#so presumably. sam came back to dean’s room. saw he was missing. found and read the note. tore the bunker apart to look for him.

[sweetpapercroissant]

this scene is so funny to me because this. dramatic ass mf. kept the note in dean’s room. on dean’s bed. even weeks after he’s gone. and he just. walks in there all maudlin to pick it up and read it and brood. then put it back down there and walk out. rinse and repeat. for 6 weeks.

[blueaura]

Lost and Found Ch. 7

A/N: I was supposed to finish this chapter the day before yesterday but then the finale happened and I needed time to recover. I loved it - it wasn’t perfect but I still absolutely loved it. It made me cry, which I detest but I still loved it. If anyone wants to talk about the finale, send me an ask or a message!  Thanks to everyone who’s read and re-blogged it this far. As always, any tips and suggestions are welcome. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading!

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise.

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Y/N didn’t know how to feel when Dean said they were 10 minutes out. She was nervous and anxious at the prospect of entering an unknown environment, but she was also reluctantly looking forward to not sleeping in a motel room anymore. She tried to desperately keep herself calm as they approached the bunker. The car ride had been surprisingly enjoyable. Dean’s music was similar to her tastes and they had a lot of fun annoying Sam, who ended up plugging in his earphones. The tension present in the beginning of the ride had melted away by the third Metallica track, and Y/N had finally relaxed after all the excitement of the previous day. But now she felt all her emotions crowding her, bombarding her senses as the distance between them and her new home continued to shrink. Temporary new home, she reminded herself.

Dean noticed her little freak out session in the backseat but decided against pulling over. He knew that if he gave her the slightest chance, she’d run, even if deep down she wanted this. So, he just continued driving and hoped that she would have an easier time once they arrived and she had a chance to unwind.

The bunker came into view just a few minutes later and Dean winced as he belatedly realised how this abandoned building would look to a stranger like Y/N. He didn’t exactly see any option other than to get her inside the bunker and re-affirm that she’s safe, so he pulled up in front of the huge building as Y/N took in her surroundings.

“This is your home?” she sounded skeptical, but not afraid which Dean took as a good sign.

“It was an old men of letters bunker and since they were all wiped out in the 50s, as legacies, we took over. Our grandfather was a member.” Sam had already jumped into nerd mode and started explaining who the men of letters were, so Dean figured his brother could handle Y/N and busied himself with unlocking the front door.

Y/N walked down the steps still not exactly sure this was as awesome as Dean had described in the car, but then the entirety of the bunker came into view and she looked around in awe. Sam and Dean exchanged looks of barely contained glee as they saw the young hunter excitedly explore the place. This was probably the most animated they had seen her in their short time together. She actually looked and acted like a kid and Dean’s heart ached at the unfamiliar sight.

“This is amazing! You guys have your own freaking bat cave!”

Sam started to explain everything to Y/N and Dean took this opportunity to go in search of their resident angel. With a quick word to his brother, letting him know where he was going, Dean made his way to Cas’s room leaving Y/N and Sam to nerd it out.

He knocked on Cas’s door but heard no response. Worried, he twisted the handle to find it unlocked. He opened the door completely and stopped in his tracks, smiling wryly at the sight that greeted him. Cas had apparently taken Sam’s suggestion to heart. He was lounging in what looked like Dean’s sweatpants and hoodie, with Netflix playing on the TV he had apparently dragged from Sam’s room to his own. Cas himself was sound asleep, the dim light from the TV letting Dean see the drool on his face. He snickered quietly and took out his phone to click a picture.

Although Cas looked better than before, Dean was still worried about his friend. Just the fact that he needed to sleep was enough to tell him that Cas wasn’t at full strength, despite his claim that he was better. He contemplated waking the angel up and introducing him to Y/N but decided against it. He looked relaxed for the first time in days and Dean couldn’t find it in his heart to disturb him just yet.

After taking a couple of more pictures, for blackmail material of course, Dean finally left Cas to rest, closing the door lightly behind him. Instead of joining Sam, he decided to make up a room for Y/N and hunt down some food. He chose the room right in front of his, so that if she had any problem, she could come straight to him. He also realised at that particular moment that he cared more about this girl than he did for his privacy and it was a little jarring for Dean Winchester. He knew Sammy would probably make fun of him for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He made his way back to the war room after making sure Y/N’s room had everything she could need, and realised that Sam had moved on to the library where Y/N was currently exclaiming over all the different books, seemingly over her hesitation of staying with them.

“Well, Cas is asleep and I think your room is missing a TV. And possibly some clothes. He was lounging in sweats which is a first. But at least he looked better,” Dean said to Sam.

“I thought angels didn’t sleep?” Y/N turned to Dean, still at ease, which made him less anxious about having her there. Maybe it would just work after all.

“Usually they don’t. Cas… he already wasn’t at full strength but then this witch Rowena put a rabid dog curse on him – it’s a whole thing, I’ll explain later. But he was pretty wiped out and I guess he’s still recovering. He doesn’t look near death anymore though, which is good.”

“I’m more surprised that he’s actually wearing something other than his usual look,” Sam snorted.

“Yeah, I don’t think we’ve ever seen him wearing normal clothes besides that one time when he was human – it’s a long story,” he said before Y/N could ask.

“You’ll tell me later I presume,” she said wryly, echoing his previous statement, “You guys have a lot of long stories.”

“What can I say? Our lives are interesting,” Dean grinned. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

He walked her through the bunker, showing her the common washrooms, the kitchen and pointing out his and Sam’s rooms.

“And this,” he pushed open the door, “is yours. You can personalise it if you want. I’m right next door and Sam’s is right down the hall so, holler if you need anything.”

Y/N looked inside and suddenly the overwhelming feeling came back. Her own room. For the first time in her life she had a place she could call her own, albeit temporarily, she had to keep reminding herself.

“Thanks,” she said, and if she sounded a little choked up, Dean mercifully didn’t mention it.

“Settle in and get some rest kiddo,” he nodded at her, “Cas will probably be up in an hour or so… you can meet him then.”

He hesitated at the door. “Have you… did you change your mind?” he cleared his throat roughly, “about Cas and the… thing I mean.”

“I… I don’t know Dean. Maybe later. It’s already too much right now.”

She felt awful when he visibly deflated, cursing herself for hurting someone who had been nothing but kind to her.

“Yeah, alright. No problem, kid. Just – let me know if you change your mind.”

He quickly left the room after that.

 -

Y/N was pacing her new room. She couldn’t get over the defeated look on Dean’s face. She knew he wouldn’t show it, but he too really wanted to get it over with. If she was being honest with herself, so did she. She was just scared.

The more Sam reiterated the idea, the stronger it grew in her head. At first, she had laughed at the mere implication that Dean Winchester could be her biological father, but then she started building it up in her head, and now she honestly needed to know. Because now she wasn’t sure it was a joking matter, after all.

