hadn’t turned yet.” You sniffled leaning onto his chest. “Dad told me this job is about saving people Dean. How is that saving people.” Your brother didn’t say anything as he wrapped his arms around you tighter.

You were only 14, you shouldn’t have to deal with this. Hell, he never imagined that at 16 he would be spending his time cleaning guns and learning how to kill monsters. Dean understood why his Dad did what he did and he understood why he’d chosen now to start letting you on hunts but at the same time, it made him feel slightly sick.

The idea of his little sister doing this job left him with a bad feeling in his stomach (he didn't want to even think of Sam doing it) Dean swayed slightly as he tried to soothe you as best he could. “I know you don't think it now, but you did the right thing y/n. I promise.”

You nodded against his chest before pulling back and whipping at your eyes. “Come on. We need to be up in a few hours.” Your brother moved to lie down before opening his arms for you. You happily settled into his arms, feeling his hand run through your hair.

You both lay in silence for a while. The sound of his heartbeat slowly lulled you back to a dreamless sleep.

Dean closed his eyes sucking in a breath before relaxing. Life was so much easier when you were younger. If he had it his way you and Sam would never have to worry about the things that went bump in the night. He’d happily let you both live in peaceful ignorance as long as you were both safe and happy.

[lunajay33]

Guardian🩶

Summary: You’re Sam and Deans little sister and they always looked out for you, so when you feel like you disappoint your dad, they all remember how fragile you are

Pairing: Big brother Deah Winchester x little sister f!reader, big brother Sam x little sister reader, Father John x daughter reader

•Masterlist•

Growing up as the youngest in the family of hunters was rough but being a girl was even harder, you always tried your best to live up to your fathers expectations and be as strong as your brothers but in some way you felt like you always fell short

Now you were all older, Dean was 26, Sam was 22 and you were 19, Sam finally came back from College after his girlfriend died but now it was just the three of you on the road since John had left to go on his own hunting

Sitting in the back of the impala on the way to another case you were unusually quiet and the guys noticed

“You okay back there?” Dean asked looking at you from the rear view mirror

“We have bigger things to worry about” you mumble not wanting to add to the bigger case here

“Hey you’re out baby sister you matter more than some case, so what’s going on?” Sam asks as he turns in the front seat to look at you

“I…….i miss dad, i feel lost without him” you don’t mean to but the tears drip down your face something you rarely did which shocked them, seeing the panic on their faces you wiped your tears and balled up in the back seat

“He’s been gone months you’ve seemed fine” Dean states you knew they missed him too but your relationship with your father was different you are his little girl even if you didn’t always make him proud

“It’s nothing”

“Come on Angel”

“I just don’t wanna lose anyone else, I love you both more than you could know and I love our time together, but I want dad too”

“We’re here” Dean said pulling up to the motel, you all settled in tired from a long drive

“I’m gonna go see Meg I’ll bring food on the way back” Sam said after he hung up the phone probably talking to this Meg chick

Now it was just Dean and you sat across from each other on opposite beds

“Dean can I ask you something” you ask biting your lip anxiously, after your father left you felt the weight of disappointment crushing you

“What is it kid, you’re so glum today”

“Do you think…..do you think dads proud of me?” His eyes widened but you could see the hurt

“The hell are you talking about, he loves you, you’re probably his favourite”

“I think he left because of me, because of the way things happened on the last case with just me you and dad, I made a mistake and I disappointed him and he left, I didn’t mean to”

“Baby girl you did nothing wrong, he just had a case he needed to work on alone, said it was too dangerous for us to go” he said sitting next to you in the bed wrapping his around your shoulders

“Maybe I should leave, I always held you guys back anyways”

“Hey don’t talk like that you’re family you’re not going anywhere you hear me?” He grunts out

You sigh mentally and physically exhausted

“I think I’m gonna turn in early” you say crawling up the bed and pulling the covers up, you slept through the night not even waking up for dinner when Sam got back

The case went on and you all did some digging, you were looking through a book when you found that symbol again, it was used for ancient spirits that someone could use to their will, Sam had found Meg’s hide out and so you all drove down there

“Y/n you’re sitting this one out” Dean says as you all get out of the car that’s blocked a street away from Meg’s building

“What why I can help”

They loaded up on weapons like usual

“Because kid you’re not in your right mind right now, it ain’t your fault but I just want you to take it easy for this one, just stay in the car we will be back in no time” you wanted to fight Dean on this but the look he gave you shut you up, you didn’t wanna disappoint him too

“Okay just be safe”

You sat in the car waiting and waiting until you saw them in the rearview mirror running across the street running in the direction of our hide out, you got out running behind them but they were farther ahead than you, when you got to the hideout room you heard screaming, you bust into the room seeing shadows slashing at Dean Sam and……and John, you run infront of your father taking the harsh slashes from the spirits, you can feel you stomach being shredded, claws run down your face then you felt 4 long claws go straight through your back, gasping for air that you couldn’t inhale, you drop to the floor the pain unimaginable

Sam sets off a flare destroying the spirits, someone dragged you out into the hallway as you came back into focus seeing the three of them watching over you

“Daddy I’m sorry, I just…..*gasp* wanted to make you proud” then everything fades quickly leaving nothing but black

John, Dean and Sam brought you to the hospital, waiting for your diagnosing the nurses helped patch them up, they waited in your room sitting around your hospital bed praying you’d wake up

“How is she doc?” Dean asks as the doctor walks in to check your progress

“This was one angry bear, slashing is one thing but to stab its claws through her is strange behaviour” they boys looked at each other hoping the doctor believed the lie

“But we’ve done all we could, she lost a lot of blood we just have to wait for her to wake up, sometimes talking to patients who are unconscious helps bring them back, might wanna try it” he said before he left the room

Sam held you hand as he pushed back stray hairs that stuck to your face

“Please pull through, you’re the glue that holds us together, the person who brightens our hellish lives, we need you” he sighs resting his head against your intertwined hands, John and Dean had a war going on inside their heads, Sam always had a different relationship with you than Dean, Dean was crazy protective and still saw you like you were the baby he first held, Sam saw you like his twin, his confidant and the only one in the family who understood him, and those last words you said played over and over again in Johns head

They stayed there for hours just waiting for any sign that you’d wake up until eventually they all passed out from exhaustion, you woke up late in the night, the only thing that lit the room was a lamp on a near by table

You try to sit up but let out a little scream when you feel the wounds that littered your body, waking the others up, they stood by your bed , John at your right Sam next to him and Dean on your left

“Sweetheart you’re up, you’re one tough cookie” John says resting his hand against your cheek

“Are you guys okay?”

“We’re not the ones who are in the hospital bed Angel” Dean smiles squeezing your hand

“I just wanted to help, wanted to protect you daddy” when you called him that it struck right through his heart, remembering how you’re really just his little girl the one who’d stay up late into the night at the end of the motel beds waiting for him to come back, squealing when he’d walk through the door jumping into his arms

“I’m sorry baby girl, Dean told me what’s been going on and you have to know, even though I can be a hard ass sometimes I love you more than anything, I remember when your mother first had you and I held you in my arms I knew I’d do anything to make you happy and safe and I know your brothers felt the same, I’m sorry I left and made you feel like I was disappointed in you, you’re the strongest young lady I know, especially to have to deal with these two all day everyday, I love you sweetheart, my hope” by the time he was done you were a blubbering mess finally letting out all this pent up emotions

“I love you too, please don’t leave me, I need you dad”

“I’ll stay angel, I’ll stay”