#sammy come home or whatever he said

[femmefaggot]

kfam wasnt good but thinking about them nonetheless

[soldiersgirl]

TIDE AND TRIGGER.ᐟ

summary ⭑ a century long bet and a determined winchester; you want to be up where the people are and he only wants to be drowning in you. cw ⭑ mermaid!reader x season one dean winchester. 18+ smut (mdni). mentions of death. mentions of john winchester. mentions of kidnapping. fighting. swearing. inaccurate and accurate mermaid lore. light manipulation. kissing. fingering. oral (f receiving). begging. unprotected p in v (wrap it up). missionary, riding. kind of subby dean. slight dirty talk. sweet nicknames (baby, sweetheart, angel). word count ⭑ 5,617 words

"4 men found dead – washed ashore at beach" read the front page of the newspaper that rested on diner table as the brother's finally settled down and ate their first, proper meal in two days after relentless driving, phone calls and gas station hot dog's that didn't sit right with either of them. dean's meticulous eyes skimmed over the page, scouring it for details, anything that could hint at what they were dealing with as the younger winchester added his salad dressing, eyes darting around the unfamiliar diner that looked like every other diner they'd ever stepped foot into it. they all meld and mould together at some point; the cutlery stained, the lukewarm coffee and the somewhat-edible fried food. the brothers had been after each other, small digs and hidden insults between each hunt and stolen naps in the leather passenger seat of the impala. but this was finally different, finally they had found themselves in a warmer state; a sunny town filled with life rather than the usual desolate and gloom-filled states. a welcomed difference. but a warning of what was to come.

"any ideas?" sam hums as he digs his fork into his salad, pushing around the dressing to hide the disappointing mix of greens underneath.

"could be another drowner spirit, like that kid in wisconsin." dean hums in response as he bites into his burger with a sigh. the meat somehow soggy and dry at the same time. "could be a kelpie. siren?" he throws down his burger and raises his shoulders in defeat. "must be something in dad's journal." sam shakes his head.

"nothing that hints at what this could be." sam sighs as dean lifts the newspaper once again as his eyes scan the article, just one more time. signs of choking, blunt force trauma. followed by reports of singing heard late at night by the beach, some men wandering lost, schools of fish left half-eaten and discarded. dean curses as it all clicks. "what?" sam's head shoots up as he eyes the newspaper from across the table as dean pinches the bridge of his nose.

"i think i know. but if if i'm right, and that's a big if, then dad owes me five bucks... when we find him." he mumbles the last part before reaching for a limp fry and wiggling it about in front of sam, who shoves his hand down with an unimpressed grin.

"what could you possibly be betting with dad about?" sam grunts, pushing his bangs aside to reveal his puppy-dog eyes silently admiring his older brother, as he looked proud of himself.

"mermaids." dean leans back with a shit-eating smile and sending a wink towards his younger. sam lets out a laugh of disbelief.

"you and dad were betting on.. mermaids? i was at college and this is how you spent your time."

"no, no, lil' bro. you got it all wrong." dean leans back forward and hunches over his half-eaten burger, setting the scene. "it was just after the little mermaid came out, right? and i asked dad why we had never found one, why it was only those crazy-ass sirens. the old man said they were extinct. gone." dean jabs his finger down onto the front page of the crumpled paper. "until now. the singing, the choking? classic mermaid lore, sammy. it's what the pirates wrote home about."

"i just thought being out on the ocean made them crazy. didn't they confuse sea-cows for women?"

"desperate times call for desperate measures, but whatever. sammy. this is the real deal and we're gonna catch her and prove it. no sense killing her, we're gonna be revered! finding an extinct species." dean runs his worn hands over his face before slamming down an assortment of dollars on the diner table and grabbing his trusty leather jacket.

"wha-?" sam immediately gets cut off by dean grabbing him by the hood of his hoodie and dragging his lanky brother out behind him as he heads for the impala and sets course for their motel. it was time for prince dean to find his very own little mermaid.

for the next 3 nights, sam and dean would lounge around the beach during the evenings watching as families grilled, teenagers played volleyball and couples walked along the shore, giggling into one another's shoulders and holding hands. as the numbers dwindled and people made their way home to rest was when the real work began for the two brothers. as the moon hung low, the tide came in and the stars played in the vast, navy sky, the brothers sat and intently listened. each splash of water examined, each washed ashore fish bagged for evidence, with a grimace, whilst trying to keep each other awake with ridiculous games and keeping unsuspecting young men off the beach, for their own safety.

"i swear to god, dean, if you chose 'c' again for i spy, you're getting drowned." sam would complain as dean only sniggered and gave the same reply.

"get it? c, sea?" he would point out, lie back in the warm sand and laugh out loud before sam reminded him to be quiet, reprimanding dean for maybe scaring away the mermaid.

on the fourth night, they were getting desperate. dean's freckles had sprouted and multiplied across his rosy cheeks as sam's hair had gone a tone or two lighter while basking in the sun, enjoying the mundanity of the moment. an earned vacation among the chaos. dean fiddles with his necklace as he gazes out, thinking this was something he could get used to, the serenity of the night enveloping him and brushing away all his worries, like the sand that flies across his outstretched legs.

SPLASH!

dean whips his head, his trained eyes scanning the surface for a hint of something, anything. he goes to turn to sammy and sees his younger brother passed out on his worn-out brown hoodie. his bangs swept across his forehead, his hands resting on his chest and his mouth in a slight pout as light snores rumble in his chest.

SPLASH!

another. dean tears his eyes away and stares out again. it was coming closer, almost beckoning him. this felt different. the air grew colder and everything grew quieter as dean's senses heightened as small splashes rang out across the shore line. dean was too slow to catch the culprit each time and his anxiety grew with each. he decides against his better judgement and leaves sammy as he shoots up, grabs his leather jacket that he was sitting on and his hunter's bag before trudging across the beach. until he hears it. the indisputable sound of a woman's voice singing. her soft tones and gentle notes are carried in by the waves as they lap against dean's feet, like wanting fingers trailing against her lover's skin. dean's instinct cloud over for a second, he should walk into the ocean. he should get deeper. find her.

"no.. no!" he whispers to himself before digging around in his jeans pocket and pulling out his earplugs and shoving them into his ears. just like he suspected, her voice calls men to the ocean, like a moth to light and they have no choice but to follow. but dean was smarter and prepared. as he travels along the beach, he spots a cove in the distance and a smile spreads across his tanned face. "i got ya now.." he mutters as he hikes up his bag and heads straight for, what he suspected, was the mermaid's lair.

each droplet echoed throughout the desolate cove. the walls damp and the floor covered in trodden barnacles and washed-up seaweed. each of dean's steps had to be calculated as any could lead to a fatal mistake and he wasn't about to let anything get in his way. your humming and soft tones bounced off the walls, flowing over dean and greeting him like a long-lost over as he pants and gasps, desperate to prove himself right and his father wrong. he had lost all sense of direction and time as he continues climbing further and further into your grasp, your voice becoming his only compass.

dean falters, dropping his bag and leather jacket from his grasp, as he finally reaches an opening, wherein a glittering, untouched inlet lapped at the edges. dean scrambles forward, his jeans scraping against the rock floor as he dives his hand into the cold tide pool and moans with relief as the cold water touches his lips. he rests his heated cheeks against the edge before splashing some water on his face and securing his ear plugs further. disorientation was your play; it was how you got even the strongest of men at their weakest, scared, desperate.

"you're not like the others." dean's emerald eyes fly open and he throws himself back away from the edge, away from you. you treaded the water gracefully as you intently watched him, the tide caressing your soft skin. your hair was slicked back revealing each intricate detail of your face in the dimly-lit cove. beads of ocean running down your cheeks bones and gliding over the soft pillows of your lips. how could something so beautiful, be so deadly? dean shook his head as he laid frozen, his breathing quick and shallow.

"the others?" his deep voice a contrast to the delicate setting.

"you know which ones." you say nonchalantly with a small shrug of your shoulders, as if you hadn't killed them. you swim forward and fold your arms over one another as you rest your chin on top, a small smile playing on your lips. "pathetic and entitled. stupid." you laugh, running your tongue over your sharp canines. teeth made to tear men to shreds. dean finally sits himself up and tries to shake his fears of him. he came here for a reason and he wasn't going to leave empty-handed.

"entitled?" dean asks, eager to learn from their mistakes.

"they thought they deserved me, as if i was something to own. so i showed them the truth." you cock your head as if the answer is obvious but dean only lifts his brows in confusion which got a sigh from you. "the ocean can't be owned or tamed, neither can a woman."

"you're not a woman." dean says pointedly, receiving a sneer from you. "you're a mermaid. you're meant to be extinct, haven't been found in hundreds of years." dean regurgitates what his father told him all those years ago.

"that's what we wanted you to think."

"who?"

"men, hunters, sailers. anyone who wanted to harm us. we dove to uncharted depths, but after a while, you get that craving. that yearning." you sigh as you trace your finger over the shell-speckled edge. "are you here to hurt me?" your eyes meet his, challenging him.

"no." truth.

"are here to capture me?"

"no." lie.

"then why are you here? you seem to know a lot about mermaids." you furrow your brows in suspicion as you lift and point your finger to his ear. "i can spot the plugs from here. smart." you pull yourself more out of the pool and lean yourself over more across the cold, cove bed. seaweed tangled around your chest and stretched out over your shoulders, as opposed to the sea-shells that dean was expecting, whilst your kept your shimmering tail submerged still, playing with the waves.

"my dad... was a hunter. told me all about you. said i'd never see one like you, that i was stupid to think i would." dean admits, his heart clenching at the thought of his dad's harsh words. he was only a child.

"you smell like a hunter." you state, propping your chin on your palm. "is that why you've been sitting on the beach all those nights, just... waiting for me?" you tug your soaked hair behind your ear with a small giggle. one fact that john had also mentioned was that mermaid's were gullible, too gullible for their own good.

"yes, yes. of course! anything to see you." he eagerly nodded, playing to your weaknesses. "i just had to see you."

"wow..." you feel your cheeks heat up as you throw yourself backwards into the water, did a small back flip under water and spraying water all over a surprised dean. with you distracted, he took the opportunity to grab his bag closer to him, getting a grip on the fisherman's net he had stashed in it as you return to your original position with a wide smile plastered across your face. "you're the sweetest man i've ever met. and i've been around for a long time." you reach out your webbed hands to dean as he notices the small, iridescent scales running down your arms to your fingertips. he reaches out with a sweet smile and when you expect to feel the shake of his hand, you feel a harsh tug as you're pulled out of the water and enveloped in a tangled mess. you thrash your tail, try to scratch with your clawed nails and let out a shrill call, but to no avail. as you struggle against the net, a tear rolling down your cheek in disbelief, dean watches. frozen. he had done the impossible.

"let me go!" you call out, grabbing onto the net to shake it but yelping out in pain as the net burns your hands. you hiss and pull them back, eyes darting between the on-edge dean and the knotty tangle of rope.

"don't move too much." his voice stern, but he catches himself and softens his tone. "silver has been woven into the threads, it'll hurt if you move too much." dean whispers, your short sobs echoing off the salt-kissed stone. you pull your tail up to your chest and curl it around yourself like the comforting hold of a mother as you shiver, from the cold and fear.

"p-please. don't kill me. i'll go. i'll go anywhere else, i'll go back to the depths. whatever you want." you beg, your brows upturned. dean can't even look at you, knowing one look in your hopeful eyes would mean letting you go.

"i'm not going to kill you, i swear." he rustles around in his bag and pulls out the familiar leather bound journal of john winchester, flicks through a few pages and clicks the pen that came along with it. "we want to study you, show other hunters that you're back from extinction." dean hums as his eyes dart over your body, noting down the details he had noticed and the information that needed to be updated.

"if– if i help you, will you let me go? go back to my sisters?" you wipe your nose. "they'll get worried if i'm gone for too long, come searching for me."

"yes." dean lies, against his better judgement. he'd rather keep you calm and talkative, than panicked and silent. as expected, you fall for it, his tone assuring and confident and you nod as your breathing slows. dean had to wait for you to fall asleep to be able to get you out of the cove with the help of his brother, but for now, you both sat in a tense silence that was interrupted by dean's occasional questions. all the way throughout, you were honest but your eyes never left his face. you enjoyed his human tendencies. the scrunching of his small nose as he wrote, nibbling on his bottom lip and end of the pen as he continued to avoid your gaze.

as the last sea-water droplets roll of your skin and your hair slowly dries, you feel a shiver run deep, down your spin as you start to gasp for air. your webbed hands fly up to your throat as your scratch at your chest, panicked. dean throws john's journal to the side, leaping forward, holding his hands out in confusion.

"wh–what do i do? what's...?" is all dean can mutter as he watches the scene unfold it front of him. your tail unfurls and falls in front of you, the seaweed that clung to your chest falls into your lap, your scales shivering and peeling off. you watch in horror as your majestic, opalescent tail transform into water and revealing legs underneath as it cascades down and into the cove pool. as the ordeal washes over, you sigh and silently curse yourself, bringing your new-found knees to your chest and covering yourself from dean's look of disbelief and shock. "what?!" he half-yells, not understanding your calm demeanour.

"i forgot this happened, honestly." you stare in awe at your human form, wiggling your toes and fingers in sync and enjoying the feeling of your rounded teeth against your tongue. "i... i haven't been out of the water in a few centuries. yeah, when the sea-water dries, we return to our original form. how we looked before we drowned by angry sailors and were saved by sea foam. for men, the sea is terrifying and unruly. but for us, scorned women, it's a sanctuary."

"that's how mermaids are created?" dean has forgotten all about the damn journal and let's himself be taken your words.

"that's how some are created. not everyone has the same story. all we know is that the ocean, she saved us. made us." you nod with a small smile. "i... i have to be back in the water within the hour or i turn to sea-foam... just so you know." it was dean's turn to nod with a smile of defeat. there goes his plan. a silence covers you both like a blanket but a small cough from you pulls dean out of his thoughts as he tries to come up with a new plan, but fails to do so. "can i at least take the net off? i'll... i'll answer more of your questions, i won't try to leave. i swear."

"oh, yeah. let me just..." dean shuffles forward as you lift up your arms, freeing you from the net but catching a glimpse of your chest in the process. he holds his breath as he keeps his gaze skyward, blindly grabbing at twisted threads and throwing them to the side. he reaches behind him and pulls forward his oversized leather jacket to you. you giggle as you reach forward, your fingers gliding over his before pulling it on and wrapping it around you. dean gazes at you out of the corner of his eye and sighs with relief at your covered form as he stretches and rubs the back of his neck. he pulls out his earplugs, fearing you less now that you had become human right in front of him.

"you're quite the gentleman, aren't you? looks like your father taught you well." you comment, your eyes filled with admiration. despite your human form, your mermaid traits still shone through.

"my father taught me no such thing." dean bites, his head whipping to the journal and tucking it back into his bag. you rest your chin on your knee and immediately realise that you hit a nerve.

"but he did give you a name. you still haven't told me yours." you point out, as you fiddle with your fingers.

"dean." he coughs, turning back around and facing you again. his shoulders relaxing and his gaze softening. "dean winchester." you hum and smile at him, sharing your name in return.

"dean. well, dean. if you're not going to ask me any more questions, how will we fill the time?" a suggestive smile plays on your soft lips. "i can't remember the last time i felt the loving touch of a man." you cock your head as dean's mouth gapes, taken aback by your honesty. you lean forward on all fours with dean's jacket hanging off your naked body and crawl forward. you mirror his position and kneel in front of him, your knees touching, the jacket sliding off your shoulder and your chest barely concealed. you reach out, grab dean's hand and lift it up until it rests against your breast, his hand instinctively cupping it in his large palm. eyes locked on one another's like the tension might snap if either of you blinked. his thumb runs over your nipple and a gasp escapes you as he slowly circles it and rubs it between his two digits. "dean, please." you mutter breathlessly as you lean in and brush your nose against his, your lips hovering over and grazing his. a small tug on your nipple and a unison of hisses before he carefully presses his lips to yours. you tentatively kiss, tongues slowly gliding against each others as his other hand reaches up and palms your other breast with the same level of care as before.

"can i...?" dean whispers against your lips, his hands reaching up and grabbing the edges of his jacket and as you nod, he slowly slides it off your shoulders and it falls with a heavy thud. you reach out and tug on his t-shirt with a smirk and dean quickly gets the hint by yanking it over his head and chucking it to the side. you both raise up onto your knees and let your hands and his explore each others bodies. groping, gliding, grabbing accompanied by soft kisses and high-pitched whines. your arms settle around his neck as he holds you by your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. chest to chest. heart to heart. his fingers digging into your supple skin as your nails drag across his scalp, tugging on his short locks and nipping at his lips as he hisses. your lips travel down his neck, licking and leaving open-mouthed kisses against his pulse-point. "oh fuck..." his groans echo throughout the cove as you melted into his touch as he holds you tight against him, like two lovers reunited. nails scratching against his back and teeth grazing the tender skin of his neck as he mewls under you. the sweetest sounds you've ever heard.

"please, touch me. i need it so bad." you mutter against his shoulder before lightly biting down, just enough to leave indents speckled across his broad muscles. you drag your lips across his skin and back up to his lips which eagerly meet yours in a frenzied kiss. "please, dean." you whisper into the kiss and dean only replies with a short laugh before letting his grip fall from your waist and find his way between your legs. his fingers caress your inner thighs as you flinch and twitch. the light brush of his fingers a welcomed change from the harsh pulls and tugs of the ocean, restlessly beating against your skin. they continue to run and brush over where you need him most, where your wetness is pooling and slowly dripping down onto dean's soft fingertips. he smiles into the kiss and lets out a satisfied moan as he meets your juices and finally lets his fingers dive into you. they slip between your folds and move up to meet your clit, where he rubs your arousal all over it. your legs falter and your breath stutters at the foreign sensation as your moans rumble in your chest.

"like that, sweetheart?" he mumbles and all you can do is nod as he increases the pressure, circling your engorged bud before going back into your folds and teasing your opening. you latch onto him for support and throw your head back as your hip stutters before slowly rocking in sync with his rough fingers playing with your clit. "god, you're soaked, angel." he sighs as he admires you, the way your body reacts to him. he quickly pulls away and you groan in defiance before you hear him shuffling around before slowly guiding you to lay down. instead of the damp, cold stone against your bare back, you're met with the soft satin of the inside of dean's leather jacket. dean goes on all fours in between your thighs and continues torturing and teasing you with fleeting touches and featherlight kisses starting from your knee, past your thigh and up to your abdomen.

"deeeaan..." you whine as you writhe and grab onto the jacket, your desperation for dean becoming overwhelming. just as you open your mouth to complain, dean complies with a wicked smile and watches your face in awe as his fingers finally indulge you and pushes past your folds. his middle finger, with an aching slowness, drags itself in and out of your entrance, taking his time with you before adding another. his thick fingers gradually work you open and you groan as you stretch around his digits. a harsh suck and a kitten lick to your clit forces you to lift your head and meet a smirking dean. you settle back, leaning on your elbows as dean puts on a show for you. moaning and humming with content as he buries his tongue into your folds and bumps your clit with his shaped nose as his fingers continue their torture on your spongy walls. pleasure that you had sought out for years was finally years and you couldn't help but roll your eyes into the back of your head and let him feast on you like a starved man.

"mmmhm, nghhhn– mmm..." dean's moans were obscene and only added to your pleasure. you feel him stop and you lift your head to protest, but his glistening chin and slick lips stop you in your tracks. you hadn't seen something as breath-taking as him in aeons with his messy hair, hooded emerald eyes and a knowing smile. he leans back down and trails kisses from the top of your mound to the valley of your tits, before capturing your neglected nipples in between his glossy lips. your legs spread further apart as his pace quickens, his fingers massaging your g-spot with precision. you gaze down at him and the desperation on your face is clear as you slowly rock your body and meet his fingers in a frantic rhythm. "gonna cum, baby?" he hums, his lips still latched around your nipple, before switching to the other. a whimpered "mhm" slips past your lips as the pleasure builds, like a firework rearing to explode. a mess of garbled moans and whimpers escape you as you cum all over dean's fingers, unashamedly groaning dean's name as he admired the sight of you falling apart in his hands. he pulls out his two fingers and pulls back to marvel at them, your arousal covering and dripping down his hand. your chest heaves and heart almost stops as with a wide smirk and eyes centered on you, he presses them to his flattened tongue and sucks them dry with a barely-controlled moan. "delicious." he mutters and before he can say another word, you lean forward and try to undo his trousers with shaking hands.

"i want to touch you, feel you. please." you whine, but dean only pats your flushed cheeks and carefully tucks your hair behind your ear.

"every second i am not inside you, is a second wasted." you're pushed back down and in a matter of seconds, dean is stripped naked and in between the comfort of your thighs, hoisting your legs up to rest comfortably around his waist as he pumps himself once, then twice. he drags his cock through your folds a few times, stopping at your pulsing entrance before teasing again. he pauses and holds your gaze before pushing himself into you and the newfound sensation has you gasping underneath him. "so fucking tight, my god." he falls forward, encircling you tightly in his arms and nestling his head into the crook of your neck as he slowly rocks his hips. your nails rake down his back and your pleas for "faster, harder" are obeyed by him. he drives himself into you, pushing your thighs further apart to go deeper, to fully bury himself. your limbs clung around him like seaweed tangled in the current.

"oh my god, dean...!" you harshly whisper into his ear before tugging on his lobe with your teeth, pulling a hiss from him as his momentum wavered before pulling himself back, lifting your right leg as the other stay curled around his waist and hammering into you. all you could think about was dean. dean, dean, dean. his quiet gasps becoming raw, echoing groans as your pussy clenches around his length, nearing another climax. the pleasure trickled down your spine like an escaped bead of water before pooling in your core and you let yourself be drowned in the pleasure. as the pleasure crescendoes and peaks, dean grabs onto your hips whilst tipping back and making you straddle him. you immediately take over and ride dean's thick cock whilst his hands on your body like an octopus; everywhere, all at once, impossibly urgent. one rests on your hip and the other finds it's way to your clit, rubbing messy circles against it. you bounce, thrust, grind as your hands rest on his solid chest. he thrusted his hips up to meet yours, his balls slapping up against the base of your ass.