But for a person like her to even begin to grasp the idea of family was too much. She wasn’t scared of whatever the results could be. She could do worse in that area. What scared her was whatever came after – after finding out the truth. She once again felt anger rising for her mother. If only she had been honest, this wouldn’t be happening. But then again, Sandra L/N was hardly ever honest.

Could she be happy here? It was safe, she had access to food. It was a home base – everything she had dreamed of having in the last few years since she had been alone. And rationally, she knew Sam and Dean wouldn’t hurt her – at least not intentionally. She usually took much longer to trust someone but there was just something about them that made her feel… safe. Something she hadn’t felt with anyone in a long time.

So maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She was pretty sure they wouldn’t pressure her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with – Sam had reassured her of that much already. And maybe she would finally have someone to look out for her and in return she could look out for them.

She started pacing more furiously as she went over multiple scenarios in her head, overthinking every little detail. Family equalled hurt and pain in her head. And for Y/N, it had always been difficult to win against her head. She remembered when she used to believe in her mother, before she had realised that she was just a burden to her – someone she got saddled with and had no choice but to drag around. She hadn’t stopped hunting when Y/N was born, in fact she had thrown herself more into it. Her recklessness was what had finally done her in. Y/N had mostly been left with the neighbours or cheap babysitters when she was younger, before her mother decided that she was old enough to survive without supervision. She had been 6 at the time.

She had figured out how to survive by herself and she was good at it. She didn’t mind being alone, but she also craved affection, which created a weird juxtaposition of want and need inside her, that she mostly tried to bury deep down. The past week had thrown her life into a complete frenzy and all her defence mechanisms seemed useless at that moment.

Before she could spiral further, Sam knocked at her door, to fetch her for dinner. She visibly reigned herself in, but Sam didn’t comment once – just gave her an understanding smile. All these little instances were piling inside her head – how kind the Winchesters were to her and how much they seemed to care about her, making her crave that connection with them that she was too scared to allow herself to form.

“Cas is up. He’s in the kitchen with Dean, so you can meet him now,” Sam said as he started leading the way to the kitchen. Y/N’s steps faltered behind him. He paused and looked back at her,

“Hey, it’s alright. Cas is not gonna hurt you and we’ll be there the entire time,” Sam tried to console her.

“I know… I think I’m just realising that I’m about to meet an actual angel,” she squeaked, forgetting everything else for a minute.

Sam smiled at that. He remembered how overwhelmed he had been when he’d first met Cas, although the meeting hadn’t been a great one. He and Dean sometimes forgot that having an angelic best friend was not common for everyone else.

“You’ll be fine. Cas isn’t like other angels – for one, he isn’t a complete dick,” Sam laughed as he continued with Y/N in tow.

“Easy for you to say. I have never even met an angel before!” This easy camaraderie with the brothers was what was pushing her to get over her fears and Y/N could feel that pull again – the need to find out more.

“Well, you’re about to in a minute. Come on,” Sam gently pushed her in front of him, guiding her to the kitchen.

She saw Dean first, who was handing a cup of coffee to, she presumed, Castiel. Cas wasn’t what she imagined he would be. He didn’t seem intimidating. He had a ridiculous case of bedhead going on and it looked like Dean was in mother-hen mode again, as Cas was wearing a blanket around his shoulders that he didn’t seem too happy about.

Dean turned to her and smiled, gesturing for her to take a seat as he put the final touches to the pasta he’d whipped up.

“Well, looks like it’s introduction time! Y/N, this is our best friend and resident angel – Castiel. Cas, this is Y/N,” Dean grinned as Cas tried to awkwardly shake Y/N’s hand.

“It’s really good to meet you Y/N. I understand that you’re looking for some answers I may be able to provide. I hope I can be of assistance,” Cas’s voice was very deep, which surprised Y/N. She weakly smiled back at him, not entirely comfortable with the subject.

“Ah, yes. We’re gonna take a rain-check on that bud. You’re not at full strength yet and I don’t want you to derail your recovery,” Dean didn’t want to put Y/N on the spot and say she didn’t want to find out yet. The kid had been through enough.

“Dean, I’m fine,” Cas said, annoyance clear in his voice, “It barely requires me to do anything. I just need to look at her soul.”

“My soul?” Y/N squeaked, but no one heard her because Dean was suddenly almost yelling.

“Wait, wait, wait! Look at her soul? Like what you did to that boy, and to Sam when he was soulless? Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Sam was what?” her voice was even more high-pitched now but again, she was ignored.

“No Dean. I don’t need to touch her soul to recognise it. I merely need to look at it carefully, with her permission of course. I’m very familiar with your soul, I would recognise a piece of it anywhere,” Cas assured in a soothing voice. Dean was now looking away, embarrassed and Y/N wondered what was going on there. She turned to Sam – confusion clear on her face. He just shook his head, exasperated. Clearly, he had been stuck watching this dance for a long time.

“Yeah, alright. As long as there’s no soul touching involved. That isn’t pleasant from what I’ve seen. And look, there’s no rush alright? You need to rest a little more and Y/N needs some time to adjust,” Dean said much more calmly now that he knew he wouldn’t be subjecting Y/N to excruciating pain.

Cas was clearly rearing up to argue with Dean about his ability to perform the task, regardless of his recovery, when Y/N spoke from behind them.

In that split second, she decided that it was no use putting it off until later. She would either drive herself crazy or talk herself out of it entirely and run away from the only safe place she knew.

“Alright. Do it.”

Everyone stopped talking immediately, which unnerved Y/N to no end, but she steeled herself against the scrutiny. This was it. This was her choice.

“Let’s do this,” she repeated, nodding for good measure.

Dean looked at her for a good minute, then nodded to Cas, clenching his fists even as Sam moved to stand beside him and Cas came to stand in front of where Y/N was sitting.

She exhaled sharply as she felt his palm touch her forehead. It was show time.

Chapter 8

TAGS: @vicmc624​ @carisi-sonny​ @zizzlekwum​ @geekqueen5​ @mondefantastique​ @lemondropirwin​ @hamildork​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​

If anyone else would like to be tagged, please send me an ask (: Thanks for reading!

[lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean]

Doublemint

A quick, abrupt beep sound emanated twice from Sam’s watch, jarringly reminding him that his girlfriend, (Y/N), was going to be home from her jog soon. He panicked. He knew exactly how his--wonderfully--sexually adventurous girlfriend was going to react to coming home and finding two of him. He considered it--for her--but as he eyed the prissy, ponytail-sporting version of himself struggling to open a simple beer bottle, he knew there was no way.  

“Uh, Dean, could we maybe have this conversation…” He eyed the centrally located map table room dubiously, “elsewhere?” He then eyed their two, silver-spooned, man-bun and ascot wearing counterparts with the same expression and added, “before (Y/N) gets back from jogging?” 

“Why?” Dean asked, confused. Sam grimaced slightly; how to explain?

“Who’s (Y/N)?” Fancy Dean asked. 

Sam didn’t have time to figure out how to answer either question before they heard the unmistakable sound of the bunker door open and then shut.

“Shit.” Sam bristled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Oh, boy, this was going to be awkward, he just knew it.

Dean, his fancy counterpart, and Fancy Sam craned their necks to see who it was they heard entering the bunker. Dean wasn’t surprised to see it was his brother’s partner. The Stuffy Bros, however, were stunned.

It was understandable; you were stunning. Tall enough, but still dwarfed by the men in the room. Your jogging outfit consisted of a neon pink sports bra and matching leggings, both of which accentuated your naturally plump and curvy figure beautifully. A matching pink headband bordered the soft cloud of hair atop your head, which bounced ever so lightly with each step. There were headphones in your ears and a light sheen of sweat covering your skin, making it glow. 

Staring down at your phone, you carefully descended the stairs, presumably fiddling with your jogging app, which made you appear almost as though you were walking in slow motion.

“Who’s that?” Fancy Sam asked, mesmerized. 

“My partner,” Sam explained in a hushed voice, forcing himself not to look directly at you, as though the feeling of his eyes might catch your attention. 

Maybe she’ll just walk out of the room without looking up, He hoped. 

“Your dad lets you date?” Fancy Sam and Dean seemed shocked. Regular Sam and Dean shared a highly confused--and maybe a little concerned--expression.

“Dude, he’s almost 40.” Dean scolded himself. He seemed offended at the question. 

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, you casually walked through the room, heading for the hallway to the bedroom you shared with Sam. With a quick, distracted glance up from your phone, you smiled sweetly at Fancy Sam.

“Hey honey.” The haughty man blushed furiously under the gaze of your bright, happy eyes and averted his own, though yours were back down on your phone before you’d even started talking. 

Sam winced and held his breath as you kept walking. All four of them watched you with bated breath; Sam and Dean wondering if you was going to notice the difference, Fancy Sam and Dean wondering who the hell the gorgeous woman was. 

Once you'd reached the doorway, Sam almost allowed himself to relax. Then you paused. 

Still scrolling through your phone, you pulled out one of your earbuds and said, “‘Bout to take a shower, you wanna join me?” Looking away from the phone, you tossed a flirty wink at Fancy Sam. A split second later, your eyes saw that Sam was actually standing up on the other side of the table. Your brain registered him and thought you’d just accidentally asked Cas to join you in the shower, so you turned back to apologize to the man sitting in the chair. But you found Sam in the chair, not Cas. But Sam was also standing up on the other side of the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed both Deans and snapped your neck to look. 

No one moved. 

Taking slow, careful steps, you walked back into the room and around to stand at the head of the table, between Sam and Fancy Sam. Your eyes got wide, looking back and forth between all four of them slowly. 

Without looking at anyone in particular you asked, “Uh, Sam?” 

“Yes?” Fancy Sam and Sam responded at the same time. Your eyes went wider still. Sam gave his clone an exasperated look, to which he shrugged innocently. You looked them both up and down quizzically.

After a moment, you shuffled a few inches closer to the Sam who wasn't wearing a ponytail and wondered aloud, “Did something happen while I was jogging?”

“Uhhh, you could say that,” Sam nodded helplessly. He was really hoping this didn’t get awkward, though he was watching you closely and knew it was a long shot. You had noticed Fancy Sam avoiding looking at you, which allowed you to run your eyes over him slowly once more. Though it was clear that his mannerisms were very different, other than the man bun, he looked exactly the same as Sam. Your Sam. Your very, very hot, very, very sexy, and very, very amazing-in-bed Sam. 

Exactly the same. A smirk appeared on your lips. 

“(Y/N)?” Sam asked, seeing the look you were giving his snooty self.

“Wha?” You hadn't taken your eyes off Fancy Sam, whose cheeks were burning under your gaze. It made you grin. You wondered if everything was the same...

“(Y/N)!” 

“Sorry!” You turned quickly back to Sam and Dean and asked, “So uh...how did the doublemint twins show up?” Fancy Sam and Dean shared a slightly offended look. 

“God’s pissed, alternate realities are blending, it’s a whole big... thing,” Dean explained nonchalantly.

 “Oh?” You asked absentmindedly, looking back at Fancy Sam again. He’d finally been brave enough to look you in the eye and you gave him a flirty smile. “Well, hello. I’m (Y/N), Sam’s partner. Nice to meet you, both.”

Fancy Dean instantly stood up and reached across the table with an open hand. Slightly surprised, you instinctively reached back with yours to shake it. He took your hand and instead placed a soft, polite kiss on the back, “Enchante, mademoiselle. Dean. Lovely to meet you.”

You grinned and let out a nervous, girly laughter, while Sam and Dean exchanged annoyed looks. Fancy Dean let go of your hand and sat back down as you turned to Fancy Sam, who swallowed nervously. 

With an abrupt throat clearing, he announced himself formally, “Samuel Henry Johnathan Winchester. Pleased to meet you.” 

"What the fuck?" Sam muttered quietly and Dean tried hard to keep from laughing. When you took his hand, he gave you a quick, polite shake, barely meeting your eye, then let go as though your soft, silky skin burned him.

“Are you boys staying?” You asked, trying not to sound too hopeful, though Sam could read it all over your face. 

“No.” Sam and Dean echoed together sternly. 

Your neck snapped toward Sam suddenly and the two of you exchanged a few looks back and forth. 

After a glance or two at Fancy Sam, Sam reiterated a firm, “No!” 

“Oh, fine!” Your foot stomped and, with a huff, you turned quickly and headed for the doorway while angrily grumbling, “But when my double shows up and you want to do naughty things to her, my answer is going to be no, too!” 

With a sigh, he called knowingly after you, “No it won’t!”

“Damnit!” Came your frustrated reply from down the hallway.

“So, do you have a partner, too?” Fancy Dean asked Dean, scanning his eyes around the bunker with piqued curiosity.

Just then, Castiel entered from the kitchen with four beers to hand out, "What'd I miss?"

Fin.

[supernatural7543]

loki x reader pt 3

okay i may have a slight supernatural problem :D but idc because i see it as a beautiful thing.

warnings. there is blood and abuse in this as well as suicidal tendencies such as cutting. please read at your own risk.