"gonna c-cum, baby." he gasps and your pussy involuntarily flutters around his cock as both hands are now guiding your hips. "gonna cum so fucking hard." he pants, struggling to keep his breath under control. you clench your jaw and bite down on your lip as your hips grow tired, your pace hitting its final peak as dean finally releases himself inside of you. with his final finishing thrusts, you gush around him for the third time and then collapse onto his chest in exhaustion. you lay together in silence for a minute or two, before peeling yourself off of him and wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of your hand. you climb off him and settle back with your knees to your chest and pulling the leather jacket over you as dean slowly gets dressed, eyes drifting over to you and quickly darting away again.

"will i ever see you again?" you ask with hesitation, already knowing the answer. dean lets out a short laugh before kneeling down in front of you and placing a soft kiss against your dry lips.

"i hope so. i want to." foreheads resting against each others. "but i'm not sure how we can." a low sigh and saddened eyes.

"me neither." your heart clenches. "but i won't ever forget you, dean." your hand finds his and gives it a soft squeeze.

"yeah?" he raises a brow and you assure him with a nod. "i want to make sure of that." he leans away for a second, pulls off his amulet and places it down around your head. a smile that reached his eyes grew as he peered down at the small golden trinket. "but i'm gonna be needing this back." he peels the jacket off you, hooks his finger into it and places one last kiss against your forehead as he rests on it his shoulder.

"be careful, my trigger man." you whisper as he grabs the forgotten journal and stuffs it into his bag. a breathy laugh followed by a longing gaze.

"i'll see you around. don't go causing more trouble." he warns with a wink as he watches you wave and slowly immerse yourself back into the cove pool. with the blow of a kiss to dean, you fully submerge yourself and feel yourself return to your former self. the cove grew silent once again, except for the drip of droplets and a heavy sigh from the older winchester.

"where the hell have you been? i've been looking for you for like," sam peers down at his watch." half an hour!" sam complains as dean comes sauntering back with his bag slung over his shoulder and jacket dragging in the sand.

"don't get your panties inna twist. can't a guy just go for a walk? admire the sunrise?" dean points out at the ocean and the orange glow that was cascading down onto the beach, bathing the brother's in a growing heat. sam scratches his head.

"since when have you ever watched a sunrise?" he sneers, before sighing as dean sits down next to him and pushing sand onto him.

"often. mind your business." dean retorts before fixing his gaze over the horizon.

"hmph." sam furrows his brows at dean before joining him at gazing out over the tide that slowly rolled in. "did i miss anything?"

"no." dean answers almost too quickly. "it's been silent all night." sam groans and runs his hands through his shaggy hair.

"that means one more night sitting on this fucking beach."

"no, i... i think it was just accidents, sammy. dad was right, mermaids are extinct, don't exist." dean pulls out his mobile and waves it in sam's face. "plus, bobby texted me with a new case. something we can actually hunt." dean's tone convincing, convicted. sam almost didn't dare question it, so he just nodded and started to gather his things. as the brother's walked away, sam peered down at his shorter brother and cocked his head.

"where'd your amulet go?"

"must've lost it when i went swimming." dean's lack of panic and cool composure shocked sam more than anything had in a while; that amulet meant everything to dean. sam just nodded and continued to march on towards the impala. dean hung back a little, gazing one last time over the ocean and seeing the tip of a familiar tail travelling to the unexplored depths alongside the torn pages from his dad's journal. you were his secret to keep.

a/n: my dean debut!! ahhh!! i had so much fun writing this and really let my imagination flow. fun fact: when i was a child, i always wanted to be a mermaid so this was fulfilling for me, hehe LIKES, FEEDBACK & REBLOGS are appreciated, support your creators. ⭑ millie's masterlist ⭑ -`♡´- tag list: @0ccvltism @adoredawn @angelically-yours @barnes70stark @bittersweetfig @bejeweledinterludes @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @briiverse @cowboysandcigarettes @daylighted @deansbeer @deanspookiebear @diawinchester217 @emeraldcrs @faiszt @frank3nfag @h8aaz @honeyyxxbee @insensiblelimerence @jasvtsc @k-slla @kamisobsessed @lanasgirlfr @legalmente-loca @littlesoulshine @lunaleah @mads-ackles @maneaterarabella @marvelgeeka @missus-ackles @mostlymarvelgirl @nperoconelcositoarriba @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @samslovebug @sl33pylilbunny @soldierboysdoll @sugardean @sunnyteume @sunsettsam @supernaturaldoll @tinas111 @titsout4jackles @vmiina (comment or inbox me to be added/taken off)

[ultravi0lence14]

HIGH TIDE

DEAN WINCHESTER X MERMAID!READER

WARNINGS: hurt/comfort, reader being a baddie

SUMMARY: back at the bunker, sam and dean learn that their fishy friend is more well versed than they assumed.

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

the sound of a whirling air conditioner and freezing cold air was the first thing you felt when you woke up. you were more than groggy; more or less feeling like you’d been hit by a bus none the less.

everything was a blur. you remembered saving that kid, watching as that man stared at you from his place in the ocean, but you couldn’t pin point what happened afterward. it was all blurs of pain, anguish, and a weird comfort followed by the feeling of smooth leather under your skin.

your eyes had yet to peel open, the throws of darkness keeping you company as you laid limp on a cold surface. as your senses started to come back, you could faintly hear voices arguing; two, to be exact.

“what are we going to do with her?” voice number one asked, voice lilted in that of slight anger. “we’ve never dealt with a problem like this before.”

“i don’t know, dean,” voice number two said, addressing voice number one as dean. “i’ve been researching the best i can, and nothing is coming up about mermaids losing their ‘magic’ or whatever you want to call it.”

dean, what a beautiful name — wait. losing magic?

at the exact time when the second voices words registered in your head, you felt yourself try and flap your tail. all that resulted was you smacking your leg against the table and searing pain to shoot up your body.

“ow.” you groaned, peeling your eyes open and then throwing your arm over them when the bright lights blinded you. you were so confused. yet slowly, everything was coming back to you in pieces.

the pain in your tail. the sea urchin attacking you. the words these two strangers were spewing. your magic had been ripped away from you, making you a mermaid no longer.

everything you’ve ever known had been ripped away from you. the liberation of the sea, your fishy friends. you didn’t have a family, not remembering ever having one, but the feeling of being torn away from your only home made salty tears leak from your eyes.

somehow, the salt from your sadness brought a semblance of comfort. a reminder of home.

“oh jesus. is she crying?” the voice that you recognized as dean had tore through your reins of sadness and made you slowly peel your arm away from your face. “sam, what the fuck do we do with a crying mermaid?”

not being able to lie to yourself, you couldn’t help but admire the attractive man standing above you. with wild green eyes, and golden skin like that of a sun god, you couldn’t help but stare at his stubbly jaw and attractive features as who you assumed to be sam also leaned over you.

his hair haloed around his face, and you wondered if these two were related from the similarities they bore.

“why are you crying?” sam asked, shifting an arm around your back as you tried to rise on your elbows into a sitting position.

“we’re not going to hurt you, i swear.” sam’s words did nothing to calm your racing heart, and you couldn’t help but glower at the man has he helped you sit at the edge of a wooden table.

“i’m crying because i just got my home and birthright ripped away from me jackass, not because i think you’re going to hurt me.” your words had sam’s eyebrows shooting up, and a snort leaving dean’s lips.

“i like her, sammy, she’s got spunk.” dean smirked over at you, and you couldn’t help but turn your cold glare onto him. pointing a finger at you, dean gave an incredulous look in your direction as he spoke with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “don’t go all ursula on me, princess, i’m the one who saved you from being six feet under.”

a small shred of gratitude shone through your chest at his statement. for if it wasn’t for him, you’d be dead.

though you couldn’t help but narrow your eyes at him, jutting your chin in sam’s direction as you spoke to his companion. “thanks, i guess. but could you tell your friend over there to stop asking stupid questions like a total seaweed brain? i’m trying to grasp onto everything that just happened.”

with his hands in the air, sam took a step back from you and watched nervously as you kicked your feet back and forth, an expression of interest on your face. the flannel around your shoulders and the pair of boxer shorts on your hips had you staring in confusion, yet you decided not to dwell on one of these two changing you and focus on your new found legs.

you always had a tail, never becoming accustomed to legs in general. this was all new to you, and you realized then that you would need these two dopes help if you wanted to make it in the real world.

sighing, you scrubbed a hand down your face before turning to both of the men in front of you. “so sam and dean. . .”

“winchester,” sam replied, crossing his arms over his chest when he assumed you didn’t want to throttle him anymore. “we’re brothers.”

“thought so,” you shrugged, grimacing at the ugliness of the brown coloured shirt on your shoulders. “anyway, i’m very grateful that you two saved me, yet i can’t help but assume i’m not going to be turning back into a mermaid anytime soon. correct?”

sam sheepishly nodded, and dean couldn’t help but marvel at the pair of balls this assumedly innocent mermaid had on her.

“so, i thought maybe you two could help me.” your words left no room for questions, and dean couldn’t help but quirk a brow at your somewhat ridiculous statement.”

“help you?” he inquired, scratching at the stubble on his jaw as he stared at you with a smirk on his face. “i saved you from becoming sea food, isn’t that good enough?”

shrugging, you started combing your fingers through your hair. “in my books, no.” dean’s eyebrows shot up, and you held out a finger to him when he opened his mouth to speak. “i just need a bit of help getting on my feet; literally.” dean smirked at your joke, and you found it fair enough to continue.

“we could work together. maybe find something that could turn me back into a mermaid, maybe not. either way, help me become human for the time being, and i’ll try not to be annoying. deal?”

you spoke to the two brothers like you were making a gang negotiation, and both sam and dean wondered where you got this type of personality from living under the water all your life.

“i know what you’re thinking, and to answer your question, i am a very perceptive person. i see how you humans act and i create my own personality.” nudging sam’s knee with your foot, you grinned at the two men. “how am i doing so far?”

dean smirked at you, eyes racking up and down your frame as he watched you try and get down from the library table. “you’ve got yourself a deal, princess.” arm shooting out as you stumbled on your new found feet, dean steadied you into his chest so you wouldn’t completely fall on your ass. “first thing: try not to fall and break your neck before we could start though.”

“shut up.” you groaned, hands clutching dean’s shoulders as you stared into his sea foam eyes. “now, the first thing i want to deal with is this hideous thing you call clothes.”

“hey!” sam protested, speaking up for the first time in a couple of minutes. “that’s mine!”

“yeah, and it’s ugly.” you shot back, making dean snort and sam to drop his mouth like a gaping fish. “you guys got any dresses? i always saw the pretty girls on the beach wearing them.”

dean made eye contact with sam, silently giving each other an ‘oh dear lord’ look as dean slung his arm over your shoulder and helped you sit down in one of the library chairs.

‘yeah,’ dean thought, rubbing his brow slowly. ‘this is going to be a handful.’

TAGS: @starzify @whisperingdaze @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @bluemerakis @gibson-g1rl @deanangel @sunsbaby @haunteres @honeyryewhiskey @florchids @figthoughts @misatxox @a-lil-pr1ncess @flow33didontsmoke @ilovedeanwinchester4 @whump-loverz @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @djudy99 @ryngzmn

NAT BABBLES: i wanted to make our girl whimsical but also a total princess and slight pain in the ass to both sam and dean (mostly dean)

[cloverina]

pen stealer !

afab, fansign, mentions of boobs and ass!

a/n hiiii!! i based this off of a c.ai bot, not sure if they have a tumblr account.

“Hey, can i have a pen?” the girl whispered to Sam, tapping his shoulder from the desk behind him.

He scowls, and mumbled “No.” He didn’t look at her at all, keeping his eyes glued to the work page infront of him.

“Why not?”

Sam finally turns his head around to look at her, glaring at her.

“I let you borrow five pens, none of them have been returned.”

The girl groans in annoyance.

“Please..?”

Sam glared hard. He’s had a sour mood all day.

“No.” He said, bluntly. “I know damn well for a fact you aren’t going to give me it back.”

She groaned, now also in a sour mood. He rolled his eyes and reluctantly handed her the damn stupid pen. His favourite stupid pen might i add.

The girl smiled. “Thank you! You’re the best, Sammy!!” She whispers, so she doesn’t get caught by the teacher. She wasn’t in the mood for a detention.

He mumbled a quick “whatever.” and went back to focusing on his work page. He finished his work, and his gaze shifted to her. He caught her playing with his pen; tapping it against her chin and playing with it between her fingers. He scoffed in annoyance.

“Hey! stop playing with it.”

The girl simply scowled back and stopped playing with it… for a short while. She went back to playing with the pen, not caring or knowing it was his favourite.

Sam rolled his eyes in disbelief. “I’m serious. Don’t.” He states firmly, giving her a slight warning. “You’ll break it. And you don’t want to find out what’ll happen. So i suggest you listen to me.”

The girl simply ignored him, deciding to push his buttons. “I’ll break it, infront of you. You’ll do nothing, stop pretending.” She said, clearly not believing a word that’s coming out of his mouth.

“I’m dead serious.” He replied, a little hostile now. He was glaring at her. He finally decided to turn back around, when he heard it. snap. Did he just hear the pen break? He quickly whipped his head around, staring at his broken pen. His favourite goddamn pen.

I mean, he did warn her. It was now afterschool, and he forced her to come home with him. She was in his bedroom, being held down on his bed, she was scowling and pouting. “Stop, it was just a joke” She said, trying to defend herself. Sam shook his head in annoyance. “I warned you” He said, pissed off. He was writing his full name all over her body parts. He wrote his name on her: arms, thighs, stomach, neck, collarbones and her tits.

“I warned you. Turn around, gotta sign your ass.”

[okaysonny]

strange encounters in suwon ¦ samuel seo

★ summary: a food stall in the derelict area of suwon brings interesting customers.

★ details: angsty + lore heavy, takes place in 407 (first gen king arc), f! reader, sammy thinks about family, big deal + hostel mentioned, very 'in his thoughts'.

★ wc: 1.6k

★ A/N: hohoho...so i did the thing. first time posting a fic ever :') tried my very best! divider credits.

"here's your grilled eel" "thank you"

so. how was his week? shit, to be frank. belittled in front of his boss, grabbed by the chin, blasted by fire extinguishers, and having to play chauffeur. for eli jang of all people.

hostel's head. the only thing he produced in three years was crap haircuts. yet eugene put him in charge of the fifth affiliate. everything samuel clawed his way up for was given to eli in a day. and why? just because of the past?

it struck a nerve. he struck a nerve. so badly that they almost fought naked in a public bath. he'd never admit the whole situation was slightly embarrassing.

…

"dad...are those guys scary people?" "i-it's okay! dad will protect you!"

family, huh? it's what eli and warren were doing this for. but to him, the concept was almost foreign. even more foreign than learning japanese. and jesus christ, that was a pain in the ass.

whatever. he brought the shot glass to his lips. if he was stuck babysitting dom torretto and friends, he should enjoy the break from it while he could. that is until a hand prevented him.

"stop! you look like you're still a minor. you shouldn't be drinking!"

the fuck? he looked up. a girl. the one who served him grilled eel. they looked the same age, but she obviously didn't think so.

"where are you from? did you run away from home? your family must be worried sick!"

that word again. he took a chug absentmindedly. "i'm not a minor"

"oh my god! what are you doing?!" she pinched her nose in frustration. as if he was in the wrong here.

"look…can you just put the bottle away, please?" her voice was brought to a whisper. "i don't want to give my aunt over there a hard time"

he glanced to the front, where an older woman was washing pans. her forehead was sleek with sweat. anyway, what was the point in whispering when she just yelled earlier?

"how would i be giving her a hard time if i'm not a minor?"

"that's bullshit! you're definitely a minor. you're not fooling me!"

his felt his jaw clench as he plastered the usual corporate smile. can't even relax in some measly food stall, for crying out loud. he wordlessly took out his wallet and fished for his driver's license. "happy now?"

complete silence as she read the date of birth. a pink bloom suddenly touched her cheeks. "same age…? i'm sorry about that. you just really looked like a minor, tattoo guy!"

oh. that caused the smile to drop. "…tattoo guy? you should be treating customers with more manners than that"

she furrowed her brows in confusion, as if what he said was unfathomable. "…customers?! we barely get any nowadays! you must be a tourist! everyone avoids food stalls like this because of a staffing agency. they chase the owners out to redevelop the area. no one wants to be part of a thug fight, so they keep away"

she smiled, but there was no sincerity behind it. samuel was familiar with the sort.

"they always pester my auntie to move, y'know? it's a miracle this place is still up. i keep telling her to find a spot outside suwon, but she won't budge! 'suwon belongs to the people' she says. so…i have to look after her. who knows when they'll come back again?"

cool story. one he was familiar with. he just wanted a drink, to be honest. before he could express so, she continued. "…what about you? do you have someone you look out for?"

…no? the answer was no. obviously. "does it matter?"

an evil grin formed on her, almost cartoonish. "you basically just answered my question! so, you don't?"

she gazed back to the front, to the woman who was now wiping down the cutlery. her eyes crinkled at the corners before turning back to him.

"hang around my auntie for a day - she'll change your mind!"

…why does this girl sound like a hallmark movie? sentimental people like this are easy to exploit. it's why eli and warren were workers now. it's why sinu spent so long in their captivity. it's why jake's dumbass got arrested.

fine, he'll humour her. the stall was getting destroyed soon anyway. "…not everyone is fortunate enough to have those people"

her lips pursed. he got her there.

well. he thought so until she spoke again.

"…who said anything about fortune?! hmm…" she looked at him, as if for the first time.

"alright, tattoo guy. i see you have a strained relationship with your family. but that's why you build those connections yourself! with nicer people"

he clamped his eyes shut in irritation. "…look-"

nope. her monologues knew no end.

"it wasn't even my plan to work here actually. my parents made me! they were too busy to mind her themselves. but i'm so glad they did, because she's the best! i would've never known! i'm not trying to sound cliché or anything, but there's always someone"

cliché? at least she's self-aware.

it seemed his thoughts had a mind of its own as they drifted.

"All we're missing is you lol" "f u"

gross. why'd he think of that?

annoyance dug into him. eli and warren would be waiting for him soon. what a waste of a break this was.

"…can i just finish my meal?"

she thankfully decided to spare him. "oh…right. sorry-"

"what's going on here? why haven't you packed up yet? we told you to vacate this area"

he didn't need to look up. seokdu staffing agency. a lot of them. how unfortunate. his eyes were glued to the empty glass. he still saw that girl's hands start to tremble from the corners.

CLANG

"old farts like you just don't listen unless we use force" "you bastards! how are people like me supposed to survive?!" "not my problem, bitch"

she reached for something in her pocket. looked like a tazer. even so, he could still see her hands trembling.

seemed like the woman noticed. "…are you crazy?! get back inside! i'll handle it, so don't worry!"

…

"dad...are those guys scary people?" "i-it's okay! dad will protect you!"

for fuck's sake. "excuse me…can i get another bottle of soju?"

...?

the next few minutes were honestly a blur. he fought those staffing agency lackeys. then that changyong guy brought excitement in him, but he turned out like those ansan kids. samuel was simply too strong for the majority. a double-edged sword indeed.

as he took a drag on his cigarette, he noticed that girl and her aunt. they were gripping each other the whole time. as if that would magically put them in less danger.

the stall was destroyed. not solely because of the staffing agency, but still.

"child! are you okay? you're not hurt or anything?" "seriously, i'm fine! but…your stall. it's ruined"

"never mind about that! all that matters is your safety right now! and when the hell did you get that tazer?"

…seriously, was this a hallmark movie?

he took out his wallet again, pocketing his id first before handing it to the woman.

"let me pay my bill" "y-young man?! why did you give us your wallet?"

he really could've left without paying. what could they have done? but it didn't matter why. he won't miss a few bills.

"you can sell it and use the money. maybe open a nicer place…that grilled eel was decent"

right. the food. it would be a pity for good cuisine to not be tasted.

he turned for the exit...but nope, the same hand stopped him yet again.

"wait! it's not the wallet. there's so much money in this! are you really just giving this to us?"

was this girl serious? did she expect him to take it back now? …the money wasn’t for them — it was for him. a quick fix for the nagging voice in the back of his head.

"it's chump change to me. just take it" "…tattoo guy! thank you! so you were a good person after all!"

a good person. that was a new one. has anyone said that before? not jake. not sinu. not even alexander. people he begrudgingly spent months with. but she came to that conclusion from some bills and a few minutes of forced conversation?

if she’d seen a fraction of what he’d done, she’d choke. a good person. the words felt bizarre. like they belonged to someone else entirely.

"…it's fine. and…i have no family. i never had one" he began his retreat back to the car, to the slightly smaller car that replaced his fire-extinguished one.

…footsteps? oh for fuck's sake-

"thank you!" she called out. "i hope you visit suwon again! your next meals on the house!"

truly a hallmark movie. but samuel wasn't coming back. suwon was merely one of the many stops the fifth affiliate had to make.

he gets in the car and sets his glasses down, glancing at the suit he had to change into soon. the taste of eel still lingered.

there was really nothing special about her. in fact, she was quite annoying. accused him of being underage and tried to give him a therapy session.

and yet. that girl so unlike him, so oblivious to how the world really worked, her vibrance such a contrast to his dullness. it almost fascinated him. must be the soju.

yes, he wasn't coming back. he preferred seoul by a landslide.

as he drove past, he could see the two of them laughing together, even though they had to start all over again.

the concept felt slightly, just slightly, less foreign.

family, huh?