Your POV

You woke up on loki's lap. He was reading and gently stroking your hair. You looked up at him and smiled. He saw you and smiled back. “Get me a drink?” You asked. Loki smiled and said “as you wish.”  He went and got you some water and you sat up. You looked around and saw Tony standing there mouth agape. Shit. You stood up “hey tony. How's it going?” Tony didn't say anything he just stood there glaring at you and Loki. “Tony?” You were getting more and more scared by the minute. Fortunately Steve walked in and broke the silence. “What did you do while we were gone?” He sounded angry. “W-we watched a few movies.” You were really scared. When Steve was mad it was a big deal. Tony spoke up. “Just movies?” His face was serious. “Come with me.” Loki looked at you with worry in his eyes. “It's cool I'll meet you later okay?” You told him. He nodded and you followed tony. When you were in the elevator he spoke up. “We just want to...talk, with you.”  He said ‘talk’ the same way your mom used to say it. You quickly got out of the elevators and into the conference room where the others were waiting for you. You slowly sat down seeing as there was nowhere to run. “Y/N we just wanted to see how you were.” Steve said in a calm manner. “Shut up rogers!” Tony yelled “I thought I told you to stay away from Loki! He's dangerous y/n!” Your eyes widened. You had never heard Tony yell before. “No he's not! Not to me. Maybe he's only dangerous because that's what you make him be in your heads. You're not willing to see him in another light!” You yelled back. “This is no time to be sassing me girl!” Tony yelled, raising an arm. You reflexively scrambled backwards. Steve and nat ran forward grabbing Tony's arm. You stared at him in disbelief and fear before you ran.       You got to your room and snatched up your get away bag. You always had it ready just in case but you never thought you would need it here. You put on shoes and some real clothes. You could hear the yelling below you. They were trying to find you. You hid when you heard someone run by and went quietly to the roof. You were on the helicopter pad now but you wanted to go higher. You climbed carefully up to the very top of the tower and sat there taking in the sun set. You pulled out your blanket and curled up settling in for the night. The sun woke you up. You were sort of surprised that no one had found you. You walked to the edge of the building. This was it. You were gonna jump. You had one foot off the edge when you felt an arm wrap around your waist and pull you back. You whirled around and saw loki's tear streaked face. He pulled you close “don't ever scare me like that again!” You held him and you both sat on the roof holding onto each other. “I'm sorry.” You said through sobs. “It's okay shh. Don't you worry. I will never leave your side again.” Loki replied, bringing you away from the edge.      

 After the whole tony incident you kept your distance and never went anywhere without Loki. That was a little over a week ago. That's when weird things started to happen. First a person tried to break in. Then the tower kept getting a bunch of phone calls asking about you. This was enough to put you on edge. What if your brother's life had somehow seeped into yours. You had no clue what was going on in their lives but you knew it wasn’t good. You felt sort of bad because you never told them where you were. You decided to look them up on the web. You opened your computer Sam and Dean Winchester.  You clicked on the link. It said  “After tragic events in a diner in st louis criminals Sam and Dean winchester, who were presumed dead, were apprehended and taken into custody. Two deputies soon came in and killed the Winchester brothers along with many others. The deputies were never identified nor apprehended.” The article went on but you closed your computer not willing to finish reading. Tears were running down your face. No! “ this can’t be happening.” you muttered to yourself. You stood and walked out of your room. You walked into the main room. The other avengers were there and some stood upon seeing the tears running down your face. Steve came over to you. “ Y/N? Are you okay?” you nodded “ I-I just need some fresh air. I’m-I’m going to t-take a walk.” you were clearly shaken but walked too quickly for anyone to follow and they decided that it was best for you to have a minute. You left the building and made your way towards Central Park. You walked over to a pay phone and popped some quarters in. You dialed a number and the line rang. The voice on the other line responded “Hey this is Gabriel you must have missed me please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. BEEP.”   You talked into the receiver “ hey Gabe its Y/N. please come meet me at the bench on the west side of the small pond in Central Park at 3:00. I really need to talk to you.” you placed the phone back down on the receiver and sighed. 3:00 was in about 5 minutes. You sat on the bench and stared at your watch. Did you fuck up the directions? You were starting to panic a little and placed your head in your hands. That's when you felt a warm hand on your back. “ Hey sugar, what's wrong?” Gabe asked. You leaned into him and looked into his whiskey colored eyes. “ th-they’re dead Gabe. th-they’re dead.” you mumbled as you hugged him. “What are you talking about cupcake?” he asked “ Sam and Dean” you replied “they’re dead. I saw it on the web.” Gabe chuckled “ That's what's bothering you? What? Do you believe everything you read?” you shot him a dirty look and looked back down “Hey they are fine” he lifted your head to look at him “they are just under the radar so to speak.” you breathed a sigh of relief. “ You ever need anything just… call for me by name.” he winked before vanishing. His angel tricks always scared you a little but you were glad to have such a great friend. You slowly made your way back to the tower. When you walked back in you were engulfed in a hug by steve. “ Where did you go?” he asked, “I just went to central park okay?” you replied “ I think i'm gonna go lie down for a bit.” you walked off. 

[my-proof-is-you]

The Greatest Punishment - Ch. 6

Summary: You and Dean were happy together. The only thing that really frustrated you in your life was the hatred you felt from his brother. You didn’t even know what you had done to him. You just knew that he couldn’t stand you, and the feeling was mutual.

As events unfold, will all that change? You never know what can bring people together.

“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.” -Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding and Yerma

**I do not own any gifs or pics

Masterlist  |  Tag Yourself!

Song referenced: Drink You Gone by Ingrid Michaelson

After a few more days you were finally strong enough to take care of yourself. You hadn’t really gained any weight back as you only ate little bits at a time. 

You hated to admit it, but you actually missed having Sam help you with everything. In fact, you had milked it a little longer than necessary. It was just nice to have human contact. Going those two weeks alone after Dean died had nearly killed you.

You and Sam still barely spoke, but you were spending more time together. You could tell that he was afraid that you would slip back into the deep depression and stop eating, so he always made sure to cook for both of you. 

He spent a lot of time in the gun range, presumably working through his grief. You had yet to figure out anything to help you with that. You had tried to go to the gun range, but even something as small as picking up your gun reminded you of Dean. It reminded you of the days when Dean wanted to win you over, and he would come up behind you, pretending to adjust your stance as you shot. You knew it was just an excuse to wrap his arms around you. Holding the gun now just reminded you that the space behind you was empty. 

You had a hard time understanding how Sam was functioning so well after Dean’s death. It took everything in you to even get out of bed in the morning, and yet Sam was pretty much back to his usual schedule. He had even gone on a hunt by himself. 

During one dinner, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to ask.

“How are you so okay?” You asked abruptly. 

Sam sat the burger he was holding down on the plate and stared at you with confused eyes.

“What?” He asked finally.

“How are you so okay? You’ve been taking care of me, yourself—even hunting. I just...how?” You asked, at a loss.

He shook his head slowly. “Trust me, Y/N, I’m not okay,” he responded after a few moments. “My heart is broken. Those first two weeks—when we didn’t spend any time together—I was a mess. I was almost as bad as you, except I made sure to eat and drink.”

You watched him as he explained, still trying to understand how he got from there to here.