[percyluvr]

sam winchester x fem!witch!reader summary: you're unaware of your witchy heritage, or even the existence of the supernatural, until two hunters come waltzing into your life claiming that you and your mother are witches wc: 9802 warning: pre-bunker era supernatural, violence (not a lot but enough to warrant a warning, i think), not proofread dedicated to my only (i think) pjo + spn moot, skye

“You’re up early, Sammy,” Dean says, looking into the doorway at his brother wiping sweat off his forehead. “And sweaty.”

“Yeah, I went for a jog. You should try it, it’s good for you. Plus, it’s nice outside.”

“Right, no thank you. Sleep is essential to keep looking this good.”

“Alright, man, if you say so,” Sam replies, disgust apparent on his face.

“Whatever. Listen to this,” Dean starts. “A middle-aged woman in Tupelo, Mississippi, was found dead last night with all of her teeth missing, and some freaky ass carving of some horned thing on her chest. Her husband came home and found her lying on the bathroom floor. Apparently she didn’t die until after she made it to the hospital, though, so whoever or whatever did this wanted it to be long and painful.”

“Huh. Sounds creepy.”

“Exactly. So what do you think? Our kind of gig?” Dean asks, fully knowing they were going to go find out either way.

“Yeah, definitely. Y’wanna head out now or get something to eat?”

“I’m hungry as hell. I need a burger before we deal with this.”

“I feel you. Well, not the burger part, but I’m definitely gonna need food before we head out.”

“Let’s hit the town then, see what there is to eat here,” Dean says, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it over his shoulders before walking out the door, Sam following after grabbing his laptop and jacket of his own.

****

After driving for a bit, they find a small, semi-trashy diner.

"I can't believe this is the only decent looking place in this whole town," Dean complains.

"I mean, what do you expect? We're in a town with a population below three thousand."

"Right. The food better be good or else I'll be pissed. Give me that menu," he grumpily demanded.

"Their salad looks good."

"Yeah, real funny. I'm gonna get that special edition deluxe baconator," Dean said excitedly, mood immediately improving at the sight of a greasy burger on the menu.

Sam makes a face, about to say something, but is interrupted by the waitress arriving at the table.

"You boys ready to order or do you need more time?" She asks, eyeing Dean.

"Oh, we're ready," Dean flirts.

Sam rolls his eyes. "I'll get the, uh, shake it up salad."

"Okay, and for you?" She asks Dean.

"I'll get that deluxe baconator."

"Got it, I'll be back in a sec."

She starts walking away, Dean eyeing her every step of the way.

"Seriously, dude?" Sam asks in disgust.

"Yeah, look at her, dude. Tell me you don't want a piece of that."

"Alright, man, enough. As soon as we finish we're getting right out of here, no flirting."

"Whatever. Don't be jealous you never get laid."

Sam rolls his eyes as the waitress walks over with a salad in one hand and Dean's burger in the other.

"Thank you," Dean says, giving her a wink. Sam sighs exasperatedly for what feels like the six hundredth time today.

"You've got to stop that."

"Stop what? I'm just appreciating the beauties of the world."

"Yeah, I'm ignoring you now. Eat your food so we can go."

"Who died and made you boss?" Dean mutters.

Sam ignores him, and proceeds to wolf down his salad.

"Little hungry there?" Dean asks.

"Last time I checked, I was the one that went for a three mile jog this morning, not you, so I'll eat all I want, thanks."

"Just asking, don't get your panties in a twist."

"Whatever, I'm done eating."

Dean wolfs down the rest of his greasy, and in Sam's opinion, disgusting burger, managing to nearly choke on it twice, then stands up and walks toward the counter. He turns around and mouths 'getting her number,' and raises his eyebrows twice at Sam, who just rolls his eyes in response.

Sam shakes his head and walks out to the Impala, assuming that Dean is flirting, with a side of paying for their breakfast.

He opens the shiny black door of his brother's 1967 Chevy Impala and sits down on the beige seat, looking out the window at the diner. Moments later, the door opens and Sam sees Dean’s smug smile and a small piece of paper being waved around in the air.

When Dean sits down in his car, he immediately looks at Sam. “And that is how it’s done by a true master of charm,” he boasts, putting the key in the ignition and shifting to reverse.

“Good for you. I can get girls’ numbers too, y’know. I’m not celibate, or whatever crap you call me.”

“Sure, Sammy. Whatever makes you feel better. But if you really think you can get a girl’s number instead of me, you’re mistaken. So, whoever gets the number of the hottest girl wins.”

“That’s stupid, I’m not doing that.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, we won’t see. I’m focusing on the case.”

Sam sees Dean smirk in response as they pull out of the parking lot. He clenches his jaw in annoyance.

****

Halfway on the way to Tupelo, Sam asks, “So what do you think we’re looking at here? ‘S not everyday we work a job like this.”

“Honestly? No idea. Not a big fan of the carving on the chest, either. Never seen a symbol like that before.” 

"Great," Sam grumbles, and for the rest of the car ride his thoughts were full of possibilities of what they could be hunting.

****

Four hours later, the Impala rolls into Tupelo, and the first building they see is a fairly decent looking motel, which they decide to spend the night in. After checking into the motel, they carry their bags into the room, immediately grabbing out their fake FBI badges and cheap costume suits.

After quickly changing, they head out to the Impala. “Ready to see every dentist’s nightmare?” Dean jokes.

“Actually, pretty sure that would be you. I can’t remember a day where you didn’t eat some kind of candy or tooth rotting food,” Sam says. “Or even brushed your teeth for that matter.”

“Dude, I brush my teeth.” Sam raises his eyebrow. “Sometimes.”

Sam scoffs. “Yeah, right. Your breath smells like a dead person.”

****

Dean parks the Impala in front of a white two-story house in some, as Dean says, stuffy suburban neighborhood. They get out of the car and walk over to the house, Sam knocking on the front door.

A man, the woman's husband, Sam assumes, opens the door.

“Mr. Feezerman, we'd like to talk to you about your wife,” Sam says, flashing his fake badge.

“Thank God the FBI is involved. The cops here have no idea what's going on. Come in,” Mr Feezerman says, gesturing for them to come in.

Dean sits down on the couch, leaving Sam standing next to it.

“Mr. Feezerman, do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Sam asks.

“Go right ahead. It’s upstairs, the second door on the left.”

“Thanks,” Sam says with a little nod of his head.

Upstairs in the bathroom, Sam searches through the drawers for a hex bag, but comes up empty. He moves onto checking the cabinet below the sink, but still nothing. He finally looks in the medicine cabinet and finds a small brown cloth tied together by a leather string.

"Damn it," he grumbles.

He grabs the bag and heads back downstairs after putting it in his pocket.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs and sees Dean turn to look at him. Sam gives him a nod indicating his search was successful.

"Alright, that's all, thank you, Mr. Feezerman," Dean says.

****

"Alright, so what are we thinking?" Dean asks.

"Well, based on the hex bag I found, I'm thinking witch. And not some beginner level witchcraft, either, dude. I'm talking ancient witchcraft, warts, wrinkles, and all."

"Awesome," Dean groans.

"Yeah. And I'm thinking it's not just one witch, either. Witches this strong usually form covens to protect themselves."

"Awesome times two," Dean says, furrowing his eyebrows and grimacing.

"Well, what did you get? She have any enemies?"

"Her husband said that her and some of the other prissy ladies were in some sort of book club or whatever he said, I wasn’t really listening. I was thinking about that waitress from before,” Dean says dreamily.

“Dude, focus.”

“Right, anyways. Apparently, he found out through some lady she was friends with that she was cheating on her husband with one of the other lady’s husbands. Say that five times fast.”

“Sounds complicated, but also like we have some clear suspects.”

“Right. The book club or wine club or whatever it is these trophy wives do with their free time.”

“Dude, chill with the ‘I hate cookie-cutter families’ thing.”

“My bad.”

“You wanna head to the morgue or talk to suspects?”

“I’ll go to the morgue, you talk to suspects. I can’t handle any more of these people.”

“Alright. Did you get any names or addresses?”

“Obviously. This isn’t my first hunt,” Dean says, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, man. Take me to the first house.”

****

When they reach the first house, Sam gets out of the car.

“Meet back here in 30?” Sam asks.

“Uhh, y’know what? I think I’ll come with.” 

“What happened to not being able to handle any more of these people today?”

“Well that is one cougar just begging to be tamed,” Dean says, eyeing up the woman sitting on the porch.

“Disgusting, seriously.”

“Don’t hate the player.”

“Shut up.”

They walk up the pathway and up the stairs. When they reach the porch, the blonde woman gets up from her spot on the swing.

“Hello, boys, how can I help you?” She asks.

“FBI, we have a few questions about Amelia Feezerman,” Dean says, holding up his fake badge.

“Oh, dear. Come inside, then,” she says, leading them inside to the living room.

“So, nice place you got here,” Sam says.

“Oh, thank you,” she says, and before she can continue, Sam hears the pitter-patter of feet on the floor. “Honey, the cookies look delicious. Hopefully you two like chocolate chocolate chip.”

“Oh, I’m not really a sugar pers-“ Sam starts to say, but when he sees the woman standing in front of him, he quickly changes his mind. “But it doesn’t hurt occasionally.”

“Good, it’d be a shame if these cookies went to waste,” you say, winking at him.

“Like mother like daughter, damn,” Dean says under his breath.

Sam elbows him. “Knock it off,” he hissed.

“Before you two leave, let me know how the cookies are,” you say, gaze lingering on Sam before you walk out of the living room and back into the kitchen.

“We will,” Sam says, making ‘goo-goo eyes’, as Dean later calls them, at you.

“Dude, go in there and talk to her, I’ll talk to the mom here,” Dean says lowly to Sam, who nods in response and follows you into the kitchen.

The unfamiliar sound of footsteps prompts you to turn around, surprised to see the, in your opinion, cuter agent following you into the kitchen.

“Hello, agent,” you say with a grin.

“Hey, I’m Sam,” he shyly responds.

“Well, Sam, what did you think of the cookies?” You ask eagerly.

“They were really good. I’m really a sweets type of person, but you surprised me,” he compliments, the crinkling of his eyes serving as an effect of the wide smile gracing his face. You think that his smile makes him at least five times cuter, but you decide to keep that to yourself, for now at least.

“Well, thank you. I’m glad to contribute to the conversion of you into a dessert lover,” you joke, earning another beautiful smile from him.

“So, I’m not exactly here to talk about your cookies, however delicious they may be,” he admits, albeit a bit nervously for someone in the FBI, you think.

You raise an eyebrow. “How can I help you, then?”

“Have you heard about the death of Amelia Feezerman?” Your eyes widen, and you nearly choke on the cookie you were eating.

“What? Oh my God, no, I had no idea.”

“Ah, so you wouldn’t happen to know anything about her death?” He questions.

“Um, no? Why would I know anything about that?” You wearily ask.

“We thought that maybe you would know if there was any reason that anyone would want to hurt her.”

“Well, I didn’t really know her all that well. I know that she was in some book club thing with my mom, but that’s about it,” you say, crossing your arms. “Actually, I did hear that she was getting it on with some of her friends’ husbands.”

“Yeah, we know that,” Sam begins, “wait, plural husbands?”

“Yep,” you say, popping the ‘p.’ “She’d get with anything that breathes.”

“I see. So do you think any of these women would want to get revenge on her for that?”

“Oh, definitely. Some of these women are vicious. Rich women are some of the craziest people I’ve ever met, so glad I’m only back for three months,” you snicker.

Sam laughs. “So, you in college, then?” 

“Yeah, I’m in my third year, just home for the summer,” you explained.

“Yeah? You enjoying college?”

“Partially, I mean sometimes I miss my mom, but then I remember that visiting her means having to come back here, and I’m over it immediately,” you sheepishly admit.

“Really? It doesn’t seem too bad here, other than the death,” he says.

“Yeah, well, I guess you haven’t seen how people really are here.”

“How do you mean?”

“I guess I just mean that people here are petty and would do anything to get back at anyone for the smallest stuff,” you say sadly. “Especially some of my mom’s friends.”

You take the look on Sam’s face as an incentive to continue, “her friends are like, money obsessed, and if any other woman gets close to their husbands, somehow they’re mysteriously gone within the month. It’s kind of freaky, to be honest.”

Sam clenches his jaw as Dean walks into the kitchen.

"You ready to go?"

"Uh, yeah, give me a second.”

Dean gives him a look, but nods and leaves the kitchen.

“Give me a call if you can think of anything else that might be relevant to the case,” Sam says, handing a card with his FBI phone number on it to you.

“Will do,” you say, winking at him.

****

“Alright, so, what do you got?” Dean asks.

“Well, apparently this isn’t the first time this has happened here. According to her, multiple women go missing every year, all women that have gotten too close to the husbands of these book club ladies.”

“So we’re looking at a coven full of snotty rich women?” Dean complains, shoulders sagging.

“Guess so.”

“Doesn’t seem so bad for you though, Sammy. Don’t think I didn’t see you laying down the nerdy charm in there,” he jokes.

“I wasn’t flirting,” Sam defends. “I was just getting information and she happened to be pretty and conversational.”

“Sure, Sammy, sure.”

****

Before heading back to the motel room, Sam and Dean decide to stop by a restaurant for dinner.

“Dude, don’t tell me you’re gonna get another salad. You need some real food.”

“Like what? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure what you eat wouldn’t be classified as ‘real food’ either.”

“It’d be closer to real food than the shit you eat. You eat rabbit food, I eat manly food,” Dean argues.

“‘Manly food?’ How is it manly? It’s just greasy and disgusting. You’re gonna get a clogged artery in like 3 months because of it.”

“Whatever, I’m here for a good time, not a long time.”

Sam shakes his head and goes back to looking at the menu.

Sam’s menu browsing is interrupted by a familiar voice. “Can I get you two started with a drink?” 

He looks up to find you looking somehow just as beautiful in a waitress uniform, looking at him with stars in your eyes and a grin gracing your features.

“Well, hello again, agent. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were stalking me,” you playfully say, earning a chuckle from Sam.

“Hey, again. And yeah, I’ll just have a water,” he says.

“Alright, but honestly, I’d get the strawberry lemonade. It’s way better.”

“If you say it’s good, then I’ll give it a try,” he says, smiling coyly.

“Good, so a strawberry lemonade for you,” you start, turning to Dean, “and for you?”

Dean orders his drink, and while they wait for you to return with their drinks, they look at the food on the menus, at least Sam does, until he realizes that Dean is looking at him over his menu with a smirk on his face.

“Dude, what’s up with you and the waitress?”

“Nothing,” Sam says hesitantly. “I mean, she’s pretty, but I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? If a hot girl is hitting on you, take that as a blessing. How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid?” Dean reminds him, and for once Sam thinks he’s right, only a little bit, though. It had been a while since he even flirted with a girl, and it really couldn’t hurt, could it?

However, his train of thought is interrupted by your presence at the table again. You place each drink in front of them, being extra careful with Sam’s. 

“So, are we ready to order?” You ask.

The boys order, and you jot it down on your notepad before walking away from their table. This time, Sam takes the time to watch the way your hips swing from side to side every time you take a step. All he can think is that you have the most graceful walk he has ever seen in his life, which he then thinks is a little weird, but it’s just like him to notice these small, weird, and typically brushed over details of people.

When you back out of the kitchen doors, a plate in each hand, Sam is still staring. He can’t help thinking how beautiful you are, and how cute the smirk you always seem to have on your face is.

You place the plates down on the table. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.” You give Sam a smile that could just as easily be for both him and Dean, but he chooses to believe it was just for him.

Dean smirks. “She’s one hell of a beauty. If you aren’t gonna do anything with that blessing, I will.”

Sam gives him a dramatic look of disgust, but otherwise ignores his comment in favor of eating his sandwich. 

After they finish, Dean heads out to the car, insisting that Sam goes and talks to you. 

He walks up to the counter, money in hand. “Hey.”

You give him a grin. “Hey, there. Enjoy the food?”

“Yeah, it was really good,” he says, sliding you a twenty dollar bill. “That enough?”

You nod. “So, I get off in two hours. If you care, that is.”

He smirks. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, if my charms are still working, I would assume that you care. I’m quite pretty, after all.”

“And humble,” he jokes, earning an, in his definitely not biased opinion, adorable giggle from you. “But, yeah. You’re right, I do care.”

“Good, then meet me at the bar across the street. And don’t be late, otherwise I might find another man willing to fall under my spell.” You lean on the counter and give his hand a pat.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen, so I’ll be there.” He smiles and heads out the door, leaving you leaning your head into your palm, grinning like a teenage girl that just made plans with her first boyfriend.

**** 

When Dean sees Sam walking out the door with a smug smile on his face, he can’t help but don a smile of his own. 

Sam opens the car door, greeted by Dean’s all-knowing grin. “So, you got a date tonight?”

“It’s not a date, we’re just going to the bar after she gets off work.” 

“Well, whatever, we finally got you a lady. Make the most of it, but don’t have too much fun. Still have to get rid of these witches.” Sam finds Dean’s advice very out of character, because typically he would tell him to have the time of his life, but he’s too elated to make much out of it.

“I know, man.”

Dean pats him on the shoulder. “Let’s head to the bar, get you a head start to your night of fun. I’ll look into this witch coven.”

“Dude, since when do you want to do the research?” Sam questions.

“Ever since you started getting chicks instead of me.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You were hitting on a waitress this morning.”

“Can’t do anything with her number now, so it doesn’t count.”

“You could call it.”

“Nah, not in the area. Not worth driving all the way back for a waitress.” Sam raises an eyebrow but decides not to say anything.

**** 

In the bar, Sam and Dean are sitting at a small round table. Sam is drinking a bottle of beer while sitting across from Dean, who for once for once is not trying to get laid, but is actually researching the case at hand.

“Alright, so get this. These moms meet up at your new girlfriend’s house every Tuesday and Thursday and are there until, like, four in the morning.”

“Where are you getting this information?” Sam asks, using his years of enduring Dean’s teasing to skilfully avoid giving into Dean’s provocation.

“Some noise complaints that have been filed over the past few years.”

“So these are for sure our witches, then,” Sam observes.

“Seems like it,” Dean agrees.

Sam finishes his second beer of the night and grabs one of the files in front of Dean. 

“Alright, so there are four witches in this coven,” Sam reads from the file.

“Do you think the chick you’re meeting is also in it?” Dean asks.

Sam rests his chin on his palm, giving it some thought. He knew that some witches were born with their abilities, and since your mother was a witch, it was likely that you were born as one, but that didn’t necessarily mean that you were in on the killing, or that you even knew that you had powers. He hoped that you weren’t, but he thinks that he also wouldn’t mind it too much if you were. He would never admit it to Dean, but he thought that if you were a witch, it might be pretty cool.

“I don’t think so, she seemed really concerned about the killings and disappearances,” he defends.

“You’re just saying that because you’ve got the hots for her.”

Sam makes a face. “Yes, I like her, but I’m serious. I don’t think she is.”

“Alright.” Dean puts his hands up as if to say ‘Sorry, please don’t kill me now.’ 

Sam sees you walk in the door, heading straight for the bar. After taking a few more sips out of his new bottle of beer, he gets up out of his chair. Dean gives him a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ look, which he gracefully ignores in favor of sitting on the stool next to you.

“Hey there, stranger,” you say, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Hey,” he says giddily, causing you to come to the realization that he’s already at least a bit drunk. 

“So you’re a happy drunk,” you observe.

“Whaaat? I’m not drunk,” he argues.

You give him a knowing smile, but indulge him anyway. “Alright, fine. How’s the case going?”

“‘S good, we have suspects now,” he boasts.

“Yeah? I assume that’s all thanks to your hard work here,” you tease.

He gives you a toothy grin. “You know it.”

The bartender comes over and you order some fruity drink that Sam doesn’t catch the name of. When you get it, Sam asks to try it, which you oblige, of course.

“Wow, that’s good. I want one, too.”

“It is, but is that really a good idea? How many beers have you had already?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Two, but I started on my third.”

“Oh. Well, I guess you can have some more of mine, but don’t drink too much. It’s pretty strong, and we wouldn’t want your partner over there to have to deal with you being too drunk,” you tease.

He frowns. “Who cares what he thinks? He’s bossy,” he groans. “And annoying,” he adds for safe measures.

You give him a comforting smile and a pat on his arm, causing you to realize just how muscular it is, along with the rest of his body. You somehow didn’t notice before, but now that you have, it’s all that’s on your mind.

“Sounds like I’ll have to take you off his hands for the night then, huh?” 

He notices that your hand is still on his arm, causing a light pink to dust his cheeks. “Sounds like a plan.”

“So, once you’re done with this case, how long until you leave?”

“It depends. Could be a week, could be the same day we finish the case. For you, though, I’m sure I can arrange staying around for a bit longer,” he suggests.

“That sounds nice,” you admit.

“Good, I’ll work it out then,” he states. “You look beautiful, sorry for not saying it earlier.”

“Well, thank you.” You grin, slightly shocked at how bluntly he says it, but you’re definitely not complaining. Looking over Sam’s outfit, you can’t help notice how good he looks in jeans and a flannel. The way the sleeves of his flannel tighten around his arms doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Now that you’ve seen how he looks in the basic combination, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to think another man looks good in it. “You don’t look half bad yourself. Casual is your look, agent. Not to mention that shirt is doing wonders for your arms,” you compliment, causing a dark blush to appear on his face for the second time tonight.

“Thanks,” he mumbles in embarrassment, clearly not expecting you to have flirted back, and if he did, he definitely didn’t expect you to flirt so blatantly. He’s flustered, and so, he decides to shift the conversation topic off of himself. “So, where do you go to college?”

“Last year I transferred to Stanford, but I went to an in-state college that was far enough away from here before.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, giving you a small smile. “I went to Stanford, too.”

“Really?” You ask.

“Yeah, I was studying to be a lawyer. Until my brother came to my apartment and told me he needed my help looking for our dad, at least” he admits.

“You didn’t finish school?”