“Then one morning I was laying in bed and I allowed myself to think about him. I had been avoiding it, because it just hurt to bad. But when I did I realized that he would have kicked my ass if he could have seen me just then.”

He stopped for a moment, taking in your confused expression.

“Y/N, Dean would have killed me if I didn’t take care of you. Hell, he’s probably...wherever he is...thinking, “finally, you fucking idiot,” now that I’ve been helping you.”

You allowed yourself to smile a little at his imitation of Dean. 

“And...I know I haven’t been the nicest to you in the past,” he began. You gave him an annoyed look. “Okay, I was a dick. But honestly, if we’re going to get through this, we need each other.”

You nodded your head slowly, still taking it all in. 

“It’s what he would want. It’s what he did want,” Sam said. 

You sighed. This was all fine and dandy, as long as Sam was nice to you. You had never even given him reason to be such a jerk before. But, he was right, and you knew it was what Dean wanted. 

“Okay,” you said, picking up your burger and taking a big bite. Sam watched you for a few moments before returning to his own. 

Wings fluttering made you look up from the book you were reading in your room to see Castiel standing near your door. 

“Hey, Cas,” you said, knowing he wasn’t bringing any good news. Of course you had asked Cas to look into wherever Dean might be after he died. He had been searching for weeks and still hadn’t figured it out. 

“Y/N,” he said with a nod. “How are you?”

“My heart feels like it was broken into a million pieces, and you?” You knew better than to waste pleasantries on Cas. He knew you weren’t okay.

“I’ve been better,” he said with a sigh. You knew that Dean’s death had taken a huge toll on Cas as well. He and Dean were almost as close and Dean and Sam were. 

“Still no sign of him,” he said after a few moments. 

“I figured,” you replied, looking back down at your book. 

“I’m sorry.” He walked toward the bed and sat down at the foot, placing his hand on your crossed legs. 

“Me too,” you said, looking up into his crystal blue eyes. Something about them put you a little more at ease. 

“Cas, what about what Billie said? Do you have any idea what she meant?” You asked.

“How it’s ‘part of a bigger plan’?” He asked, remembering what you had told him. “No. Heaven doesn’t know what she was talking about, either. They didn’t have any orders for Dean to die.”

You frowned, disappointed. You didn’t blame Cas—you knew he was trying his hardest to get information. 

“Y/N…” Cas began, hesitant. “Do you think that maybe it’s time for you to move on?”

“What?” You asked, already angry.

“I just...I don’t know that we’re going to find out what happened to Dean’s soul. Billie is an entity much more powerful than me, and unless she gives us information, there isn’t much we can do.”

You considered his words, your anger fading into sadness. You knew he was right. All of you had been trying to summon Billie and she refused to come. 

“But Cas, how could I just give up?” You asked, tears flowing down your cheeks. “You know that Dean sure as hell wouldn’t give up if the situation were reversed.” 

“I know, Y/N. But I also know that Dean would want you to be happy--want us to be happy--or at least try to find happiness.”

You sighed. It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you were miserable. It didn’t mean you had to forget Dean or stop loving him. It just meant you had to live your life. 

“I think I need to get back to hunting. Or at least get out of this bunker.”

Cas stood up. “I know you’ll be okay,” he said. “And just call or pray if you need me.”

“Thanks, Cas,” you said, standing up. You hugged him, tight. You let go and he vanished with a fluttering of wings. 

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

Sam was good with your idea to get out of the bunker. The two of you were going to a bar. You needed to unwind and get away from everything that reminded you of Dean.

You got ready to go, putting on “real” clothes for the first time in weeks. You put on your skinny jeans, wedge booties, and a flowing cold-shoulder shirt. You put on a little bit of makeup, keeping it fairly natural. You let your hair down and flowing over your shoulders.

You met Sam by the garage, and he looked you up and down. 

“You look great, Y/N,” he said with a half-smile. 

“Thanks. You look pretty good, too,” you returned. He was wearing his usual: jeans and a flannel. 

The two of you got into one of the classic cars parked in the garage. It was an unspoken rule that you wouldn’t take the Impala. 

When you arrived at the bar, you went in and Sam got you a table while you went to the bar. You knew alcohol would be needed, and not in short supply. You ordered two shots of tequila and four beers, bringing it all over to the table on a tray.

“Wow, you aren’t messing around,” Sam said when he saw it. 

“Yep. Bottoms up,” you said, holding the shot up for a cheers. You clinked glasses and downed your shots, the liquid warm in your throat. 

The two of you sat for a while just people watching. After a bit, Sam spoke.

“Hey, they have karaoke,” he said, pointing to the small stage where a middle-aged woman was singing Cher extremely off-key. “If I remember right, you have a pretty good voice.” 

You looked at the woman, considering what Sam said. You knew you’d probably make a fool of yourself, but the alcohol made you feel more confident. Plus, you loved music. It had always had a way of letting you express your emotions in a constructive way.

You shrugged. “Alright,” you said, getting up. You flipped through the song choices in the binder next to the machine, surprised by the variety you found. The song you ended up picking was fairly new.

You knew that it was a bit of a risk, but you also knew that the lyrics reflected exactly how you felt. 

You got up on the stage as the beginning chords started and closed your eyes.

You can't lie Words stay once said Hard to live, so I play dead

You kept your voice steady, focusing on the singing so you wouldn’t cry.

I can’t drink you gone

I can’t smoke you out

I can’t eat away the way that you ate my heart out

Like a sinking ship while the band plays on

When I dream, you’re there, I can’t even sleep you gone

With the next words you opened your eyes and looked at Sam, almost asking him the question you knew you were both struggling with.

How do broken hearts get strong?

Tell me, how do broken hearts get strong?

When you finished the chorus and the music continued, you looked around. The entire bar was silent, everyone watching you.

I still feel your hand in mine

Think I need much more than time

I remember when we used to say

Forever, babe

Forever, babe

As you came to the last chorus, the music slowed down again.

I can’t drink you gone

I can’t smoke you out

I can’t eat away the way that you ate my heart out

Like a sinking ship while the band plays on

When I dream, you’re there, I can’t even sleep you gone

How do broken hearts get strong?

Tell me, how do broken hearts get strong?

Oh, how do broken hearts get strong?

Tell me, how do broken hearts go on?

As the song ended, you stood for a moment in the silence before applause broke out over the bar. 

You walked back to the table and sat down. You looked up at Sam, who was staring at you. He had tears in his eyes.

“Y/N...that was...I can’t even...that was perfect.”

You let a tear escape one of your eyes as you looked at him. “Really?” You asked.

He reached over the table and wiped the tear off your cheek with the back of his index finger. “It was beautiful.”

You smiled a little. He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. As you looked at him, you knew that whatever animosity he felt toward you before was gone. You still didn’t understand why, but you didn’t question it in that moment. It was just nice to have someone there who understood what you were feeling.