“No, but it turned out to be a good thing,” he says, his voice sounding like he was trying to convince not only you, but himself as well. You raise an eyebrow, but in hopes of not upsetting the cute puppy-eyed boy you’d met only hours earlier, ultimately decide against saying anything to contradict his statement. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice your hesitance to accept his statement.

“I’m glad. Although, I’m sure you could still finish school if you ever wanted to. It wouldn’t hurt to have a back-up plan,” you suggest, laughing internally at the fact that being a Stanford educated lawyer would be his ‘back-up plan.’

“I guess. But I don’t think I could let Dean work all by himself.” The crestfallen expression he has on his face after imagining leaving Dean, paired with his puppy dog eyes is almost too much for you to handle. 

You put your hand on his arm, rubbing your thumb across the flannel he was wearing. “You’re a good partner, Sam. He’s lucky to have you.”

A perplexed look flashes across his face until he realizes that you meant they were FBI partners, and he quickly recovers by giving you a small smile. You find yourself unable to think about anything but his gorgeous eyes, sweet smile, and silky hair, causing you to get that warm fuzzy feeling that all your friends describe when talking about their boyfriends, and you feel yourself returning a smile without even trying. It felt almost like a reflex, and you realized that you were developing a crush on the tall, sweet, doe-eyed man. This thought is even further confirmed after Sam puts his large hand over yours, curling his fingers around your significantly smaller ones, causing your heart-rate to pick up.

You don’t even notice the blush appear on your face until you hear Sam’s teasing voice. “Now who’s the one blushing?”

“It’s just the lighting, don’t get all cocky,” you try to defend, to no avail, though, since Sam’s mischievous grin does not falter after hearing your defense.

“If you say so,” Sam says, doing his best not to let a doubtful expression cross his face.

“I do,” you firmly state. A small lull of silence overcomes the conversation, and you search through your brain to search for a new topic to discuss. “You said you have a brother? What’s his name?”

“Uh, about that. Dean is my brother.” Your eyebrows lift slightly.

“No way. You guys are brothers and work together? That’s pretty cool,” you observe.

“Yeah, sometimes. Other times he’s a real dick, though.”

“I bet. But he seems pretty nice for the most part.”

“He’s a good guy, he just thinks he has to protect everyone, especially me. He doesn’t realize I can do things on my own. I mean I was in college without him and I did just fine.”

You nod sympathetically, understanding how complex family relationships can be. From there, the conversation flowed smoothly and you felt like you could tell Sam anything without any judgment, leading you to ask, “Would you, uh, want to come over to my house for the night? My mom isn’t going to be home tonight.” As you say it, you feel like you’re in high school all over again, and you start to regret the words as soon as your lips stop moving.

Sam’s eyes widen and he stays quiet, further fueling your regret. For those brief few seconds, your mind races and you worry if you came off too strong or if he simply isn’t interested in you past a drunk conversation and flirting. Luckily, he realizes the look on your face and saves you from any further anxiety. 

“Sure, that sounds good.” Once again, the infamous smile graces his features, cheeks puffing up causing his eyes to crinkle and because not only is his face beautiful, of course his eyes have to be, too. You swear, even if no one else in the whole world agrees, his eyes are so beautiful in that moment that they glimmer.

You beam at him and slip off your stool, grabbing his hand and leading him off to the door. He looks back at Dean to find him already smirking at him. Dean gives him a wink, and for what is probably the millionth time in his life, Sam completely ignores him, focusing on the way you’re eagerly dragging him out of the place and to your car.

****

The next morning, Sam wakes up in a room that is far too nice to be the hotel that he and Dean were staying at, even though they always got the best room. He quickly remembers the events of last night and smiles. Although, his smile fades when he looks next to him to find you nowhere in sight. He rubs his eyes, looking around the room at the posters and decorations that let him peer into a tiny part of your life without worrying if he was overstepping any boundaries. 

He gets out from under the blanket and slips off the side of the bed, walking over to your desk that holds a curious collection of trinkets and a book full of pictures. He’s in the middle of flipping through the book when he hears the creaking of a door opening, and his reflexes have him whipping his head to see where the noise came from. You let out a little giggle when you find his face looking like a little kid that just got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He tilts his head as if asking what you were laughing at, but you just shrug, a cheeky grin still on your face.

“Whatcha doin’ there, Sam?” 

For a moment, Sam is at a loss of words. “Uh, I was just….” He trails off.

“Don’t worry, I’m not mad. Just wondering what you’re looking at.” Your words clearly ease his mind, as he picks up the open photobook and points at the picture he was looking at. You smile as you look at a highschool version of you with some of your friends at a festival. 

“It’s a cute picture. You dyed your hair, though. I almost didn’t realize you were in it at first.”

“Yeah, I figured since I was going to college I should switch it up a bit.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, watching as Sam continues to flip through the pages. You carefully watch his expression change as his eyes move around the pages looking at different moments of your life. He was glad to get even more of a glance into who you were. 

Eventually, he reaches the end of the book and closes it, setting it back down on its rightful place on your desk. He joins you on the bed, sitting an awkward distance away from you, causing you to let out a small chuckle.

“What?” He questions, his puppy-dog eyes in full effect again.

“You can come closer, y’know. I don’t bite,” you tease. He blushes, as even more memories of last night flood into his brain. You definitely bit, but apparently only during certain hours of the day.

He scoots closer to you until your shoulders are comfortably pressed together. You take advantage of the proximity and lean your head on his shoulder.

“So, any plans for today?” You ask him.

“Not really. Just stuff for the case. I should probably check my phone.” You nod, and Sam thinks that the divine beauty of the slight raise at the corners of your mouth is unrivaled by any other sight Sam has ever seen, and he has seen almost too much in his short life.

He reaches over to the table next to your bed, trying his best not to move away from you and disturb your peaceful state of simple existence. He turns on his phone, seeing a few texts from Dean with more details on the case. He turns his phone off and decides that it wouldn’t hurt to stay here with you for another hour. You’re surprised by the weight of his head resting on top of yours, but who are you to complain? 

****

Unfortunately, an hour can go by very fast when you’re, as they say, having fun. Watching Sam walk out of your house pulled on a part of your heart that you wish it hadn’t, knowing that Sam would soon be leaving your not so small town and you would more than likely never see him again. You don’t think you would be able to handle not seeing him again, even though the two of you have known each other for less than a mere day. With these thoughts swirling around in your brain, all you can do is give him a small wave when he turns around to look at you one last time before getting into his brother’s ‘67 Impala.

****

“Dude, tell me about your night. Was it the craziest sex you’ve ever had? Is she freaky? Waitresses always are, man.” Dean’s rambles fill Sam’s ears as soon as he closes the door to the old, black car.

“Really? You couldn’t even wait five seconds before you start with this?” Sam complains.

“You haven’t gotten laid in centuries, Sammy, excuse me if I want to know if my little brother had a good time.”

“Shut up.” 

As usual, Dean completely ignores Sam’s protests and continues asking graphic questions about the ‘hot witch waitress’ until they arrive at the house of one of the witches in the coven.

****

Dean knocks on the door of the white two-story house, and within seconds is met with the face of a standard looking middle-aged woman.

“Hello, ma’am, FBI,” Dean says, flashing his fake badge, actions in sync with that of his younger brother.

The woman’s eyes widen slightly, but she schools her face back into neutrality quite quickly. “Come on in.” She motions for them to step into the house.

Dean sits down on the large couch in the living room, leaving Sam to remain standing next to it. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Sam asks.

“Of course, go right ahead. Up the stairs and two doors to the right.”

Sam gives her a grateful smile before he walks out of the living room and heads up the stairs. When he began his search, he had expected to find one hex bag, or maybe even zero, but what he hadn’t expected was three. He raised an eyebrow, assuming that all the others in the coven would have at least coordinated this better, but here he was, looking at three different hex bags.

He quickly grabs them before flushing the toilet to avoid suspicion or potential disgust on the woman’s part if she realized that he hadn’t flushed the toilet. 

Heading back down the stairs, he gives Dean a small nod to indicate his findings and to signal Dean to wrap up his investigation.

“You boys have a good day, good luck with your investigation,” the woman says, closing the door behind them as they walk down the stairs connected to the front porch.

“Dude, there were three hex bags in her bathroom,” Sam says, pulling the bags out of his pocket.

“I thought they only needed one? What’s the point of having more?” Dean inquired.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s more powerful or something.”

Dean made a sound of acknowledgement but said nothing in return. Sam took it as a cue to continue talking.

“So, I was thinking we just wait until a night that they meet up and then ambush.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean agreed.

****

Back at the hotel room, Sam is researching more for the case, just to be safe, while Dean is out grabbing something for them to eat. Sam assumes that he’s gone back to the restaurant you work at so he can grab another glance at you.

Sam is deep into a passage on witchly powers when his phone rings, he assumes it’s Dean, but the small screen shows an unknown number. His eyebrows raise, but he answers the phone nonetheless. 

“Hello? Sam?” A familiar, but shaky voice asks from the phone.

He says your name as if it were a question, to which you quickly say, “Yes, um, sorry to be calling this late but I think there’s someone in my house.”

Sam’s jaw clenches, his whole face tensing up before quickly relaxing again as he prepares to defend the woman that he now found lingering in every crevice of his mind.

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes. Just lock your door and stay in your room, alright?” 

“Okay. Please stay on the phone with me, I’m really scared,” you admit.

“Yeah, yeah, you got it,” he says, rushing out the door of the hotel room before realizing that Dean was still out getting food. “Shit,” he breathed. However, now he could finally reap the benefits of his daily morning runs.

“What?” 

“Nothing, just a slight change of plans. Just stay calm.” His voice was slightly strained and now sounded more like a moan than actual words, and if you weren’t so damn scared you might have found it sexy.

****

About seven minutes and lots of heavy breaths from Sam’s end of the phone later, Sam was at the front door of your house, gun full of witch-killing bullets ready in one hand, and his small phone in the other. 

“I’m here, you’ll be good if I get off the phone?” He asks, fully ready to somehow manage to find a way to stay on the phone while fighting if you need him to.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Do what you need to do, please,” you say, but he hears the fear in your voice.

“I’ll be done and up there as soon as possible, alright? Don’t worry.”

He hears a small sound of acknowledgement from the other end of the phone before he finally ends the call and goes into the house. He heads straight for the door to the basement that, luckily, he had found when he made his journey to the bathroom the first time he was over at your house. He opens the door and grabs a second gun out of his pocket for safe measures, especially since Dean was nowhere to be found despite Sam’s multiple texts.

He slowly creeps down the stairs, doing his best not to let his weight cause the stairs to creek. Fortunately, he makes it down soundlessly, but is now stuck with the task of creeping through the abnormally large basement without getting cornered by witches.

It takes a few minutes before he finally hears the loud chanting start back up again, and while he knows that he’s probably free to walk as loudly as he wants to, he still keeps up the stealth.

The chanting slowly gets louder, and Sam steadies his arms to shoot both guns. As soon as he sees two figures in the door frame, he pulls the trigger on both, not wanting to risk the chances of them performing some spell on him before he gets a chance to get them first.

Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that there was still a third member of the coven, and as soon as he turns around, he’s met with the face of your mother, as well as a book harshly hitting his head and rendering him unconscious. 

The next thing he knows, he’s tied up in the same room that he shot the two witches.

“You’re not FBI, you’re hunters,” your mother says, disgust obvious in her voice.

“Like you’re any better. You kill innocent people,” Sam grunts, starting to discreetly rub the rope he was tied up with against the chair to cut it.

“Innocent? Oh, please, no one in this world is innocent, especially not you, and even more so since you’ve involved yourself with my daughter,” she spat.

Sam grimaces. “Oh, yes, I know all about that.” She smirks.

Sam is about to speak, but is interrupted by your voice calling out for him. As your voice grows closer and closer, Sam realizes his progress on the rope is not as fast as he hoped, and if he didn’t hurry up, you’d be in the room before he was free. 

However, to his dismay, you enter the room before he can free his arms, and all that he can think about is how awful it would be to watch you die, especially by the hands of your own mother. The nauseating thought is interrupted by a loud smashing sound that Sam immediately recognizes as a bat to the head. His head shoots up and he sees you, eyebrows furrowed with your eyes glazes over as you realize what you’ve done. 

He finally manages to get the rope holding his hands behind his back cut as you sink down onto your knees and start sobbing. His first reaction is to run over and hold you, asking if you’re okay, but he isn’t sure if that’s what you would want, and there’s no way in hell that he would want to upset you even more.

He settles for walking over to you and kneeling down with one hand on your back rubbing what he hopes are soothing circles on it.

“It’s gonna be okay, I promise,” he comforts. “It’ll get better. Just know you had to do this, alright?”

“I know, Sam, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I didn’t even think about it, I just saw you tied up, and that was my first reaction. Am I insane?”

“Hey, hey, don’t say that. It’s fine, you’re fine.”

Finally, you turn towards him and collapse into his arms, and though he’s surprised, he catches you and holds you closely and firmly to his chest. The hand that was once on your back is now on your head, comfortingly playing with your hair, and the other is wrapped around your waist as you sob into his shoulder.

****

Hours later, you’ve finally calmed down, and you and Sam are in your living room sitting on your couch, along with Dean, the other FBI agent that had arrived while you were still sobbing, much to your later embarrassment. However, Sam had reassured you that it wasn’t embarrassing, and Dean definitely wouldn’t find it so.

After his reassurance, you could find no trace of embarrassment still lingering in your mind. It was surprising that someone you’d only met a few days ago was able to not only understand you like that, but also manage to diminish your insecurities so easily. You found yourself thinking about how much you and Sam seem to have in common and how easy it is to talk to him. 

You lean your head on his shoulder, and out of the corner of your eye you see a small smile on his face. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and brings you closer to him.

“Oh, get a room,” Dean grumbles in annoyance, but Sam knows that he’s just faking it. He knows Dean too well to not realize that he really is happy for him.

****

When you wake up the next day you feel a warm presence next to you in your bed. You quickly recognize the presence as Sam, leading you to snuggle closer, resting your head on his chest.

“Good morning,” Sam says groggily, his voice breaking you out of the peaceful trance you were in.

“Good morning,” you reply.

Sam gives your arm a small squeeze before sitting up. You mirror his actions, ready to start a conversation, but are interrupted by the loud sound of his phone.

He gives you an apologetic look and grabs his phone to presumably read a text.

“It’s Dean. He has a lead on the case,” he states, to your annoyance.

“That’s good, I think. Would it be wrong for me to ask if I could come with?”

Sam’s eyebrows raise at your unexpected request. He stays quiet for a few seconds before replying, “I won’t say no, but I also don’t want you to get hurt. So, I have to be honest with you.”

You tilt your head, encouraging him to continue.

“My brother and I aren’t FBI, we’re hunters.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?” 

Sam swallows as if to prepare for the words about to leave his mouth.

“Monsters are real. Vampires, ghosts, all of it. My brother and I hunt them.” As the words are leaving his mouth, Sam is suddenly hit with a wave of regret. What if you don’t believe him? What if you think he’s crazy and tell him to leave?

You, on the other hand, were thinking about how happy you were that Sam was comfortable enough with you to tell you about his real life. In the future, Sam would probably laugh about how vast the difference of what was going on in each of your minds, but now, he was taking your silence as negative.

When you saw the worry on Sam’s face, you immediately realized that you’d been sitting in complete silence since he’d admitted the truth about him and his brother. 

“Really?” The one simple word brought Sam joy and relief like no other moment in his life.

“You actually believe me?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, I mean what reason do I have not to? It does sound kind of insane, but I also bashed my mom’s head in with a bat yesterday, so…” You trail off, realizing that once again you’d been using humor as a coping mechanism instead of dealing with your problems.

Sam clears his throat, now feeling very awkward. “Right… About that, are you sure you want to come with? You’ve already been through a lot.”

“It would probably help to get my mind off of it, even if more traumatizing shit ends up happening, too.”

He pursed his lips, deep in thought. “Yeah, alright. If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you.”

You smile. “Yeah, it is.”

**** 

Half an hour later, you’re sitting in the back seat of the infamous black Impala with some old rock song that Dean picked playing.

“Sam, are you sure about bringing her?” Dean asks lowly, as if you couldn’t hear him from your spot right behind him. 

“Yes, Dean. It’s not like we’re leaving her to fend for her own while we go together,” he says exasperatedly.

“If you say so.”

You clear your throat, prompting Sam to turn around and give you an apologetic smile. You return the smile, but the annoyance you feel towards Dean does not dissipate. If anything, you feel it even more so after Sam apologized instead of him.

You decide to ignore it and stay quiet for the rest of the drive.

A few minutes and one rock song later, the Impala pulls into a driveway that you recognize as one of your mom’s friend’s house. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Why are we here?”

Dean clicks his tongue. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Well, Dean, I’m sorry that I didn’t want to overwhelm her,” he sasses.

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? You brought her on a damn hunt.”

The air in the car suddenly felt awkward and you felt as though you shouldn’t be listening to their conversation. 

“I’m just gonna get out and let you two finish your discussion,” you said quickly before opening the door and walking over to the porch of the house.

As you walked up the stairs, the front door opened, and the face of your old best friend from high school appeared in the doorway. 

She called your name, a big smile adorning her face.

“Lily, hey!” You said, feigning excitement to see the girl after three years.

“It’s been so long! Come inside. My mom is downstairs,” she exclaims, ushering you into the house and nearly slamming the door shut once you’ve entered her house. As soon as you enter the house, a chill runs down your spine and you can’t help but feel nervous about what’s about to happen.

****

You’d been in the house for a few minutes before Sam and Dean had even realized you hadn’t been sitting on the porch the whole time they’d been arguing, and when Sam looked over to see what you were doing, a wave of panic rushed through his whole body.

“Dean, she’s gone.”

“What the hell? See, this is why we shouldn’t have even brought her with us.”

“Dude, whatever, it doesn’t matter, we gotta go find her right now.”

Sam quickly opened the passenger door and rushed out of the car and through the front door.

He opens the door, quickly checking the living room. Nothing. He checks the kitchen and the dining room. Nothing and nothing. He checks all the rooms on the first floor and the second floor, then goes back to the first floor to check again, when he hears Dean calling out to him.

“Sam? Come here, I found a door to a basement or somethin’,” he calls out.

Sam follows the sound of his brother’s gruff voice and finds a door he doesn’t know how he missed. He’s usually thorough about searching, but he finds himself extremely on-edge this time. He thinks it might somehow, maybe, have something to do with his not-so-subtle crush on you, and maybe the thought that losing you would be one of the worst things that has happened to him even though he’s barely known you for five days.

He quickly pushes the thought to the back of his mind, at least for now, in favor of pushing ahead of Dean and heading down the stairs into the basement.

His mind is now absent of any “lovey-dovey” thoughts of you, but chock full of thoughts about how you could be dead right now. He never should have let you get out of the car and go inside without him. If you were dead, it would be all his fault, and he would never be able to escape the guilt of having another death on his conscience. 

However, with all of these thoughts, the thought that you could actually hold your own against the witches had somehow never crossed his mind. It definitely should have, though, because when he finally reaches you, you’re standing over two feminine figures that are lying still on the ground. 

He sees your chest rising and falling as the iron tight grip you have on the knife in your hand begins to falter. The knife clatters onto the floor as you look over to see Sam.

“Sam,” you pant, and he immediately rushes over to you and takes your tired figure into his arms. He immediately feels blood that he isn’t sure of the origins beginning to soak into his jacket, but he can’t bring himself to care about that right now. The only thing he cares about is your safety, and preserving that safety for as long as he possibly can from here on out.

“Are you okay?” He whispers next to your ear.

“No, Sam, I killed my mom and then my best friend from high school and her mom in the span of not even twenty-four hours. I feel horrible.”

“You had to, okay? They were killing people. Maybe that doesn’t help you feel better right now, but eventually it will. Don’t beat yourself up over it, or you’ll end up hating yourself for the rest of your life. This is how it is to be a hunter, and I understand if after now you never want to do it again,” he rambles, trying to somehow make you feel better, which he knows is nearly impossible right now, but he can’t stop himself from trying. To him, it almost feels like someone is taking control of his body and making him do everything in his power to help you.

He realizes very quickly, though, that it’s not a person taking control of his body, but an emotion: love. The realization is scary for him, to say the least, especially because of his track record with girlfriends dying, but he thinks that he would be okay with overcoming this fear if it means you would be his.

A few seconds later, Dean walks into the room and finds himself met with the sight of your shorter figure being held, in his opinion, disgustingly lovingly by his brother. He’s happy that his brother has found someone that seems like a good person from what he can tell.

Dean whistles, eyebrows raising in approval at the sight of the two witches’ bodies behind your back. “Damn, and you didn’t even need my help. You’re getting better, Sammy.”

Sam shakes his head. “I didn’t do this. She did,” he replies, turning around and giving Dean a smug look. Dean gives him a look of annoyance at being proven wrong when it comes to your ability to fight, but ultimately decides to give it a rest, for today at least. He could tell you were shaken up, and he felt that he could sympathize, only a bit, though.

When he realizes that you had taken out the two witches on your own, he couldn’t help but feel impressed, and he confidently feels that you and Sam are right for each other. It’s funny that it isn’t your loving personality or quirky teasing that tells him that you’re right for Sam, but instead the fact that you can hold your own in a battle. That really is a more valuable asset in their lives than any regular person, so Dean is glad that his brother has been lucky enough to find someone like that.

****

Later that day, you’re all standing outside your house that now feels very empty without your mother. You never realized how much of a presence she really had until now, and admittedly, it makes you sad to think about, no matter how much you disliked her.

Unfortunately, it’s about to get a whole lot emptier with Sam and Dean ready to head out to their next case. However, Dean’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts, and his words shock you even more.

“Kid, how would you feel about joining us for a few more hunts, see how you feel? Who knows, maybe you’ll become a permanent member of our group here.” 

Sam gives him a look of pure astonishment, but all he receives in return is a smug look and a little shrug.

“Well, I don’t know. I don’t want to be a burden to you guys with all the teaching me how to hunt and all that.”

“I don’t think we’d have to do too much teaching. You’re a natural,” Sam compliments, causing a deep blush to appear on your cheeks.

“Alright, Sammy. We’re gonna have to work on all that flirting,” Dean teases. “I’ll admit, I do agree, though. That was impressive. I probably couldn’t have done that on my first hunt,” he admits.

His unexpected words of praise make you smile, and your annoyance from earlier fades away. Dean could be a pain in the ass from what you’ve learned, but he could also be nice. You figured he was usually a pain in the ass, though, but you figured that you would be able to learn how to deal with it, or at least ignore it like Sam seems to be able to do.

“Alright. To be honest, it was kind of exhilarating, but also scary. I think it could be something I could learn to love, though.”

Sam gives you a warm smile, and gestures for you to go over there to give him a hug, which you excitedly accept, falling into his larger frame as his long arms wrap around you.

Dean grumbles. “Really? Again?”

All you and Sam do in response is laugh, much to Dean’s annoyance.

a/n: would yall be interested in this being a series or something ?? idk i feel like that would be fun to do

tags: @kozumesphone

[gublernatural]

stay here | d.w.

note: this song has gone triple platinum in my house the last few days <3 luke hemmings u will always be famous TO ME

warnings: mentions of abuse and neglect (john winchester may you never live a peaceful day ever), heavy angst, if you're looking for a happy ending go somewhere else, typical spn storylines and violence, etc., not edited we die like men, intentional all lowercase

now i don't want to leave, it's a damn cold night, and i don't want to sleep, just tell me it's too late to drive

dean knew he shouldn’t have come. every bone in his body had told him to ignore the call, and he had, but when his brother’s phone rang, he knew something was wrong. his body felt numb as he carried himself to the small motel room table, pretending to be uninterested as sam nodded along to what was being said on the other side of the line.

“yeah,” sam muttered, eyeing dean, “i’ll let him know and we’ll be there soon.” sam had a rough understanding of your history with dean. he knew enough that if you were calling, there was a reason. you wouldn’t reach out unless there was quite literally no other option. and you definitely hadn’t ever been that desperate. not until now.

dean side-eyed him the entire way to your town. sam was waiting for dean to get mad, scream, turn up the radio, anything. the silence was letting dean fester. letting him sit in all the hurt and regret he had been running from for so long.

he didn’t blame you. not really. how could he when he knew you made your decision in his own best interest? dean knew when the door closed behind you, and he was left waiting for john to return, again, that he should’ve followed you out. he should’ve chased you, pulled you into him, and assured you that he wasn’t going anywhere, and he should’ve meant it.

over time, dean had realized that it wasn’t even really the hunting that made you leave. you never knew the full extent of what he did, just that he often had to disappear with his father. he knew he made that mistake with cassie and blew whatever chance he had at a semi-normal life with her, and he was not going to make that mistake again.

dean put in the effort to make the time he was there with you count, and to assure that even when he was away, you were on his mind. on one of the nights where dean laid awake, doing what he does best; hating himself, he realized that you left because of him. because of the way he allowed himself to be treated.

you had offered an escape. many times, actually. you cried, like really cried, begging to dean to get away from john. to stay with you and stop putting up with the abuse. that he didn’t need his father and that you two would figure it out. and you were halfway right. he didn’t need his father, but his father sure as hell needed him.

even when he would leave dean alone for weeks on end without so much as a phone call, john needed him. john needed dean as a reason to return home, as a reason to stay angry at yellow eyes, as a reason to keep going when all he wanted to do was give up.

even if he didn’t treat dean like he was worth holding on for.

dean wished he could turn back time, tell you that he finally sees, really sees, what you did. he can recognize now how john had hurt him, physically, mentally, and emotionally. yet, he still didn’t love himself enough to care. he didn’t love himself to condemn john’s actions. in dean’s eyes, he did what he had to. he taught dean the important stuff, and thats what mattered. he taught dean how to hunt and how important it was to take care of sammy. the two things that gave him his drive, his sense of purpose, his everything.

you were once a part of that list, but that was then and this is now.  

now, you were a part of list of things that john winchester had ruined for his sons.

“are we going to talk about it?” sam broke the silence, aggravated with way dean was stewing his own hurt and confusion. 

“there’s nothing to talk about,” dean shrugged, brushing sam off in a way sam was all too familiar with.

“dean,” sam huffed, growing more frustrated, “she called me.” he stressed. sam was away when dean had his chance with you, at stanford, living the life dean swore he had no interest in.

“only because i didn’t answer,” dean informed. sam was shocked, pausing momentarily to figure out how to reply. sam always assumed that if you called, dean would be there. there would be no hesitation, dean would be out the door and in the impala before sam could ask where he was going. sam had wished that would happen, briefly in the past.

but, clearly, he was wrong.

“why?” sam asked with that confused scowl he got when dean was being a difficult pain in the ass. dean shrugged, finally reaching forward to turn on the radio.

when they arrived at your home, dean couldn’t bring his legs to move. he wasn’t sure how long he sat in the front seat staring at your dainty apartment building. he wished he had a cover to use. he wished you were a stranger and he could play fbi and pretend there was no history here, no words unspoken. no regrets.

sam turned back to the car from where he was standing at the door to the building, glaring at dean. dean hadn’t noticed him leave the car, honestly.

despite this, dean huffed, pulling himself from the driver’s seat and pretended like each step towards you didn’t send a stabbing pain up his leg, settling into a ball of uncertainty and anxiety at the base of his back.

sam stood in front of dean, knocking delicately on your door. they’d arrived quite late. dean found solace in sam going in first, as if sam was protecting him for once.

the door creeped open slowly, and dean was glad you were careful about it. “sam,” you smiled up at him, letting your eyes soak in the way he’d aged over the years. you’d never seen him in person, but he still looked like the little boy dean would show you pictures of as he reminisced about being in locked in crappy motels and eating dry cereal three times a day. despite the fondness in dean’s voice as he would recall these moments, they always left a sour taste in your mouth. once again displaying the neglect they’d each received from their father. you hated the man, and that was ultimately drove dean away. 

“hi,” sam smiled as he said your name, filled with glee to be meeting you for the first time. he truly hoped this would be good for dean. you were the only person dean had ever truly loved outside of his family, in sam’s opinion. the only partner he would ever talk about with a smile on his face, and a miniscule of regret in his tone.

your smile faltered, but your eyes had a small gleam in them as you turned your attention to dean. “hi, dean,” you pretty much whispered, further opening the door to let them in, but never really looking dean in the face. dean pressed his lips together and turned up the corners of them, in what he would call a smile, but anyone else would roll their eyes at the attempt.

“i didn’t mean to bother you guys,” you started as everyone settled into the living room. you were in your reading chair and the brothers took up your couch. you couldn’t help but wish this view was more familiar.

“i used to think you were crazy,” sam chuckled as you gestured to dean, “i mean, whispering to john about ghosts and werewolves and such on the phone. i was never sure to make of it, i chocked it up to some weirdo piece of media you guys were wayyy too involved with,” dean knew you were masking something with humor. a skill you both used in situations where you were uncomfortable, one he’d helped you master.

that was even more apparent when you shifted your gaze downwards and wiggled a little in your seat, “but i saw one. i think i saw one, i mean. it was odd,” you trailed off as you brought your gaze back up, meeting dean’s eyes for the first time since he’d arrived.

“what happened?” and he speaks, you thought. you chose to ignore the protective edge to dean’s voice and pulled your gaze away from him. he was here to help you and your friend, nothing more, nothing less.

“i was, um,” you shifted uncomfortably, again, “at my friend’s house. her brother had passed recently. i thought i was dreaming or something the first we saw him. he was normal, like he had been right before he passed. my friend thought it was cool, i mean, she had her brother back. but last time, just a few nights ago, it was different.”

“how?” dean’s deep voice carried, already knowing where this was going. spirits that stick around get angry. that’s a simple fact.

“he was like, mean, i guess? like things were being thrown at us and he screamed. it was so odd.”

“and you didn’t think something was wrong when you started seeing her dead brother?” sam deadpanned, asking the million dollar question. dean glared at him, not liking the tone he was speaking to you with. “c’mon man, if someone we cared about’s ghost started popping up, salting and burning their bones might not be the first thing on our minds, either,” dean hushed him.

your eyebrows furrowed, “what?” sam hit dean with a head tilt, one that said nice going, dude, without having to say anything. 

“when there’s a spirit they’re usually attached to something that’s keep them from, um, moving on,” sam explained. “commonly, it is their bones. was your friend’s brother buried?” you shook your head, “they cremated him.”

“does your friend have something of his? something he cared about?” dean asked. “yeah, she kept a couple of his little league trophies. and his journal, even though she swore she’d never read it.”

sam and dean engaged in another non-verbal conversation before shifting their attention back to you. sam was the one who spoke, “i think we’re gonna need that journal.”

you weren’t sure exactly what went down in your friend’s bedroom while sam and dean were in there and you and her were sitting comfortably in the impala. you’d seen this beautiful car every time john would pull up to pick up dean, but had never seen the inside of it. it was nicer than you had pictured. 

“you should be all set,” sam informed your friend, walking her back into her house. you leaned against the driver side door, pressing your arms to your side, drawing in all of the warmth you could.

dean, who was standing a respectable amount of steps away from you, also leaning against the side of the car, noticed your slight shiver. he moved without thinking, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. you glanced at him, puzzled by his action, but putting it on regardless. no words were exchanged. 

you tried to ignore how comforting his scent was.

“let’s get you home,” dean mumbled as sam approached the car. you nodded, moving to climb in behind him. 

“i’m gonna grab some food,” sam smiled at dean, pointing at the flickering lights of the diner a short walk away from where dean parked in front of your building. dean just nodded. then, he sped up his steps so he could catch up to you and walk you to your apartment.  

“thank you,” you smiled at dean for the first time in years as you leaned against your door frame. dean shrugged, “it’s what we do.”

you nodded and a beat of silence passed between the two of you. it was comfortable, just for a moment. then, you remembered how sam was the one who answered your call.

“you ignored my call,” you observed, sadly. after everything, you had still thought dean would care about you, worry about you, even.

“yeah, i,” dean cleared his throat, contemplating what excuse to come up with. if he went with one, it would be the first time he ever truly lied to you. sure, he’d withheld information, but he had never flat out lied to you. so, he decided to go with the truth, “i was scared.”

dean winchester, admitting he was scared. someone call the presses. a world-changing admission had just been spoken.

“of?” you pressed, knowing you were towing the line. dean didn’t answer, just met your gaze with a stone-cold stare. one that told you everything you needed to know. he was scared those feelings hadn’t gone away. that he hadn’t buried them with the worst memories of his dad, his mother’s death, and his time spent in hell. he was scared that he couldn’t run from his past anymore, that he’d be slapped in face with what ifs and could’ve beens.

and, rightfully so. 

dean could feel every fiber of his being screaming, no, crying out for you. crying out for you to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him all of the things he’d been through were over and done with and he is safe and he is home. all he wanted was to stay here with you. to be selfish for once in his fucking life and just stay. even if it was for just a night. 

you were the one who cleared his throat, “it’s late, dean” please stay, it’s not smart to drive tired, he wished you’d add.

“yeah, i should go,” dean nodded, but made no effort to make his way to the stairs of your building.

after an intense battle in your mind, one between your rational side and your emotional side, one that you’d been fighting since you found dean’s phone number on a crusty sticky note in your desk drawer, you said, “you guys could stay here, the couch is pretty comfortable and it’s been a long night.”

dean’s eyes shifted to his shoes, a small smile crossing his face at your offer. everything he wanted and everything he knew he couldn’t have in one sentence. “no, we should get back.” he responded, nodding in the direction of his car. “more ghosts to get rid of.”

you nodded, “goodnight, dean.” he didn’t answer, just sent you a sad smile before turning towards the stairs. 

i hang on every line. i'd do it all again. i guess i just feel better around you.

[elizabethsblogg]

~Dean Winchester headcanons-

✨Dean Winchester x Reader✨

••••••••~••••••••~••••••••~••••••••~••••••••

How you met:

-You lived next door to one another. And just as Mary was a hunter by her family heritage, so were you and your family. Once John started training the boys to be hunters you eventually started tagging along and traveling with them. Because of your family situation it wasn’t safe for you to be at home so when you turned 18 and Dean offered for you to come with him from town to town you went in a heartbeat. Now years later it’s you, him and Sammy in the Impala fighting the otherworldly creatures.

How you started dating:

-Sam definitely gets the credit for getting the two of you to admit your feelings for one another. Although Dean won’t admit that his brother was the reason why the two of you are together.

-You both had harbored feelings for one another for years. But of course you guys were equally stubborn, and scared to ruin the relationship you both and built over the years. So you didn’t actually officially start dating until after Dean reunited with Sam (season 1); because Sam played the part of the wingman and pushed you both in the direction of admitting your feelings to one another.

What kind of boyfriend he’d be:

-Definitely very protective. In the series he’s obviously very protective of Sam so it would make sense that he’d be even more protective of the love of his life.

-But with that said he’d also be the type of boyfriend to say “You wear whatever dress you want sweetheart, I can fight.” So he’s protective but not controlling.

-Oh yeah, his pet name for you is sweetheart. I think this, because Lawrence Kansas is in the Midwest and Midwesterners definitely view sweetheart as a term of endearment. Other pet names would be, doll, sweet girl, pretty girl, my woman; things like that.

-Unfortunately being the son of John Winchester, Dean grew up with little to no affection. Which left him not really knowing how to show affection. When you first started dating Dean didn’t really say I love you, and was kind of awkward with physical touch. Things like hugging and holding, sweet nothings, thigh grabbing, anything along those lines. Eventually you talked to Dean about it and he opened up to you and told you how he felt. It came down to the fact that he just didn’t know how to do those things the right way. It’s not that he didn’t want to show you affection he just didn’t know how. After that conversation you pretty much showed Dean that it wasn’t awkward to do those things and you pretty much taught him how to show physical affection. You also showed him that it was okay for people to love him. It took him a really long time to believe that he was worth you taking care of him.

-Dean definitely has rejection sensitivity, and very co-dependent with your guys’ relationship. He’d always making sure that the two of you are on good terms and that he hasn’t done anything wrong (again with the way John raised him, he was never able to do anything right in his dads eyes. And he had to earn his father’s love so he thinks he has to earn yours.)

-Once he got comfortable with physical touch, he did it all the time, whether it was holding your hand, waist, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, or when at a table he’d grab your thigh, especially when driving the impala he’d have his hand on your thigh, occasionally going a bit higher. He always had to be touching you.

-I feel like if you were dating Dean you make mixtapes of his and yours favorite songs

-He would definitely let you drive the impala, at first he’d be terrified of you scratching Baby but he’d eventually get comfortable with it.

-We all know how much Dean loves pie. Every town you visited you’d try the local diners pie. So much so you started a little Polaroid book filled with Polaroid pictures of every pie you both tried and rated them in the book, so if you were ever passing by that town again you’d know where and which pie to get.

-One of the gifts he’s gotten you was a pocket knife engraved with his and yours initials and the date of your first technical ‘date’

-When Cas pulled him back from hell it was difficult. Very difficult. Most nights he either couldn’t sleep or if he did eventually fall asleep he’d have night terrors. Once he freaked out and thought you were Alistair and pinned you against the wall, once he came to and woke up he was terrified; of himself. He couldn’t believe he’d hurt you like that. After you convinced him you weren’t mad he broke down crying, he’d been gone for 40 years from his perspective, he’d missed you desperately. Every night he held you tightly and just tried not to loose it at the thought of ever being away from you for that long again.

(If you have any other ideas that you want me to add, my messages are open ! Also this is literally like the first thing I’ve ever written besides some fanfics on wattpad a few years ago so please be kind🤞🏼)

[angelsberrymilk]

Hi dear!

I just discovered your Soldier Boy x Sam fics... and oh boy.. this was tense...

Would you mind writing some jealous Soldier Boy? Because i can't imagine that he wants to share his little Boy... (maybe with some Butcher or someone else who is flirting with Sam?)

Best wishes

thanks so much for the ask, anon 💚 Hope you'll like it! 💚💚

characters: Sam Winchester, Soldier Boy, Hughie, Annie, MM, Butcher, Kimiko, Frenchie

tw: homophobic SB, drug use, canon-typical SB behaviour

before any of you come for my neck, you can be both gay and spew homophobic shit. soldier boy is not gay tho, I don't think he is, but he is a fucking freak and doesnt care about sexuality or where his dick goes. he's a loser and likes to make people feel bad.

suggestive content ahead

💚 I'm not sure exactly HOW soldier boy and Sam crossed paths. Maybe Soldier Boy was walking by the side of the road, to another state because he doesn't have cash and a LOT of things changed since in the time he was on ice. so walking it is. and then maybe the sky ripped in half and Sam fell in his arms.

💚 maybe soldier boy decides that he may need some help and reaches out to The Boys to figure it out. They don't believe Sam at the beginning. They think he's lying to them or just maybe fell on his head. Sam is desperate to be believed and Hughie is like, “Hm, let's assume what you say is true, we don't have any way of bringing you back home, so all we can do at the moment is keep you safe, if you stick around…”

💚 Soldier Boy maybe contemplates leaving Sam in their hands, but at the end he doesn't, because Sam is attached to him, he says he'll stay with him, go with him, because back at home he's his older brother. And really, soldier has nothing better to do. so he sticks around with Sammy and The Boys. 

💚 Sammy is immediately liked by Kimiko, he quickly learns her sign language so they can talk, and she likes him for that, she even starts to consider him her friend. 

💚 Meanwhile Soldier Boy isn't very happy that Sammy is not spending as much time with him as he said he would. He glares at the woman everytime she walks by and he aggressively smokes 6 joints in a day, stinking up the place with the smell of weed and whatever drug he has rolled in there.

💚 Hughie likes Sammy too. appreciates his energy and knowledge. he's fun to talk to and not as aggressive as some of the rest *ahem* Butcher *ahem*. Hughie quickly asks him to tag along when he goes on errands, and has to be reminded to not yap about anything and everything to Sammy, after all, they weren't totally sure if Sam wasn't a cop or a secret agent. even tho no one believes he is, Butcher does, and whatever Butcher says, goes. 

💚 Soldier Boy grumbles everytime Hughie aks Sammy if he'd like to tag along to go collect a package, so he turns to Annie and complains, “Tell your fucking twink to stop dragging Sammy with him everywhere he goes, he'll get him killed!”

💚 Soldier Boy also just broods around, he would harass them for his own sick pleasure but he had to behave if he wanted them to help his new little friend, Sammy, so he stays put, glares at them, insults them to get on their nerves, and tries to pry as much information out of Sammy about his brother, Dean, as possible. 

💚 Soldier Boy would also see red if anyone flirts w his boy. Frenchie is pretty touchy, his love language is physical contact, he's kind, he's funny and he's smart. Men and women like him. and Frenchie happened to be a bit of a sucker for broad shoulders and puppy eyes. Oh, he liked Sam the second he saw him. He loved his little mole, his sharp nose, his sad eyes, soft hair and big, giant body of his. He was gorgeous. 

💚 and so when he notices that Sammy was stressed and in need of some relief, he offers to smoke with him, Sammy at first declines in a polite manner, but then at some point he agrees, because at this point, he has nothing to lose and he hasn't slept properly in 3 days. So he sits down next to Frenchie and they take turns smoking a joint. Frenchie watches the man’s shoulders sag, he watches him start to loosen up a bit, then he starts to whine and mumble all sorts of nonsense, he giggles and paws at Frenchie. And before their lips meet Soldier Boy barges in and hauls Sam over his shoulder, throws some homophobic slurs towards Frenchie and leaves. and Frenchie shouts behind him, “You're only calling me that because you're mad you want to fuck him too!”

💚 And Ohhh when Butcher realises Sammy is a smartypants and can manage just fine on his own in a fight? He quickly tries to convert him to the mission, tries to get him involved in their plans. Butcher realises how valuable he could be when he can hack security cameras, can shoot whatever firearm you give him and is well read and strong and pretty and smart and sooo smart and–

💚 “I brought him here for some help, not so you can bust in your pants when he opens his mouth, you pervert,”

💚 MM will also like Sammy. he likes his big brain and resourcefulness. I just didn't go into super detail because MM has a history with Soldier Boy and will try to kill him at any given chance. His storyline with Soldier Boy hurt me a lot and I feel horrible for what happened to his family at the hands of Soldier Boy, a racist piece of shit. MM is the only one really trying to convince Sam to leave Soldier Boy, that he's a monster, and the angst of it all, ohhh it hurts!!! it hurts!!!!! 

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tags

@klingyklaus @toasty-broski @28confusedthoughts @winchesterdefender @blackkmariah @106skin @redpopcat @arwenadreamer @nguyetdahuong @asongfortheunloved @rancidlovers @bcatwinchest @supfan67 @unabashedhonesty @hellfire-fist @nanacupid @arthrodira @loserluizard @jocelynfan @waywardsamdean @sastielbeltscene @sam-sinchester @masoena @winchestermylove @sammybeann @azrielrose @saltmonellas @boypussysam @monkibizznes @daddysboydean @notanotherthembo @i-already-know-im-going-2-hell @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis @katamcauley @sams-princess-hair @redcl8ver @yuetyin940 @loserluizard @arthrodira @runawaydr3amerao3 @giulmu @palepuppytimetravel @waynesmywife @rerejunebug @winbred @friendlyneighbourhoodfreak

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Dead Man's Blood | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, daddy issues, mentions of parental death

Word Count: 5022

A/N: Cannot believe we're at the penultimate episode of my version of the first season Supernatural!! Crazy!! Thank you guys so much for the love and support; I truly appreciate it.

When season 2 starts, the taglist will be closed! If you'd like to join and haven't already, please let me know!

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You and the Winchester boys sat at a table in a diner searching for possible cases to take on. You sat at your laptop on the side of the table with Sam and Dean to your right and left. 