Forevers:

@malfoysqueen14​ @divadinag​ @lynne1993​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @infj-slytherclaw​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @sammykb1994​ @lilulo-12​ @mellorine-paprika​ @tranquility-or-chaos​ @collette04​ @differentstudentrunaway-e70bf763 @hoboal87​ @bi-danvers0​ @miraclesoflove​ @defenderrosetyler​ @babypink224221​ @fabfan00​

[seenashwrite]

Some Dean

Word Count: 4K Category: One-shot, On-The-Hunt, Humor, Creature Feature, Behind-the-scenes Canon-Compliant, Teamwork, Friendship… and, to hell with it: Fluff Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Dean, Sam, Cas Warnings: None Anti-Warning: There’s no images or links to anything creeptastic below the cut, those of you with squicks/phobias need not worry, I’m not that big of an a-hole Author’s Note(s): *This is a re-post minus tags & links in an effort to get it to show in searches*; if you’ve no knowledge of the children’s story “Charlotte’s Web”, this may not be for you; more post-story Overall Summary: Sometimes good things come in small, albeit eight-legged, packages.

Dean had always liked spiders.

Well, “like” may’ve been overstating; Dean had always held an appreciation for spiders. They weren’t nasty like rats or sneaky like snakes, with spiders you knew where you stood: in his experience, anything supernatural aside, you leave them alone, they’ll leave you alone. Plus, they were badass - spiders packed a lot of intimidation into a small package, could be killing machines when they wanted to be, and mostly he appreciated that they were efficient and effective when it came to dealing with the annoying bugs that occasionally popped up. He did live in a basement, after all; the world’s tiniest were not deterred by any amount of warding or weaponry.

So when he’d notice small, barely-there wisps of webs in far corners or between the bottom of a bookshelf and the wall, stretching from the carved wood to the sticky bricks, he’d leave the homemade traps be for a week or two if they were empty, and sure enough, they’d have captured some crawlers next time he made a run-through with the vacuum. It was an amicable relationship - Dean never saw the spiders, just their handiwork, and the webs seldom popped up in the same space twice. Plus, they seemed to know the kitchen was a no-fly… spider… zone, so all was well.

And then came Charlotte.

Charlotte - as Dean had eventually started calling the garden spider, much to Sam’s dismay - did not have any regard for the out-of-sight, you-don’t-get-the-boot arrangement, nor did she have any regard for giving Dean his space. The day they met, he’d sauntered into the garage, popped the Impala’s trunk, tossed in a bag and a shotgun, yelled at Sam to hurry up, then went to reach for the driver’s side handle, caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and froze. And he wasn’t the only one.

The web was thick at the edges and delicate in the middle, stretching from the side mirror to the handle, upon which Charlotte perched, her crafting put on hold. She wasn’t terribly small, but not remotely large; she would’ve easily fit on the pad of his thumb. And she was clearly of the brave - or stupid, perhaps - sort, because she didn’t immediately scurry off. She took in the sight of the giant creature before her - technically, there was eight of him, what with her four pairs of eyes and all - and she opted to see what would happen.

What happened was that Dean turned, grabbed a shop rag, and began cursing under his breath as he whipped the web into nothingness; by the time he stopped, Charlotte had skittered to places unknown.

Dean tossed the rag away, gave the handle a good eyeballing before he grabbed it, opening the door and saying in a low voice through grit teeth, “Not. The. Car.”

“What not the car?” asked Sam, bounding up the garage steps.

“Nothing,” Dean replied.

This nothing continued for six weeks.

Charlotte was a determined artist, it seemed, not to mention a fast one. She spun webs of all sizes and shapes, covering the license plate in quilt-panel squares, weaving long, ropy trails around and between the wipers, and at one point obscured the back window in a lacy pattern that Castiel noted looked like a fine guipure. She liked to travel, too, as more than once the brothers would exit a given roadside motel room to find Charlotte had been busy during the night, Sam’s personal favorite being when she’d decorated a hubcap in a complex Fibonacci design, though he’d never have let on to Dean.

On the initial occasions following such a discovery, if Dean happened to spot her, he would scold her with a sharp “NO!”, walk in her direction briskly, and she’d retreat, slipping into the trunk or under the hood, but it wasn’t long before she’d stay put, even edge closer, cutting the distance between them, eventually so bold as to crawl onto the roof of the Impala, watching as he dismantled her webs.

“Really?” he asked one morning after the latest wipe-down, bending slightly so they were eye-to-eyes.

She calmly extended one leg to the side, held it out til he got the hint, turning his head, following what he’d presumed was a point, and sure enough, he’d missed some cottony puffs that were still stuck on a tail light.

Looking back at her, he said - begrudgingly -  "Thanks.“

Dean had dealt with stranger things.

"One day I’m expecting to come out and see ‘terrific’ in a web,” Sam commented during a return trip from the latest hunt.

“What?” Dean asked.

“You know - the kid’s book. Charlotte’s Web. You read it to me when we were little. About the farm, and saving Wilbur the would-be bacon?”

“Charlotte’s anti-bacon?”

“No, I don’t think— it was— it— she was just pro-pig.”

It was after this conversation that Dean took to calling their frequent tag-a-long Charlotte. To be specific, it was after he’d brought a BLT with him into the garage while working on the car, and she’d happily investigated a bit of bacon that had escaped his plate. A point to the pro-bacon column, he thought.

Dean informed her that he was fine with her hanging around, he was even fine with her fancy webwork, but she needed to cool it when it came to the car, explaining with lots of gesturing to make sure the message got across, just in case. He’d looked it up. Spiders did not have ears.

He’d also looked up things on spider life spans, and arachnid health in general. Sam found him in the library one evening doing just that, frowning at his laptop screen as he scanned. Castiel was nearby, returning some books to their places on the shelves.

“What is he doing?” Sam asked in a hushed voice, and Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but Dean spoke, diverting their attention.

“Did Charlotte look pale to you earlier?”

Now Sam frowned. “Dean… what?”

“I mean, she’s light brown, but she looked a little yellow earlier,” Dean explained, scrolling further down a page, but then closing the window with a huff and turning in his seat to face Sam. “Can’t find anything.” A pause; a thought. “Hey, I should put out a devil’s trap drawing for her, maybe a new pattern’ll perk her up.”

Sam was, in a word, startled. “Do you think of her as a pet?”

“Why do you care?”

“Oh, I dunno - because a spider is stalking us, and you’ve named it, and you talk to it, and—-”

“What, you got a thing about spiders to go with your thing about clowns, even though your imaginary friend was a clown?” Another pause. “Come to think of it, that explains a lot.”

“Sully’s not a clown, and no, I do not have arachnophobia, what I do have is a worry that - if it is a female - it may lay a bunch of eggs, then we’ll have an infestation. Is that what you want? Bunch of spider babies in your Baby?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “She’s not gonna do that.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Did she pinky swear?”