Dean looked through a newspaper and folded it up in frustration. “Well, not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What’ve you got, Sammy?”

“I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota... here. A woman in Iowa fell ten thousand feet from an airplane and survived,” Sam responded.

“Sounds more like ‘that's Incredible’ than, uh, 'Twilight Zone'.”

“Yeah, I agree,” you said.

“Hey you know we could just keep heading east. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh? Cool chick, man, smokin'.” Dean whistled lowly. “You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, maybe someday. But in the meantime we got a lot of work to do Dean, and you know that,” Sam stated.

“Yeah, alright. How ‘bout you, (Y/N)?”

“Uh, man in Colorado, local man named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home,” you said, continuing to scan the web page before you.

“Elkins? I know that name,” Dean said.

You shrugged as Sam said, “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Dean muttered the man’s name over and over.

“Sounds like the police don't know what to think. At first they said it was some sort of bear attack, now, they've found some signs of robbery,” you continued.

Dean took out his father’s journal and began to flick through it. “There, check it out.” He turned the book around to you and Sam and pointed at a contact reading “D. Elkins” with the man’s phone number next to it.

“You think it's the same Elkins?” Sam questioned.

“It's a Colorado area code.”

“Alright, Colorado it is. Let’s go, kids,” you said. 

***

You and the boys made your way to the remote cabin of Daniel Elkins and picked the lock to his home. You cringed at the sight of your messy surroundings once inside. Books were everywhere, mad scribblings on stray pages covered the floor, and the furniture seemed to not have been dusted in years.

“Looks like the maid didn't come today,” Dean remarked.

You crouched down at the entrance of the home and fingered something on the floor. “Hey, got some salt over here.”

“You mean protection against demon salt, or 'oops I spilled the popcorn' salt?” Dean asked.

You gave him a dirty look. “Clearly a ring. Elkins was a player?”

“Definitely,” Dean responded. 

You rose to go stand beside the brothers and look over the journal they were flicking through.

“That looks a hell of a lot like Dad's,” said Sam as he flipped through the pages.

“Yep, except this dates back to the '60s,” Dean added.

You led the brothers into another room and took in the shattered skylights. You moved your flashlight around the room and took in the fact that somehow, this room was messier than the other ones.

“Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one,” Sam said, referencing the damage to the skylights. It seemed there were two separate entry points through them.

“Looks like he put up a hell of a fight, too,” the older brother added. He crouched down to the floor.

“You got something?” you asked, crouching beside him.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Some scratches on the floor.”

“Death throes maybe?” Sam suggested.

Dean grabbed a page from a notebook on top of the desk beside you and placed it over the spot on the ground. He rubbed a pencil over the top to create an outline. “Or maybe a message.” He peeled up the paper that now had a lot of blood on the back and showed you and Sam the rubbings of the characters. “Look familiar?”

“Three letters, six digits. The location and combination of a post office box. It's a mail drop,” you said.

Dean looked to his brother. “Just the way Dad does it.”

***

You and the boys found a letter in the mailbox labeled with the numbers and letters from the floor’s message. You leaned over the back seat of the car and read off the letters on the envelope.

“ ‘J.W.’ Gotta be John Winchester, right?” you said.

“I don't know. Should we open it?” Dean turned his head to you.

A knock on Dean’s window came before any of you could say another word. You reared back and grabbed your gun from your belt, pointing it at the sound.

“Dad?” Dean breathed out.

You breathed out sharply as John opened the door and slid into the seat next to you. “I almost shot you, dude.”

He chuckled at you.

“Dad, what are you doing here? Are you alright?” Sam asked, turning to face him.

John’s gravelly voice seemed even more tired and worn than the last time you’d seen him. “Yeah, I'm okay. I read the news about Daniel; I got here as fast as I could. I saw you three at his place.”

“Why didn't you come in, Dad?”

“You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren't followed. By anyone or anything. Nice job of covering your tracks, by the way.”

Dean looked a little proud. “Yeah, well, we learned from the best.”

“Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?” Sam questioned.

John nodded. “He was— He was a good man. Taught me a hell of a lot about hunting.”

“Well, you never mentioned him to us.”

“We had a— we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years.” He gestured to the envelope. “I should look at that.” He opened it. “ 'If you're reading this, I'm already dead'... that son of a bitch.”

“What is it?” his eldest son asked.

“He had it the whole time.”

Sam looked at him confused. “Dad, what?”

“When you searched the place, did you— did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?”

You shook your head. “I saw an old case, but it was empty.”

John sighed. “They have it.”

“You mean, whatever killed Elkins?” Dean asked.

John started to get out of the car. “We gotta pick up the trail.”

“Wait, you want us to come with you?” Sam scoffed.

“If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun,” John rushed out.

“The gun? Why?”

“Because it's important, that's why.”

‘He’s even more of a hardass than Dean.’

“Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet,” the younger son protested.

“They were what Daniel Elkins killed best: Vampires.”

Your heart nearly dropped at the mention of those creatures.

“I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and others had wiped them out. I was wrong,” John said. 

“Damn right,” you jumped in, not realizing the sudden venom lacing your words.

The three men stared back at you, and you shrank awkwardly.

John continued to explain. “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.”

Anxiety clawed at your throat. You hadn’t faced any vampires since the death of your family.

***

You and the Winchesters found a decently priced motel to stay in to get your bearings before you went after the vampires. You watched Sam and Dean sleeping peacefully on their beds, but you were unable to get a wink. You and John sat on opposite sides of the table in the room listening to the police scanner.

You admired Dean’s relaxed features. You rarely saw him this at-ease. You wished you could be sleeping beside him, but your own mind was keeping you awake. The eldest Winchester looked over at you and whispered over the hum of the police scanner. “How’ve they been?” he asked.

You sighed. “They’re alright, I think. Been driving themselves crazy looking for you, though.”

He chuckled softly. “I figured they were.” He paused for a minute. 

“They need you more than they need me,” you said. “You should stay with ‘em. I’ll be hitting the road in a little while, I think.”

“Don’t,” he said. “They’ll need you when this is all over.”

“What? You’re not gonna stay?” You turned your head to John.

“I don’t think so,” he shook his head. 

You were disgusted at him. “Look, no disrespect, but that’s crap.”

He seemed caught off-guard. “And why’s that?” he challenged.

“Sam’s a mess. You walked out on Dean. Your boys deserve their father," you whispered harshly.

“Don’t act like you know me,” he hissed. “Dean’s a grown man. He’ll get over it. Sam, too. I’m not abandoning them; it’s just not safe.”

“Just call a spade a spade, John. Abandonment ‘for their safety’ is still abandonment,” you argued. 

“You don’t think I wanna be with my kids—?"

“No, I don’t actually,” you cut him off.

Before he could continue to argue with you, something on the police scanner caught your attention.

“Unit 22 let me confirm. Mile marker 41, abandoned car. You need a workup?” the static voice said.

“Copy that. Possible 207. Better get forensics out here,” another voice said.

“Sam, Dean, let's go,” John slapped their feet as he stood, his voice still gravelly from his anger with you.

“Mm-hmm,” Dean muttered, though still asleep.

Sam sat up and Dean rubbed his eyes.

“There’s a call on the scanner,” you said.

“(Y/N), did you get any sleep?” the older brother slurred sleepily.

“That’s not important right now,” you told him. “C’mon.”

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“A couple called 911,; found a body in the street. Cops got there and everyone was missing. It's the vampires,” John explained.

“How do you know?”

“Just follow me, okay?” John said, leaving the room. 

You turned to Sam who was putting his jacket on. “It’s how they hunt. They lay in the middle of the road and wait for somebody to pull over. By the time they get up close and personal, it’s too late. Then they leave.”

Dean sat up, still half-asleep. “You gonna be okay?” he asked you.

“I’m fine,” you responded. You could tell he didn’t believe you, but you left him behind without waiting for an argument.

***

John was talking to the cops while you and the brothers stood back by the Impala under the cover of the trees. He refused to look at you after your argument, and you refused to speak to him. You wouldn’t engage with a man who walked out on his children and put Dean through so much.

“I don't see why we couldn't have gone over with him,” the brunet sighed sulkily.

“Oh, don't tell me it's already starting.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“What's starting?” Sam asked.

John walked up before either of you could answer.

“What have you got?” Dean asked his dad.

“It was them, alright. Looks like they're heading west. We'll have to double back to get around that detour,” John explained.

“How can you be so sure?” Sam challenged.

“Sam—” Dean tried.

“I just wanna know we're going in the right direction,” Sam told him sharply.

“We are,” John responded.

You stood back next to Dean, trying not to get involved in the fight.

“How do you know?”

John handed something to his oldest son. “I found this.”

“It's a vampire fang.”

“Not a fang, teeth. They’ve got a second set that comes out when they attack,” you explained, looking over Dean’s shoulder at the tooth.

“Any more questions?” John challenged Sam.

Sam looked away and stayed silent. 

“Alright, let's get out of here, we're losing daylight,” John said. Everything he said was said with authority. “Hey, 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 going to ruin it,” he gruffly spat at his son before heading to his truck.

You angrily stared after the man before looking over at Dean, who grimaced and got into the passenger’s seat.

Sam drove, keeping a close follow on John’s truck. You rested your chin on Dean’s shoulder, looking over the excerpt he was reading about vampires in your journal. He read aloud to you and Sam. “ ‘Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten. Smaller packs are sent 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.”

Sam grumbled, “That's probably what Dad's thinking. Course, it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks.”

“So it is starting,” Dean sighed.

“What?”

“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?” 

Sam huffed. “No. Look, I'm happy he's okay, alright? And I'm happy that we're all working together again.” 

“Well, good,” Dean said. 

The younger brother was unable to help himself. “It's just the way he treats us, like we're children.”

“Oh, God.” You sat back in the seat, doing your best to ignore the fight between the brothers.

“He barks orders at us Dean, he expects us to follow 'em without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal,” Sam argued.

“He does what he does for a reason.”

“What reason?”

“Our job! There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, alright? That's just the way the old man runs things.”

“Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids but not anymore, all right. Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line and letting him run the whole show?” Sam looked over at his brother angrily.

Dean gave Sam a long look before strongly responding, “If that's what it takes.”

Sam shook his head and returned his eyes to the road.

A few minutes later, Dean was on the phone with his dad. “Yeah, Dad. Alright, got it.” He hung up. “Pull off at the next exit.”

Sam’s frustrated tone was back. “Why?”

“ ‘Cause Dad thinks we've got the vampire's trail,” Dean said matter-of-factly.

“How,” Sam somehow sounded angrier.

“I don't know. He didn't say,” Dean responded.

Sam gunned the engine, and pulled in front of his dad’s truck before slamming the breaks.

“What are you doing, Sam?” you asked.

Sam got out of the car without answering you.

“Oh, crap. Here we go.” Dean followed his brother out of the car. “Sam!”

You just watched from the back seat, deciding not to get between the family’s brawl.

You watched in the driver’s side rear view mirror as John and Sam got in each other’s faces. Dean was trying to pull the two apart, and you could make out some of what they were screaming at each other about.

Sam approached the car again before spinning back around at his father. You often got in fights like that with your own father but more about his treatment of you and your brother. You knew better than to argue his orders.

“You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!” Sam yelled loudly enough for you to hear.

Dean then shoved the two apart, forcing Sam back to the car. Sam got back in the driver’s seat, still enraged.

“Sam, do you want me to—”

“No,” he snapped at you.

“Oh-kay, then.”

***

You and the brothers sat in the trees watching the beat-up barn the vampires called home. Dean stood beside you and cursed, “Son of a bitch. So they're really not afraid of the sun?” as he watched the vampires climb into a car, shielding their faces with their hands.

“Nope,” you said. “Direct sunlight just stings like a badass sunburn.”

“The only way to kill 'em is by beheading. And yeah, they sleep during the day— doesn't mean they won't wake up,” John added.

“So I guess walking right in's not our best option,” Dean said.

“Actually, that's the plan,” John grinned.

You and the brothers flipped open the trunk of the Impala and began grabbing machetes. John did the same with his truck, but his was outfitted with a fancy, automatic, hidden compartment.

“Here, (Y/N).” Dean handed you a rusty machete.

You caught sight of the giant blade their dad was holding. “Whoa, why don’t you have any like that?”

Dean snorted and turned his head. “Wow.”

John paused, closing his trunk. “So, you boys really wanna know about this Colt?”

“Yes, sir,” said Sam.

“It's just a story, a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter,” John began. “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. Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow, Daniel got his hands on it. They say... They say this gun can kill anything.”

“Kill anything, like, supernatural anything?” Dean breathed.

“Like the demon,” Sam connected.

“Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun, and we may have it.”

“Wait, and you couldn’t tell your kids that why?” you snarled.

“(Y/N)—” Dean scolded, but you couldn’t help yourself.

John just looked at his eldest son. “What exactly made you keep her around for so long?”

“Both of you, stop it,” Dean said. "Let’s get these fuckers while we have the chance.”

You backed off, tension dissolving a little at Dean’s words. You looked between the boys and their father. Their faces conveyed complex emotions you couldn’t quite read.

Silently, you and Dean flanked one end of the barn while Sam took the other with his father.

You and Dean jumped through a barn window and walked around their hammocks carefully. Dean accidentally kicked an empty bottle on the ground, and you froze. You made a worried face and looked over to Dean, who froze as well.

The vampire next to Dean stirred, but didn’t wake up. You and Dean continued on until you found a woman tied up against a pole. You weren’t sure if she was sleeping or unconscious. 

“Dean,” you whispered, crouching beside the woman. He came over to you as you began to untie her. You heard a noise behind you, and Dean went over to investigate.

“There’s more,” he said, grabbing something to break the locks on the metal cages a distance away from you.

The woman you were untying began to stir, and you did your best to assure her you were here to help.

The woman awoke and let out an unearthly roar. 

“Dean!” you called, shooting up.

“Kids, run!” John called to you after hearing your voice. You and Dean sprinted out of the building, yelling for Sam as you did so. The vampires chased you, but you used the daylight to your advantage. You broke back through the trees and returned to the cars.

“Dad?! Sam!” Dean called. The two then came back up the slope. 

“They won't follow. They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life,” John said.

“Well, what the hell do we do now?” Dean questioned.

“You gotta find the nearest funeral home, that's what.”

You knew where John was going with this. You smiled at the boys who seemed confused. “C’mon, Dean,” you said, patting his shoulder. You turned to the Impala, and Sam and his father got in the latter’s truck.

Dean cruised down the road to the funeral home you had found and were planning to break into. 

“What the hell was that earlier?” Dean asked frustratedly as soon as the car doors were shut.

“What?”

“With my dad, (Y/N), why would you say something like that?!”

"Look, we got in a fight while you and Sam were sleeping. I just don’t like how he treats you guys,” you admitted.

“Well, thanks, but don’t. Sam’s enough for me right now as it is,” he responded.

A few moments passed, and you looked down at your hands. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

Dean sighed. “It’s okay.” He snorted after a moment. “Not many people would stand up to my dad like that.”

You smiled, eyes still on your hands folded in your lap. “He reminds me a lot of my dad. John and Sam fight exactly how my dad and I did. Steven always had to break us apart.”

“I just don’t understand why Sam can’t leave the old man alone,” Dean told you. “I mean, we spent so fucking long looking for ‘im, and as soon as we find him, he’s pickin’ fights.”

You nodded in understanding. “I get why he’s upset, but I agree that it’s the wrong place and wrong time right now. I mean, despite the fact that I picked a fight with him. Again, mistake on my part.” 

“Agreed.”

You let a moment of silence pass before you spoke again. “Dee?”

“Hm.”

“Now that we’ve found your dad, do you still want me here?”

He turned his head toward you. “Of course, I do. You’re not gettin’ rid of us that easy.”

You grinned. “Good. After a year of all this, you guys have become my new normal. I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to being alone again.”

Dean smirked and turned back to the road, pulling into the parking lot of the funeral home. 

After a few lies and a bit of breaking and entering, you and Dean were headed back to the motel with dead man’s blood in hand.

“What does that stuff do exactly?” Dean asked you as he drove.

“It’s kinda like vampire food poisoning. Pretty useful stuff,” you explained.

“How’ve you been with this whole thing?” he asked.

“What, the vampires?”

Dean nodded.

“Winchester, are you goin’ soft on me? Since when do you care to get into the touchy-feely?” you joked.

He rolled his eyes in response. “Answer the damn question, (Y/N).”

You sighed, dropping your plucky attitude. “I’m okay, I think. I just— I haven’t hunted any vamps since my parents died. Any time I sniffed any out, I ran the other way. It’s kind of ironic that the one thing I fucking hate hunting has the one thing we need to kill this demon.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, well, y’know… Just…” 

“There’s my boy. Having trouble with moments of sincerity once more,” you gibed but became serious once more as he rolled his eyes. “I know. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

***

You were surprised to find John and Sam laughing when you reentered their motel room.

“Whew. Man, some heavy security to protect a bunch of dead guys,” Dean said.

“Get it?” John asked.

You reached into Dean’s jacket pocket and pulled out a paper bag with a bottle full of blood inside it. You handed it over to the eldest Winchester.

“You know what to do,” he said.

***

You hated watching that creature feel Dean up and kiss him, but you knew you needed to let it happen for the sake of getting the Colt from the vampires. You’d already nearly beheaded her when she backhanded him.

Another vampire appeared behind the woman holding Dean in the air by his face, and that was when you made your move. You used a crossbow to shoot both of the vampires straight between their ribs, and the girl holding Dean dropped him.

“Dammit,” she cursed as you approached the group from the trees. “It barely even stings.”

“Give it time, babe,” you told her. “That arrow’s soaked in dead man’s blood. Should be giving you a nasty tummy ache any second.” You pouted at her mockingly as she began to waver and lose consciousness.

“Load her up,” John ordered you and his sons. “I'll take care of this one.” Moments later, you heard a slashing noise and blood splattering coming from behind you as you finished loading the girl into Dean’s trunk.

***

You met John in a clearing in the woods where you and Sam were setting up a campfire. Dean tied the unconscious vampiress to a tree, and you circled her, fuming.

“Easy, tiger,” Dean told you. “Don’t kill her just yet.”

“I’m tryin’ not to,” you responded, gripping the handle of your machete tightly.

He chuckled at you and turned to his dad.

“Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk's cabbage, and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready,” John commanded.

“Stuff stinks!” Dean coughed.

“That's the idea. Dust your clothes with the ashes, and you stand a chance of not being detected,” his father replied.

“You sure they'll come after her?” Sam asked his dad.

“Vampires mate for life,” you broke in. “She means more to the leader than the gun.”

“But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time,” John added.

“A half hour oughta do it,” shrugged Sam.

“And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can,” John stated.

The boys began to protest.

“Well, Dad, you can't take care of them all yourself,” Dean said.

“I'll have her,” John replied, referencing the passed-out vampire. “And the Colt.”

“But after. We're gonna meet up, right? Use the gun together. Right?” Sam looked at his father expectantly. There was a long pause before Sam spoke again. “You're leaving again, aren't you. You still wanna go after the demon alone." Hes scoffed mockingly. "You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like children.”

“You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe.”

Dean spoke up much to your surprise. “Dad, all due respect, but, uh, that's a bunch of crap.”

“Excuse me?” the older man scoffed.

“You know what 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,” Dean argued.

“It's not the same thing, Dean.”

“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,” John responded.

“You mean you can't be as reckless.”

“Look, I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mother's death… it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I won't,” John admitted.

“What happens if you die? Dad, what happens if you die, and we could’ve done something about it?" He let his words hang in the air for a moment. "You know, I've been thinking. I think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together,” Dean stated.

Sam nodded as his brother continued. “We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it.”

John’s walls went back up. “We're running out of time. You do your job, and you get out of the area. That's an order.”

Dean looked down at the ground, and you watched him carefully as he tried to suppress his rising emotions. 

***

After you and the boys freed the people that had been locked up in the vampires’ barn, you went to find John and the members of the nest. You found them just in time because John had been knocked on his ass by the vampire you’d kidnapped.

You and the brothers hurried out of the trees and began shooting vampires with a crossbow. You moved toward the leader with your machete, but he backhanded you and held you in a headlock with his arm around your throat. 

You struggled against him as he addressed Dean, who was holding a machete of his own. “Don't! I'll break her neck. Put the blade down.”

Dean hesitated.

Luther tightened his hold on your neck, causing you to struggle more. “It’d be a real shame for her to die.” He dug his nose in your hair and sniffed deeply. “She’s pretty. I’d love having her around. Drop it!”

Dean did as told, and his jaw clenched in fury. 

“You people. Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do,” the leader said.

“I don’t think so,” came John’s voice from behind you. The vampire spun you and himself around to face John, who shot the vampire in the middle of his forehead. He dropped you to the floor, and Dean rushed to your side.

You turned and watched a sigil appear on the man’s forehead where he’d been shot as his girlfriend screamed in agony. “Luther!”

The vampire slumped to the ground, dead. The vampiress started toward John, but was pulled away by her friend to get to their car. They took off, wheels screaming and leaving you in the dust.

***

You sat in the brothers’ motel room, having finished packing long before they had as usual. John entered the room and addressed his sons. “So, boys.”

They stopped packing and turned to face him. “Yes, sir.”

“You ignored a direct order back there,” he said crossly.

“Yes, sir.” Sam hung his head low.

Dean argued, “Yeah, but we saved your ass.”

John held his son’s challenging stare, and you swallowed nervously.

“You're right,” John admitted much to your surprise.

“I am?”

If it weren’t for the situation, you would’ve laughed at Dean’s adorably clueless face.

“It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So… we go after this damn thing. Together.”

You smiled as the two boys said in unison, “Yes, sir.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @skys-writings @immagods @metalblindbitch @missmieux @yoongi-holland

hi there lovebugs!! quite a few tags were broken :( if i've misspelled your tag, please let me know! make sure you have my blog notifs on so you don't miss an update!!

[samofmine]

something about possessive desperate needy sam is like cocaine to me. whiny baby brother that pouts and whines and sniffles whenever dean gives attention to anyone or anything else and tries to keep that attention on him at all costs???? fuck yes.

but. something about dean being the needy whiny possessive one is absolute CRACK. TO ME. dean trying to please his baby brother, doing whatever he wants and whatever he needs and even trying to hold back and hide the way he feels because he doesn't want to overwhelm sammy but even holding back he looks absolutely insane to the average person. at school, some girl being like "im having a party you should come" and then him being like "nah gotta stay home with my brother" and the girl like "oh that sucks lol" and dean "??? i just said i'm staying with my brother did you not hear me???? is there anything better than that???" and the girl just. oh. ok. and trying again by insinuating she wants to hook up and dean just "yeah sure i'll let you know! gotta talk to sammy first" . and she just. leaves. confused af. and dean doesn't even notice cause he's been watching sam across the cafeteria while he eats his lunch, trying to read his lips to know what he's talking about with his classmate. like the absolute creep he is.

[cailinsblog]

Puppy Love in the Snow-Clayton Keller

Clayton Keller x reader

Masterlist

The first snow of the season had come overnight, transforming the quiet Arizona neighborhood into a winter wonderland. Snow blanketed the streets, rooftops, and trees, making the world look like a scene from a holiday postcard. The air was crisp, and the early morning sun glistened on the fresh powder.

Clayton Keller and his girlfriend, Y/N, stood by the front door of their cozy home, bundling up in layers. Today wasn’t just about enjoying the snow—it was about making memories with their new addition to the family: a golden retriever puppy named Sammy.

Sammy was a ball of energy and fluff, his soft golden fur standing out against the stark white snow. He bounced excitedly at their feet, his tail wagging furiously as he pawed at the snow piled up on the porch. His little puppy barks echoed in the stillness, filled with pure joy and curiosity.

Clayton chuckled as he pulled on his gloves, watching Sammy attempt to bite a snowflake. “I think he loves the snow more than we do,” he said, his voice filled with warmth.

Y/N laughed, her cheeks already rosy from the cold. “I think you’re right. He’s been waiting for this moment since the day we brought him home.” She crouched down, gently ruffling Sammy’s ears. “Ready to go on your first snow adventure, buddy?”

Sammy responded with an enthusiastic bark, his little body wriggling with excitement. Clayton reached down, clipping the leash onto Sammy’s collar. “Alright, let’s hit the trail,” he said, holding out a hand for Y/N.

She slipped her gloved hand into his, and together, the three of them set off into the snowy wonderland.

The neighborhood was quiet, with only a few other brave souls venturing out into the cold. The snow crunched beneath their boots as they walked along the tree-lined path that led to the nearby park. Sammy trotted happily beside them, his tiny paws leaving a trail of prints in the fresh snow.

Every few steps, Sammy would stop to investigate something—a twig poking out of the snow, a bird fluttering in a tree, or just a particularly interesting patch of snow. He’d pounce on it, his little legs flailing as he tried to dig or chase whatever caught his attention.

Clayton couldn’t stop smiling as he watched their puppy explore. “He’s got so much energy,” he said, squeezing Y/N’s hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this excited.”

Y/N nodded, her heart melting at the sight of Sammy’s playful antics. “It’s like he’s discovered a whole new world. Look at him—he’s so happy.”

At one point, Sammy decided that Y/N’s boots were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. He pounced on her feet, barking and wagging his tail as if inviting her to play. Y/N laughed, bending down to scoop him up into her arms.

“Sammy, you silly pup,” she said, cradling him against her chest. His warm little body contrasted with the cold air, and his soft fur brushed against her cheek. “You’re already the highlight of this walk.”

Clayton leaned in, gently kissing Y/N’s temple. “I think he’s got some competition,” he teased. “You’re pretty good company yourself.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with happiness. “Well, I think we make a pretty great team—all three of us.”

As they reached the park, they let Sammy off his leash in the designated dog area. The puppy immediately took off, bounding through the snow like a little golden blur. He chased after snowballs that Clayton tossed, his joyful barks filling the air as he leaped and twirled in the snow.

Y/N pulled out her phone, capturing videos and photos of Sammy’s playful antics. “We’re going to have so many memories from today,” she said, her voice filled with warmth.

Clayton came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as they watched Sammy play. “I wouldn’t want to spend this day with anyone else,” he said softly, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Y/N leaned into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her back. “Me neither,” she whispered. “This is perfect.”

They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth, as the snow continued to fall gently around them. Sammy eventually tired himself out and trotted back to them, his tongue hanging out and his eyes sparkling with happiness.

Clayton knelt down, scooping Sammy into his arms. “Alright, buddy. You ready to head back home?” Sammy licked Clayton’s cheek in response, making him laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

As they walked back, Sammy nestled comfortably in Clayton’s arms, his little head resting against Clayton’s chest. Y/N reached over, stroking Sammy’s fur gently. “He’s going to sleep like a rock tonight,” she said with a smile.

“Same,” Clayton replied, grinning. “But first, we’re making hot chocolate when we get home.”

“And cuddling on the couch with Sammy,” Y/N added.

“Absolutely,” Clayton agreed. “Best way to end a snowy day.”

By the time they reached their house, the snow was beginning to taper off, and the sky had taken on a soft, golden hue. Inside, the warmth of their home greeted them like a comforting hug. Clayton set Sammy down on his little dog bed, and within moments, the puppy was fast asleep, his tiny body rising and falling with each peaceful breath.

Clayton and Y/N curled up on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket, their mugs of hot chocolate steaming in their hands. They watched the snow continue to fall outside, their hearts full of love and contentment.

“Today was perfect,” Y/N said softly, leaning her head against Clayton’s shoulder.

Clayton smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Every day with you and Sammy is perfect,” he said. “I can’t wait for all the adventures we’re going to have together.”

And as they sat there, with their little family complete, they knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of love, laughter, and snowy memories.

[sup3riorsese]

Intro to the no title Sammy Fanfic

Even as a child, she knew she was different from her sisters. 

At first, she simply thought it was because she was the only boy. Then she became a girl, and nothing changed. The look in her Daddy’s eye when he got upset or drunk, her Momma’s face when she said certain things, and how her sisters got away with so many things. She could always name something that made her feel like the odd one out. 

She didn’t understand it. Why did Daddy like them more? Why did Momma never yell at them? She tried to be better. She did everything. Whatever her Momma asked. Helped Daddy with the farm. Always made sure her Abuela was okay. She thought it would be enough… It never was.

Now, all she could think about was how unfair it all was.

———

Sammy hated going to Saturday dinners. 

She had to deal with her sisters’ pestering, her Momma’s nagging, and Pa’s criticism. The only real reason she went was for her Abuela. She knew it’d break her heart if she didn’t come. So here she was, at her parents' house, sitting uncomfortably between her sisters. She wanted to go home.

“Sammy, are you listening to me?”

“Yes, Momma. You were talkin’ ‘bout the cattle.”

Her Momma narrowed her eyes for a moment before continuing. “Yes, well, I was thinking we should switch to a different supplement company, I heard about a good one that-” Her Momma would ramble into convincing herself this idea was a need thing if she didn’t stop her.

“I don’t know, Momma,” Sammy interrupted, “I think the supplements now are good. Changing the cows’ diet might cause ‘em to get sick.”

“Don’t interrupt her,” Her Pa’s gravely voice snapped. He always spoke to her like that. Like some commander, some authoritarian. Always her. She looked down at her plate as she bit her tongue. “Sorry, Pa. Keep goin’, Momma, I ain’t mean to cut you off,” She said, trying to move past it, but her family never let things like this slide.

“What have we told you ‘bout jumping into conversations?” Her Daddy scolded, like she was a bothersome child. He grumbled as he waved his fork around, “You’d think you’d outgrown that childish trait of yours.”

“Yeah, Sammy, so childish.” Her younger sister, Camilla, really was annoying, she had to admit. Was she that annoying as a teenager? “I said I was sorry.” Sammy gripped her fork tightly. “It ain’t gonna happen again.”

“I don’t even see why you said that. A few cows get sick, so what? We can always change back,” Her elder sister, Gabriella, said. Her sisters were always like this. Ever since she was young, they’d bullied her. When she liked Barbies and dolls instead of cars, when she wasn’t as tall as the other boys, they even bullied her for choosing her new name. When they were all young, she let it go, thinking that they didn’t know any better. She wonders now that maybe they did, maybe they just didn’t care.

“The cattle should stay healthy,” Sammy tried to explain, “Sickness will cause ‘em stress, and that will just cause a whole set of other issues.”

“You’re just worried about that dumb cow of yours. Maybe we should just make her meat. We’ve got plenty of replacements,” Gabriella and Camilla laughed as if it were funny. Sammy raised Bessie since she was thirteen. She loved that cow, they knew that. She looked to her parents, but they only snickered at their daughters' enthusiasm. 

“Hey! What have I told you all about Sammy’s cow, hm? How about I grill up that noisy cat of yours? At least the cow does something.” Her Abuela said as she turned her nose up. She huffed before looking at her and smiling, scrunching her face.

Sammy loved her Abuela with her whole heart.

They all quieted as the elder snapped at them. Despite everyone in the family seeming to love using her as a punching bag, her Abuela always stuck up for her. Even her rowdy cousins and demeaning uncles listened to her. She supposed she got lucky being her favorite grandchild.

“They didn’t mean it like that, Ma. They were just jokin’. Besides, if Sammy weren’t so sensitive, it wouldn’t be a problem,” Her Pa said to her mother, trying to ease her frustration. She waved him off, “Oh, hush, boy, I’m tired of you. Now I’m off to bed. Everyone better finish their food before anyone leaves.”

Everyone made a noise of acknowledgment as they watched her go down the hall. Sammy waited for her to disappear to her room before speaking, “Can I just take Bessie with me?”

The rest of her family looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

“I’m sorry? You want to take the cow? My best dairy cow?”

“Pa, it’s not like that. I just want her with me. I’ll give you all the milk she makes. I promise.”

Her Pa scoffed, shaking his head. He looked angry, Sammy didn’t know why. “See, this is why we can’t involve you in anything. You get all emotional and attached.”

What? “Pa wha- no I don’t. I’ve only been attached to Bessie, I don’t- why are you snappin’ on me suddenly?” Sammy didn’t understand why he was so upset. “You said you’d let each of us get an animal when we get a farm, any animal. Ain’t that what you meant?”

“I said my daughters could get any animal they wanted.” Why did he say it like that?

“...What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her Momma cut in, looking slightly frantic, “Nothing, Sammy, your Daddy’s just had a little too much to drink.” She waved her hand as her Pa continued glaring at her as if she’d committed a crime. Camilla and Gabriella had gone dead silent, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. 

“No, let him speak. What’s that supposed to mean, Pa?” She glared at him as he slowly stood. He looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time, before speaking in a dangerously low voice.

“You ain’t mine.”

Silence. The kind that squeezed the air out of the room. Sammy stopped. 

“W-what?” She stuttered. 

Her Momma tried to intervene, “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” She pulled on her husband’s arm, trying to make him do something, be quiet, take it back? She didn’t know, or care. All she could think about was his words.

“You’re Momma made a mistake once. I took her back because I knew that she didn’t mean it. Then you, You, came and I just knew. You couldn’t be mine.” Her Pa’s (?) voice was low and cold, as if her was speaking to someone he hated. Did he hate her?

“No- no you- you took care of me. Raised me. That doesn’t even make any sense. Do you hear yourself? Is this some joke?” Sammy almost pleaded. It had to be a joke, a sick joke. She was his. His daughter. His blood. She had to be. She looked to her Momma for answers, but she just turned her head away in shame. 

She stood up, rubbing a hand across her face. “D-daddy, come on, don’t- please don’t say that. Please. Daddy, please.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. She was begging. To who? She didn’t know. I’m his. I have to be.

“I just said I ain’t your Daddy, girl. Get it through your head.”

“No- this is- why now? Why tell me now? Cuz you got mad over a cow you don’t care about? No- no. Why now?”

He didn’t answer at first. He was tense and looked like he might have even regretted what he said for a moment, but he was far too prideful to back down now. 

“I’m sick of actin’ like you are. I can’t stand knowin’ I raised another man’s child.”

Sammy shook her head and took a step back. “No- I’m yours. Your daughter. You can’t-”

“You ain’t!” He yelled, voice breaking. “Every time I see you, I’m just reminded of my failure as a man, my failure led my wife astray. You’re my consequence.” He quivered as he spoke, almost as if talking about it physically hurt him. 

“Momma. Ma. Tell me he’s lyin’. Please. Momma, please.” Her Momma put her face in her hands, and tears began to fall. 

No. Sammy’s ears were ringing. She looked at her sisters, who looked uncomfortable and guilty, yet not shocked. They knew. They all knew. All those times her cousins excluded her, the way her aunts and uncles whispered about her when they thought she wasn’t looking, the way her Momma's husband favored her sisters. They all knew she wasn’t his. She felt numb. “I’m sorry, Sammy, I’m so sorry.” She vaguely heard her Momma’s voice, but none of that mattered.

Who was she? 

Sammy wiped her eyes, yet the tears kept coming. “All these years, you let him treat me like this, over something you did, and you just sat and watched? Now you’re sorry?” Sammy’s voice was louder now. “You- you let me call him my Daddy when you knew he didn’t even see me as his?” She’d never experienced this type of anger. It was scorching in her chest, fogging her mind. She turned to her Momma’s husband, “ A-and you! You- I loved you! All I ever wanted to do was make you proud, You were my hero! I would’ve done anything to make you look at me like you did them!” She said, pointing to her sisters. 

“I never would’ve made you proud, would I? It was never worth the effort. I would’ve never been good enough.” Somehow, Sammy wasn’t just telling them, she was telling herself.

Her kin sat there, none of them looking her in the eye. That hurt worse. They couldn’t even give her the decency of looking at her. “ You know what, fine. Have the family you wanted. I’ll make sure your consequence isn’t here.” Sammy said as she turned and left. 

———

She got in her car and drove off without a second word or a look back. As she drove, all she could do was cry. She didn’t know what to do with herself. What does someone do when they find out one of the biggest lies of their life? Maybe go to a therapist or-

Yaz.

She wanted Yaz. She needed Yaz. Just to hear her voice, just to not be alone for a single moment. She needed to get home and call Yaz. Everything would be fine then.

She drove and drove and drove till her house finally came into sight. She sloppily parked on the side and fumbled with the keys, barely able to see through her tears. When it was open, she threw it shut behind her, not caring to lock it back. She didn’t turn any lights on. The house felt empty with or without them. She just wanted Yaz, her voice, her warmth, her assurance. She dialed as fast as she could, the only light being her phone as she fumbled with it through tears.

Ringing…

Please answer.

Ringing…

If no other time-

Ringing… 

Pleasepleasepleasepl-

Hi, This is Yaz, Leave a messa-

She yelled as he threw her phone against the wall. She stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, before sitting down on her bed and sobbing into her knees. Who was she? How could something she took so much pride in be taken away from her so easily? Her family, her heritage, her name. Why did it have to be me? It isn’t fair.

It isn’t fair.

———

Bessie was delivered a week later. No note, no explanation. Just a random driver with a livestock trailer. 

Sammy had never felt hatred till that day.

———

[wannaeatramyeon]

Hello it's the vegetable fic person here and- and- if you want could you write something about lookism guys finding out that their s/o is skipping their meals due to busy schedules or whatever 😭

Literally do not know why my asks revolve around food. I'd like if you include gun and jake but I literally leave it upto you love u

Hey vegetable anon! FINALLY getting round to this! Sorry for the wait!

Lookism x Reader: You, too busy to eat

G/N. No TW. Gun, Jakey, Goo, Sammy

Your boyfriend is concerned.

Skipping the odd meal, forgetting to eat, day dictated by a busy schedule - they get it. Except they have noticed this developing into a bit of an ongoing habit, one that is unwelcome and they wouldn't like to encourage.

They've also taken note of the way your clothes hang a bit looser, your cheeks looking a little sunken, and the dullness in your eyes.

They'll have to take matters into their own hands.

Gun Park

Gun learns a lot of new things, a lot about himself with you.

He never used to care about other people, least of all their diet.

After all, why should he? Even when his duties include being Crystal's bodyguard, what she got up to is none of his concern as long as she was safe.

However, with you, that's a whole other story. Whenever you're feeling sad, down, out of sorts. Gun feels a prickle of unease, affecting him until he finds out how to make you smile again.

And when your smile does come out, directed at him, because of him, he can barely describe it. Something not even the thrill of a fight can touch. Like being bathed in sunlight, directly touched by the sun's caress.

His sentimentality is something new he discovered too.

Gun peers down at the food order in his hand as he strides towards your home. All your favourite dishes from your favourite restaurant.

He's not sure he completely likes his softness with you, but as long as you do, he can't bring himself to mind.

Jake Kim

It starts with pursed lips and worried eyes, Jake's hands roving over your body.

Of course he thinks you're beautiful and as long as you're healthy and happy, it doesn't matter.

The worry is that you're not healthy and happy, that you're not eating out of stress. That whenever Jake has the time to cook for you, you will demolish every crumb in sight.

It's all the other times when he's too busy.

The solution, devised by Jake, is a revolving door of Big Deal members at your front step. At regular intervals with your favourite snacks or breakfast, lunch, dinner whenever your boyfriend can't make it.

.

.

"Morning, Y/N. Boss says hi!" Jason hands over a small container of food.

.

.

"Favourite snacks for boss's favourite," Brad grins at you.

.

.

"Jake says he'll see you tonight," Jerry averts your eyes, cheeks dusting with pink at the implication.

.

.

"Boss says," Lineman grimaces, staring to the heavens and wondering why this is now his life, "he loves you and to eat well. Rest well."

After a pause-

"Jason," Lua chides, barely able to keep the smirk off her face, "What else?"

Lineman flushes crimson, hand clenched white knuckled around your food," If you don't then... he said he'll make sure to...," Seriously. Fuck his life. "-punish you."

Goo Kim

"Say ahh!" Your boyfriend holds the spoonful of rice up to your lips. How on earth he has even made a game of this you don't know.

You keep your eye on him but turn your head away. "Goo."

"C'mon, do it for your Goo Bear."

"..."

"..."

He's not grinning. Not his usual slimey smile, not even his soft lift of the lips for you.

He's also not affecting his faux pout. Where he juts out his bottom lip and pleads with large eyes.

That unfortunately for you, he quickly learned that he will get his way 99% of the time.

Instead all you get are brows furrowed with worry and an expression that's trying to be joyful but doesn't fully mask the apprehension.

It's jarring whenever you get a glimpse of Goo's genuine concern, and touching too. Your boyfriend must really be worried about you to put up this whole charade.

Fine. You give in.

Opening your mouth just wide enough, "Ah-"

Goo breathes a sigh of relief, "There we go!"

Samuel Seo

The alarm on his phone vibrates.

Samuel excuses himself from the meeting, ignoring the disapproval radiating from Eugene. It doesn't matter. Some things are more important.

You pick up only after a couple of rings.

"Hey Sammy," A nickname that he at first hated but absolutely loves now. How could he not when you say it with such affection?

"Y/N," and even saying your name relieves some of his stress of the day, "Did you remember to eat dinner?"

"Yep!"

Samuel hears the smile in your voice. You're never annoyed with his calls, with him asking the same questions. You understand it only comes from a place of concern, a place of love. The way he calls you, like clockwork, despite his hectic schedule makes your heart hurt.

"I made some extra for you too!"

Samuel peers through the boardroom window. The figureheads sitting there, discussing something or another. He used to relish being a part of this, dream about one day ruling over it all.

Yet now, all he can think about is wanting to be with you.

He responds simply and honestly, "I can't wait to see you tonight."

[chaoticbasicallyuselessbisexual]

Butterflies

listen, should I be sleeping? yes. was I supposed to be studying? also yes. did I write this instead of studying for the exam I have in like eight hours? also yes.

so please, appreciate the genius of my sleep deprived, tired brain (because I really have no idea what this is either)

Common symptoms of “Stomach butterflies” include: increased dopamine levels, elevated heart rate and tension in the abdomen.

Tension in the abdomen

Everyone knows the feeling; there’s a pretty girl sitting in your lap and you just can’t remember whether you locked after yourself when you were leaving your room. You’re going on a first date and can’t stop stress-sweating. You’re scared of heights and are looking down, where it just doesn’t feel comfortable anymore. And that’s when the feeling starts. With a squeeze on your stomach, the fear comes with hands ice cold and grips and will never let go. There goes your heart, beating like crazy, screaming at you to just haul ass. Sammy read somewhere that such fear is also tied to increased dopamine levels… Seems kinda hard to believe, doesn’t it? Isn’t dopamine supposed to be one of those happy-go-lucky hormones? Yeah, well, I don’t know about that stuff.

What I do know is that this kind of fear never ends well. Not when you drown in it, anyway. If the pretty girl just gets up and leaves, sometimes it’s better than the situation getting awkward and you sweating your balls off (at least you get to check if you locked the door). Sometimes it’s just better to down a shot before your first date, to get that extra confidence boost, instead of stressing about it so bad you can’t eat anything the whole night. And sometimes it’s just better to shut your eyes and pray to whatever’s listening, than to look down an endless pit and freeze in fear.

Being who I am and doing what I do, I’ve felt all kinds of fear. I know fear like the back of my hand. I know the feeling it gives you when it curls around your insides, stealing all your warmth and making its home there. I know it like I know my gun, like I know my car. I know the feeling it gives me just before I’m about to do something stupid. Something I shouldn’t do. (Like walking into a nest of vamps alone. Like going on a potentially really bad hunt without calling Sam, or without calling Bobby. Like summoning an unknown, possibly very dangerous creature that we know nothing about into an abandoned warehouse.) I know when it’ll come for me and when I can count on it to keep my senses sharp - to keep me alive.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said. Right. Never believe that, kids. Always listen to your fear. And if it tells you to stab the guy that just caused a poweroutage in the warehouse you summoned him into, you fucking stab him with anything you’ve got.