“Would you like me to have a look at her?” asked Castiel, and the concern in his voice was less for Charlotte and more for Dean, and less in the sympathetic way and more in the tiptoeing around someone who’s slipped into psychosis way.

Sam crossed his arms. “Taking it outside hasn’t worked, neither has trying to leave it wherever we’ve been hunting - this is getting ridiculous, will you just kill it, already?!”

Dean stood, walked over to him, defiant. “We not been doing enough killing for you lately?”

“It’s just a spider, Dean!”

“I know that! Maybe I just don’t wanna be scraping moist spider guts off my boot.”

“Does this spider communicate with you?” Castiel asked, the concern still floating under his words.

He was ignored.

“It’s not your pet, it’s a tiny insect - you don’t even know if it could be poisonous!” Sam exclaimed.

“Not an insect, genius, and Charlotte would never bite us—-”

“What is wrong with you?!”

“Have either of you considered the possibility that this is no ordinary spider?” Castiel suggested.

“Gee, thanks, Cas - no, hadn’t noticed that this is weird,” Dean shot back with a look.

“So you get that this is weird?” Sam checked.

“Our life is weird, what’s some more? And at least this is fun weird, is that so bad?” Dean replied, and the touch of melancholy in his voice caused both Sam and Castiel to stay quiet for a few moments.

The silence was broken by the ring of Dean’s phone - a case awaited them.

And, of course, Charlotte.

Dean looked up from the map as Sam came back into their motel room, six pack in one hand, phone in the other, kicking the door shut as he spoke.

“Jane called. She says a container ship from the UK was bringing in illegal cargo, for some rich people who wanted exotic animals for canned hunts—”

“Douche move.”

“—and apparently when they went to unload, the crates were all busted up. The hold was covered with what was left of the bodies of the animals. All except for one. Three guesses.”

“Big bad bacon?”

“Yup. And she thinks we’re looking at… ah….” Sam trailed off and chuckled.

“Yeah?”

“A cryptid. It’s called The Beast of Dean, a.k.a. the Moose Pig.”

“Why do I think that somewhere, somehow, whatever’s left of Crowley just got a chub.”

They were in a rural area of Virginia, not too far from Portsmouth, and had been for a week, tracking what sounded like a rabid boar, but there was enough of a bump-in-the-night bend to the word on the street that they’d been confident it fell in their wheelhouse. Now that they had confirmation, after a night of research and weapon prep, they were ready to knock out the most recent mission and get back home. The Dean-Moose was large, and it was anything but subtle. The hunt should be an easy one, wouldn’t take long, nothing to it.

Well. One thing. One sort-of big thing. Even though it was also a small thing. Sam’s pro-pig storybook spider and their companion, they’d come to find, had more in common than just a name.

.

STOP

.

There, stretched across the Impala’s grill the next morning, was an undeniable message, and given Dean’s jaw-dropped state, it prompted Sam to speak on his behalf.

“Um, Charlotte? Listen, I don’t know if you… you seem nice, and… really smart, but… look, this thing isn’t like that pig in the book.”

“Because she’s read the book,” Dean said sarcastically, breaking out of his stupor and stomping over to the car, sharp eyes looking for the sassy spider; no joy. “Hey, guess what?” he said loudly. “I’m gonna drive so fast that by the time I do stop, your web’s gonna get shredded, how do you like that? I told you my car was OFF LIMITS!”

With one last glare at the web, Dean got into the car, and Sam followed suit. They put on the radio and chatted about anything but spiders and pigs for the better part of an hour as they bumped along the winding back roads. And after parking at the edge of the woods where the most recent sighting of the beastly hog had occurred, they opened the trunk to find another message, one that unfurled neatly, springing open as the lid of the weapons compartment lifted.

.

REALLY! STOP, STUPID.

.

Punctuation, and all.

“You know…” Dean began, but trailed off with a shake of his head, snatching up the shotgun and pocketing a handful of the shells with the special filling he and Sam had cooked up the night prior.

Sam removed the freshly-etched-with-symbols machete. Dean slammed the trunk shut. Charlotte did not emerge.

As they walked deeper and deeper into the woods, Sam spoke in a quiet voice.

“When we get back, I’m calling Cas. This is out of control, Dean. The spider’s obviously somebody - or something - dicking around with us. Maybe that’s been the plan, keeping us from killing this thing.”

Dean didn’t look at him, rather kept scanning their surroundings as he responded. “Maybe. She… it… came around before that ship got here. But, yeah. Maybe something’s up.”

Sam reflexively sighed in relief, and at that moment Dean stopped, extended his arm to stop Sam’s progress, as well.

“Shhh. Listen.”

The growl was only audible for a moment before the foliage began to stir.

The hunt, it turned out, did not last long. The defeated brothers wearily tossed their dented weapons into the backseat and practically fell into the front. Dean immediately turned off the radio - the chanting of Duran Duran’s “Wild Boys” had come screaming through the speakers.

“It does kinda sound like they’re saying 'wild boars’,” Sam noted.

“Shut up.”

After they’d returned to the motel and showered, cleaned up their scratches and cuts, swapped torn clothing for intact, Sam went back to researching, while Dean went out to the Impala, damp washcloths in hand, and opened the trunk. It was barely even six o'clock, and there was still enough sunlight that he could see every trace of the webbing was gone. But he wanted to check that his little - former - friend hadn’t done anything else.

She had.

Sitting in the driver’s set, Dean’s eye was drawn to the thin, nearly opaque message across the radio, anchored by the knobs and an ejected tape.

.

BAD JOB

.

Dean swiped it away without a word, uttering a small groan and clutching his bruised ribs as he climbed out. He took a few steps, but then pivoted. He opened the door again and leaned in, voice tense as he spoke.

“Tell you what, how’s about I bring you some toothpicks and you join in tomorrow, help us out, get in a few stabs? Be useful, show us how it’s done?”

Dean fell asleep wondering if he’d completely lost his mind.

.

THIS IS DUMB .

Sam ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes - he’d been out the door first, so the newest message, covering the entirety of the hood, immediately made him brace himself for what was coming next.

But, surprisingly, Dean kept his temper in check; he merely set down his bag, returned to the room for a towel, and briskly wiped down the hood.

“Ready?” he asked Sam, forcing a smile that was likely more unsettling than intended.

Sam kept quiet, answering with a thumbs-up.

Their Everything’s Fine! charade was short-lived.

As with the prior morning, Charlotte had chosen to reinforce her message, wrapping the steering wheel so thickly it was barely visible, and her stance on their mission came through loud and clear.

.

THIS IS ACTUALLY DUMB .

Sam thought the choice of having the final “dumb” in bold italic for emphasis was a nice touch. And he noted the copious amount of webbing wound around the gear shift with raised eyebrows. And he gulped when he spotted more strands of said webbing emerging from the ignition. He cut his eyes over to Dean and, upon seeing his expression, took a step back.