And my fear told me to stab him. So I did.

Fear curled her freezing hands around my insides and squeezed. It leaned deep into me, one hand pressing on my chest, and whispered in my ear.

Run. Hide. He’s gonna burn out your eyes.

I probably should’ve listened. But oh well, I hardly ever do.

When he walked in, sparks raining down on him like stars, he walked with a determined air about him, eyes staring deep into my soul.

You can’t run. It’s too late to run. If you can’t run, at least put up a fight.

God, it was the eyes, wasn’t it? The way too calm, way too focused eyes. Eyes that were focused solely on me and nothing else.

When I stabbed him, he hardly batted an eye. Looking down at his chest, he just smiled lightly and pulled it out without as much as flinching. When no blood spilt out of the wound, my knife was already lying by his feet. Before I could bring myself to react, blue light filled the gap in his chest and sealed it shut, as if no knife ever pierced his skin.

When Bobby tried to bash his head in, he was looking me in the eyes again. He caught Bobby’s baseball bat with a look that almost looked annoyed, but he was still looking at me.

I asked questions, he answered. His answers were… mostly satisfactory.

“I’m an angel of the Lord.”

… right. Because that’s a thing.

And he was still staring right at me. Those insanely blue, dark eyes pierced the veil of physical bodies and stared down at my soul. His eyes were calm. The kind of calm you can never reach unless you’ve seen things worse than death and came out of them sure that God is with you and no one, nothing can hurt you. It was that kind of calm people with deep-rooted faith have. Calm and steady, piercing and immovable. Demanding to be trusted, to be believed.

That day, I felt the fear take root. I felt it nestling beneath my lungs and making a home there. It never really left.

Elevated heart rate

It was at times like these when I felt it moving around the most. The fear.

I don’t understand why people call it that. Stomach butterflies. It’s a way too pretty name for something so ugly. I hated it. I hated how it made me feel, how scared I was because of him, for him.

Castiel never really stopped scaring me. Only the kind of fear shifted. Changed into different clothes, hid behind different motifs, but it was still fear. It was still Cas.

What did it matter if I was scared of him? If I thought he would hurt me? If I thought he ever could hurt me. It didn’t make much difference when the fear shifted from being scared of Cas to being scared of what he makes me feel. None of it mattered because nobody would ever know my feelings and how much they terrified me, other than the bottom of a bottle. What did it matter if I suddenly stopped wanting to run from him? What did it matter if I held myself back from running to him? None of it mattered. He should never know; it wasn’t right. I wasn’t right. I should’ve known better.

When I lost him-

…no.

When I failed him, the world crumbled around me. I slept, and there he was, in my dreams, looking at me. His eyes never changed. The world around us could’ve burned to the ground, and his eyes would still look at me in the same way they always did. Calm. Steady.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ and for once, I wanted to believe.

I never understood the way he looked at me. His eyes gradually lost their faith in the divine; the holiness of it all was now replaced by pain. A pain so human, I had trouble remembering he was something more than we were. Someone bigger than I was. Yet he always looked at me. Eyes full of something I couldn’t quite see, speaking languages I couldn’t really understand. Still, every time he looked into my eyes, I saw how calm and steady he was. Someone to lean on. Someone calm but sturdy, immovable but trustworthy.

He believed in me.

He believed in me, and I failed him. I left him there, I couldn’t pull him through with me. He stayed abandoned, and I was left without him.

The world should’ve burned, it should’ve crumbled and fallen to its knees and cried with me. Why didn’t it? Instead of burning to the ground with my rage, it stayed. Instead of shaking and crumbling under the weight of my feelings, it stayed firmly put, as it always was. In the golden sunlight and green, never-ending forests, my grief seemed inappropriate.

I still saw him. Every night, I would relive the moment I let him go, the moment I failed him. Every day, I would see him standing there. Close enough to call on, never close enough to reach for. Never lasting long enough to believe this time I wasn’t hallucinating.

Grief mingled with fear and pain grew out of them. The sun stopped shining. Everything was grey, and I was cold.

And then he was there. Right behind me, appearing out of nowhere as he always did.

“Hello, Dean.”

My heart almost leapt out of my chest. He was right in front of me, real, solid. The butterflies in my stomach swirled in my empty chest, and suddenly, there was my heart again. Beating faster than I ever remembered it beating, louder, livelier. The fear came back tenfold; I can’t lose him again, it screamed so loud I was afraid someone might hear.

Once more, I understood fear, a different one today than all those years ago. Not for my life, not for the life of my brother. But for the life of an immortal creature, someone who was here before me and someone who would guard the world long after I’m gone. For the life of someone I…

The butterflies in my stomach never stopped twisting, and now my heart accompanied them with a melody of its own. 

Increased dopamine levels

The butterflies never truly left, but they grew quieter. Sometimes anyway. With more than enough averted apocalypses on our hands, I grew tired and my fears with me. I was still afraid something could happen to Sam, now less than before. I was still terrified something could happen to Cas. More than ever before, I was afraid I could hurt him. So I stayed silent.

Coming to terms with the love that presented itself as an ever-present fear wasn’t easy. Not when every time I looked at him, I saw him looking at me, too. Not when those eyes held everything I could ever ask for, everything I would never deserve.

I looked him in the eyes and in the deep, dark ocean found my future. I saw grey hair on our heads and wrinkles around our eyes, and I felt the warmth of a home I didn’t get to have. Yet.

I looked him in the eyes and I saw my reflection. I saw the heaviness my face carried, something that could never be shaken off or washed. I looked at myself in his eyes and saw the blood on my hands, how it pooled at my feet and rose all the way to my knees, hips. I was drowning in blood, and there he was-

“You asked what about this was real. We are.”

I never knew what to say, when to say things.

How can I tell you without hurting you?

How can I love you without losing you?

In a world where nothing is real, my hopes are gone forever. What is love without freedom? Scripted lie without any real meaning. Is my love for you real, or is it another form of torture hand-sewn to fit me perfectly? How can I trust myself that I love you because I want to and not because some damned god wanted me to? Or would my love for you mean a threat to him? Would I ever know what was real from what was manufactured in the mind of a cruel god that made us to entertain his boredom?

The butterflies in my stomach grew sharper wings and started thrashing around. I can not contain them much longer. One of these days, I’m going to burst, and all that’ll be left of me will be a couple of butterflies blindly following after you in hopeless search of the familiar warmth of your grace.

I looked into his eyes, and they were still the same. A little bit older, with more wrinkles around the edges. Still deep and dark and terrifying like the ocean. With just a little bit more pain hidden inside of them, just a little bit more human than a few years ago. They still held all my future, they still felt calm and steady. His gaze enveloped me in a way his arms never did, and I’ve never felt more unworthy of a gentleness than when I was with him.

Even with everything that I ever knew and felt turned upside down, when I looked into his eyes, I came to understand that this was us. Not some wannabe all-powerful god set on us being his forever favourite toys.

No.

When I looked into his eyes, I knew that this, this was on us. And I may have lost all hope and everyone I’ve ever known and loved, but not him.

With the pounding on the door growing heavier, so grew my anxiety. My heart beat in sync with Billie’s fist on the door that Cas tried so hard to keep from budging.

I couldn’t look him in the eyes. We’ve lost everything, and why does it feel like it’s my fault.

I knew we were going to die there, together. It was my fault, I led us there. I never wanted anything more than I wanted his forgiveness for this.

When I looked into his eyes, he was smiling. He was smiling and he was crying and-

What are you saying?

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Please, please don’t do this.

“Because it is.”

The butterflies that dwelled in my stomach since the moment I met him morphed into a snake that crept up and coiled itself around my heart.

“I love you.”

No, please, not like this.

[losers-clvb]

woman of letters pt. 8 // dean winchester

pairing: dean winchester x man of letters!female!reader

summary: sam and dean discover the bunker of the men of letters. expecting it to be empty, they get quite the shock when they meet you.

content: dean is still down bad, canon typical violence, swearing, angst

word count: 3k

note: read on wattpad here. read on ao3 here. if you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know! please accept my apologies for the last chapter <3

taglist: @bettystonewell @kaz-2y5-spn @never-here1992 @thestoriesfold @mostlymarvelgirl @dyhsversion @deans-baby-momma @bitchykittenconnoisseur @ladykitana90

masterlist series masterlist previous part next part

----

Dean couldn’t wait to see you. It wasn’t as if he was absolutely aching with the pain of not seeing you, not after only a day, but he sure as hell missed you. He drove through the state, anticipation only growing as he and Sam traveled closer to you. He had been so caught up in bragging to Sam about how smart you were, to which Sam was only half listening to, that he hadn’t caught on to the fact that he was being watched. It wasn’t the same person at every place, but there were definitely eyes on the Winchesters.

“Dean, slow down.” Sam warned for what felt like the millionth time. He was used to his brother going above the speed limit, but between the speed and Dean’s constant talking about how your ‘eyes sparkled like the stars’ -- or whatever the hell he was going on about now --, Sam was scared they would run right off the road. Dean glared at his brother out of the corner of his eye, an unimpressed look on his face.

“Stop being such a baby, Sammy.” Dean grumbled out, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Sam scoffed and shook his head, clearly over this exhausting wonderful  brotherly time.

“You’re the one going on about her hair that’s ‘soft as a puppy’.” Sam complained, attempting to impersonate his brother when mocking his words.

“I said ‘soft as a kitten’, jackass.” Dean defended himself. Sam scoffed again. Dean really wasn’t hearing himself, hearing how much of a lovesick fool he had turned into?

“You’re ridiculous.” Sam muttered, looking out the window. Things were starting to look familiar. They were close now, only half an hour out from the bunker. Thank God, Sam thought.

“Ah, come on, you’ll be sayin’ the same stuff when you find some poor girl to fall in love with.” Dean spouted out, not realizing exactly what he was saying. Sam raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing across his face. He knew that Dean loved you, but he hadn’t thought he would ever say it out loud.

“Love?” Sam questioned, looking at his brother. Dean heard his words in his head again. Had he meant that? Had he meant that he loved you? He didn’t know. He wasn’t going to say it out loud, at least not in a way that explicitly confessed it. With his luck, it would all go sideways the second the words left his mouth. Instead of confirming it to Sam, Dean only narrowed his eyes at the road. Sam watched him for a moment longer, laughing to himself at his brother’s reaction. He looked back out the window. Finally, some quiet.

----

“Honey, I’m home!” Dean called out cheekily, bounding into the bunker. He was expecting your response, expecting you to come running into his arms like it was some romance movie. All he got back was silence. He frowned. Sam walked up behind him, carrying his bag.

“She’s probably out or something.” Sam offered, continuing past Dean to his room. Dean furrowed his eyebrows and followed him. It was strange, the way the bunker looked untouched. He peeked his head into the library. There were your books, he assumed them to be ones you had pulled out recently. Still no you. He wandered about, looking in every room in his search for you. Maybe you were gone.

That was until he walked past the armory, where you stood staring at all the weapons. A knife was held in your hand. Weird. Had you suddenly changed your attitude on weapons in the short time Dean was gone? He didn’t think so.

“Counting again?” Dean asked as he entered the room. Inventory seemed to be the only answer. You turned on your heel, a bright smile flashing across your face. Dean’s own smile faltered when you faced him. Something was off.

“Hey, baby!” You beamed. Your voice held more of a sarcastic tone than usual, more like how Dean sounded rather than you. You walked to him, arms wrapping around the back of his neck as you leaned into him. You kissed him intensely, taking Dean by surprise. He wasn’t complaining, God knows he had been waiting to taste your lips all day, but the glimpse of a bruise on your collarbone worried him.

“What happened?” Dean asked, fingers brushing against the injury. You shook your head, the feel of metal grazing against the back of Dean’s neck reminding him of the knife. Again, why did you have it?

“Don’t you worry about that. Where’s Sammy?” Your voice lilted and you pulled away from him. Sammy. You hadn’t ever called him that. Dean was suspicious now, but he couldn’t tell you that. Were you hexed? Possessed? A shapeshifter maybe?

“His room.” Dean answered. A thought crossed his mind. He grasped your empty hand in his, giving you a suggestive look. You looked interested, but there was a coldness behind your eyes.

“I say you and me go make up for lost time.” Dean offered, eyes scanning over your body. You licked your lips and nodded, following as Dean led you to his room. You hadn’t noticed that he took the long way. Your eyes bored into the back of his head as he walked and he hoped to all things that this, his plan, wouldn’t work. He hoped you were just being weird, acting like this for some reason, any other reason than what he thought.

When Dean let go of your hand and continued walking, you had every intention to continue following him. But you couldn’t move, some kind of wall was stopping you. Dean turned and watched you panic. Your eyes scanned the floor. It was empty. Your head flew back, eyes landing on the devil’s trap on the ceiling. You looked back to Dean, eyes murderous. His heart fell. He knew it. He wished he hadn’t, but he knew it.

“What gave me away?” You sneered. Dean's face was stony, even if everything in him wanted to cry. He would even take screaming at this point. His body was a rush of emotions; anger, grief, love even still for you.

“Why are you here?” Dean grumbled out, swallowing down everything other than the numb nothingness. He could think of a million reasons why this demon had come for him. A Winchester could never go a day without something on his tail, it seemed.

“Are you that dumb?” You chuckled darkly, and Dean was finding it difficult to remind himself that it wasn't actually you in there.

“I came to kill you, Winchester. Finally put an end to your silly little side quests and bring you back to where you belong: Hell.” You snarled, still trying to find a way out of the trap.

“My plan was to use some frat guy as a meatsuit, kill you off and go fuck a sorority sister before calling it a day. Then I caught an eye of this sweet, delicious body, saw the way you looked at her. I thought, ‘great, a Winchester and a virgin’ -- you know, I've never had either before.” You continued on, gesturing down your body. Dean tensed his jaw.

“Imagine my disappointment when I get in here and realize you've turned her into your whore.” You growled, rage flying through your eyes.

“Let her go.” Dean growled back. Sam had heard the commotion now and was making his way to where you and Dean stood. He was confused. Why were you so angry? Why did you have a knife? Why did Dean look like the world was getting ripped apart?

“No.” You simply said walking in circles to try to find a break in the trap. Sam looked above you, noticing that your eyes kept flicking up there. His brow furrowed at the sight of the devil’s trap before he realized it. You were possessed by some demon.

When you made a sudden movement of your arm, Dean’s hand flew to his gun. It was instinct, just something his body had trained itself to do. But it caught your attention, or rather, the demon’s attention. Seeing no way out of the trap, it decided to play with Dean before its inevitable return to Hell.

“Shoot me. Do it. Show this stupid, pathetic girl who you really are.” You held your arms out to give him more surface area to hit. Dean gulped, hand falling away from his gun. The damage was already done, the demon already had enough in its arsenal to truly hit Dean where it hurt.

“You like to play at being a hero, saving the world or whatever bullshit you tell yourself to sleep at night. But you and I, we both know it: you, Dean Winchester, are nothing but a killer. Your only instinct is to kill, and even when you're not the one to do it, everyone around you dies.” The demon watched in joy as Dean’s face melted into anguish and fear.

“She’s in here still, you know. I can hear her voice buzzing like a gnat, begging me not to kill you. She thinks she loves you. Stupid bitch.” You bit out. At the mention of love, Dean paused. Did you really love him? No, he decided. The demon was making it up. It had to be, right?

“I know one way to shut her up.” The weight in your hand reminded the demon of the knife it held in its possession. “I’m gonna slit this pretty little throat and you’re gonna watch her bleed out. Either way I’m going back to Hell, but this way, oh, this way I know you’ll remember me.” You laughed, the sound clanging into Dean’s head. You held the knife to your throat, blade making the skin dip down just slightly. You and Dean still hadn’t noticed Sam standing just off to the side.

At the sight of the knife so close to you, a cry of pain left Dean’s lips. He didn’t mean to, God knows that he was trying to keep it together, but fear flooded his senses. He couldn’t lose you, not now, not ever. The sound only spurred the demon on, motivating it to continue. Another thought crept into the demon’s mind.

“You know what, I’ll let her come out to say goodbye, just so you can hear what a terrified little bitch she’s being.” You spoke. Your face went blank for a moment before morphing into that same look you had given Dean the very first time the two of you met. He wanted to go to you, comfort you, tell you everything was going to be fine, but he couldn’t. Nothing was going to be fine, no matter the outcome of this.

“Please,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. The knife was still at your throat, digging in deeper like you weren’t in control. You were begging the demon, hoping that somehow, someway, you would be able to change its mind. You had heard everything, seen everything. Dean’s fingers twitched to reach out to you.

“De-,” you began, but his name was cut off mid way through. Your face fell blank again, but this time, instead of fear, disgust crossed your face.

“Enough of that shit.” You snarled. The demon was back.

“Say buh-bye.” You mocked, muscles moving with the intention to pull the knife across your throat. Sam was already lunging for you. He knew Dean couldn’t do it, he couldn’t force himself to be a part of this. So, he took matters into his own hands, literally.

You grunted out in shock when Sam’s hands landed on your body. You held tight to the knife, struggling to stab it anywhere, you or him, it didn’t matter. Sam, despite being much stronger than you, was having trouble wrestling the weapon out of your hand without harming either one of you. He finally pulled it away from you, but not without it stabbing into your arm first. It wasn’t fatal, but you still cried out in pain, the blade stuck in the muscles of your forearm. Sam pulled the knife out, knowing it was more important to keep it away from you. He scrambled away from you as your blood trickled down your arm.

“I hate fucking Winchesters!” You yelled out, the demon pouting in protest. It was over. They had it trapped with no other way out and no way to hurt them anymore. Sam caught his breath and stood to his feet, the knife laying covered in blood on the ground. Dean couldn’t stand this. His girl, hurt, both physically and mentally, and it was all his fault. The demon had come for him, but got to you instead.

Sam rattled off the exorcism, the Latin words rolling off his tongue in between heaving breaths. You yelled out in agony as the demon was ripped from your body, black smoke flying from your mouth and slamming to the ground, sending the demon back to Hell. Once it was finished, you collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Dean finally came to his senses and fell down next to you, holding your body in his arms. Blood from your arm was smearing across his shirt, but he didn’t care. He needed to feel you, make sure you were real.

You were breathing, but you wouldn’t wake up. Dean searched your face for any sign that you were in pain, but it was completely blank. He couldn’t believe this. Of course, right when he had any shred of normalcy in his life, it was ripped away from him. Moving from motel to motel he could handle, but this? This he couldn’t bear to deal with. A bundle of your words rang in his head, both from today and past days. I was fine before you and Sam showed up, echoed as he brushed the tear streaks from your face. Everyone around you dies, stabbed him right through the heart.

Logically speaking, Dean knew it wasn’t actually you, not really. He wasn’t being logical right now. The words, all of them, were true. Everyone did die. Everyone he had ever loved had gotten hurt. What the demon had said, what you had said, it was as if his mind had been read. All of his inner thoughts were given a voice. He had thought he had come to terms with it, or at least had the ability to ignore it, but when it was out there in the open, it sucked the life from him. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t hurt the people he loved. They were better off without him. You were better off without him.

“Dean,” Sam spoke, breaking him from his mind. Dean gathered himself to his feet, holding you in his arms. He brought you to the infirmary, carefully placing you on one of the cots. He patched up your arm, wrapping bandage and gauze around the wound. It would have to do for now. He would call Cas, pray out to the angel and demand he heal you. Later. For now, he only tucked a blanket over you and turned around to see Sam in the door.

“Dean.” Sam said again, trying to get his brother to say something, anything. Dean didn’t respond, only walked past Sam. He was headed for his room. Sam was close on his heels, huffing when Dean ignored him.

“Dean, come on.” Sam practically begged. He didn’t like this, didn’t like the way Dean was pulling a bag out and filling it with the little he owned. Sam knew this act. He knew what it meant.

Dean was leaving.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, causing his brother to snap his head in his direction. Dean’s eyes were on fire.

“What?” Dean yelled back. Sam thought he was going crazy, seeing things, because Dean’s eyes were rimmed red, like he was about to cry.

“You can’t leave.” Sam said, shaking his head. Dean tensed his jaw, looking away from Sam. He should’ve known that Sam would do this, that he would try to stop him from doing the only thing left to protect you.

“We are leaving.” Dean grumbled, shoving things into the bag still. He searched his room for anything else he had. He swiped up a few pictures that lay on his bedside table, tucking them into his jacket pocket. Sam shook his head again, blocking Dean’s path.

“Really? You’re just gonna leave her, laying unconscious, alone?” Sam questioned, trying to get Dean to reason with him.

“I’m calling Cas, and he, if he knows what’s best for him, is gonna protect her.” Dean pushed past Sam, bounding into the hall. Sam followed him.

“She doesn’t even know Cas!” Sam yelled back at Dean.

“Well, he’s better than us, Sammy. My-” Dean cut himself off, wincing at the word, “our life, it’s too dangerous for her. She can’t even shoot a gun. I can’t be by her side all the time. If we leave, then maybe those bastards will leave her alone.”

“And if they don’t? She wants you here.” Sam argued, hoping it would hit Dean. It seemed to do the opposite.

“She doesn’t know what she wants!” Dean screamed at Sam, anger overtaking him. He walked closer to Sam, standing chest to chest with him. Sam could feel the rage coming off of Dean.

“You either come with me, or you stay here.” Dean growled out. Sam’s face turned stony. There was no reasoning with him now. Dean had made his mind up.

“I’m not leaving.” Sam insisted, voice low. Dean searched his brother’s face for a semblance of anything. When he came up short, he nodded, turning away again. Fine. Let Sam stay. It didn’t change anything.

“You better hope this doesn’t get her killed.” Dean mumbled on his way out. Sam couldn’t do anything, couldn’t stop him from leaving. He could only watch as his brother made the biggest mistake of his life and left everything behind, a cloud of dust in the wake of the Impala as he drove away.