This time, Charlotte did not hide. She’d positioned herself on the dashboard, right near the puffed-up wheel, standing with what could be described as quite the petulant posture. And much like the day the spider and the hunter had met, Dean froze.

Charlotte held her ground.

Dean’s nostrils flared.

Charlotte crossed her front legs as if they were arms.

Dean’s jaw clenched.

Charlotte tapped a back leg, as if to say Well get on with it.

Dean was still unmoved, and so Sam said, “You know, when you freeze like that, it’s really not as intimidating as you might—-”

“CHARLOTTE!” Dean bellowed.

She turned and sashayed to the glove box, crawling inside without the first indication she felt in any danger whatsoever.

Thankfully, the motel was just shy of a mile from from a modest gas station-diner combo. Sam talked Dean into a breakfast - with extra bacon, a thumb of the nose to both the beast and its defender. After they easily convinced the owner to loan them his truck, explaining their car’s fuel gauge was apparently broken, buying a can of gas for show, they promised they’d have it returned to him by morning.

As they drove back to grab their gear, Dean asked, “You hear from Cas?”

Sam nodded. “Reception’s crap, though - I can only hear parts of his voicemail. He found something about Charlotte, at least, I think. But he didn’t sound upset, like she was dangerous.”

“Let’s just roast the pig and get the hell outta here.”

“I’m sorry she’s not… you know, fun-weird anymore,” Sam said.

Dean lowered his foot, gunning the engine. “Yeah, well. Story of my life,” he muttered.

The truck was returned way before morning, this encounter with their newest foe having gone as well as the first. Then they found that Charlotte had removed all the web from the Impala, though the door to the motel room held some snark:

.

NICE HEAD

.

Dean barely glanced at it - possibly a little hard to do with the near swollen-shut, a breath away from blackened eye - and didn’t even bother to clean it off. There was no message from Charlotte the next morning. Dean did bother to wonder if she was gone.

The sound of the tree cracking sent both of them diving behind a small knoll, gasping for breath, cringing as it crashed down just where they’d been not seconds earlier.

“I’m empty,” Dean said, returning his gun to his waistband. “You?”

“About ten minutes ago,” Sam answered.

The beast’s growls now turned into a piercing scream, a most furious howl, angry it couldn’t find them. They heard it turning up earth with its tusks, sending rocks flying, then ramming its head into yet another tree, the trunk buckling under the strain. Dean had managed to send a bullet into its snout, likely preventing it from sniffing them out, if the occasional gurgling snorts were any indication. Sam had earned himself a minor goring to his calf, but otherwise they were intact.

“Think you can run?” Dean asked, gesturing to the bandanna-wrapped wound.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I think so. That the plan? Just make a run for it?”

“You got any better ideas?”

“On three?”

“One… two…. three!”

They dodged trees, though the beast didn’t bother, taking out the smaller ones along the way, picking up speed with every moment that passed, while the brothers were losing speed at the same time.

Dean noticed a large branch in their path up ahead and started to veer off from Sam, pointing to it and yelling, “Keep going! I’ll try to knock Porky out!”

“No!” Sam yelled back, grimacing each time his leg made contact with the ground. “It’ll kill—- HUUUURMMPPHH!”

Sam went down, Dean not far behind, something tripping both of them, causing them to fall with such force that whatever air they had left in their lungs got knocked out. Disoriented, they raised their heads only to immediately duck them, covering up with their arms, as the beast was still plowing ahead. Its hooves hit the ground in between them, tossing dirt everywhere, its speed too far gone for it to stop on a dime. They expected to soon hear it reversing course, so Sam opened his eyes, trying to spot a place to hide, Dean doing the same, trying to spot the branch.

Instead, the sound of the most meek squeal one could imagine reached their ears, prompting Dean and Sam to turn their gazes directly ahead.

They were at the bottom of a small incline, and they watched as the boar’s head rolled their way, their heads slowly turning as they observed it leisurely passing by. It came to a sudden stop against something near their feet. They shared a look, moving in sync onto their knees.

“Uh, Dean?” Sam said.

Dean looked up from inspecting the severed head to find Sam with his hand extended, pushing under something that Dean couldn’t make out, but a shift in position and a tilt of his head allowed him to see the bright moonlight glint off the surprisingly thick, iridescent rope running across Sam’s fingers.

Another look, another in sync movement as they stood, then tentatively walked forward til they reached the body. This time, Dean spotted it right away when he crouched, the finely-wound strands that were stretched between two trees, at just the perfect height to relieve a squatty hog monster of its head. He flicked it with a finger, as one would a string on a guitar, and it was just as taut.

“She clotheslined it,” Sam said, awestruck. “She tripped us so we wouldn’t… That could’ve clipped us at the knees. She… she…”

Dean looked up at Sam, and a slow smile spread across his face. "She’s awesome!”

Sam shifted his weight off of his bad leg, and grinned. “Think she’s any good with stitches?”

How Charlotte managed to spin their salvation in such little time, they’d never know, and they also had no idea how she beat them back to the car, but the evidence was there, across the driver’s side window. .

SOME PIG .

They laughed, Dean saying, “You ain’t lying.”

But before he could say anything else, Charlotte crawled out from under the handle. She scurried up her web, and as they watched, she whipped the “P” into a “D”; the “I” went “E” in a few short passes; the “G” was partially dismantled, then spun into an “A”; and in mere seconds, there appeared an “N”. .

SOME DEAN .

After a quick hop from its tip, a slide to the outside of one of the long connecting end pieces, and a drop of a new line of silk, their eyes followed her as she leapt, letting the momentum swing her clean up onto the roof. And then - Sam would swear to it, many times over the coming years - she curtsied.

“Thanks,” Dean said softly. “You, too.” With that, he opened the back door, gestured for her to climb inside.

Which, she did.

“Yes… yes… that’s very kind of you.”

Dean, Sam, and Castiel were standing outside the bunker, the former waiting patiently - and occasionally impatiently - as the latter had a conversation with Charlotte.

Castiel looked to them. “She says she likes my tie. The material meets her standards.”

Dean’s expression was completely flat, causing Sam to snicker.

“There any reason you didn’t tell us you could’ve been talking to her this whole time?” Dean demanded.

Castiel shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

It turned out that Castiel’s message had been to inform them that Charlotte was indeed a most special spider, more so than what they’d already divined. She was an emissary, an information-gatherer, a spy of sorts, though not a nefarious one. And because she herself was quite the accomplished hunter, she chose to spend time with other hunters whenever her journeys brought her to them.

And now, it was time for Charlotte to start her next journey.

Castiel was nodding his head as Charlotte, who was on his collar, near his ear, told him one last thing. “She’d like you to know that Sam was correct - she does need to prepare to lay her eggs, though she would not have done so in the car,” Castiel related.

Dean shot Sam a smug look.

“And she says she’ll name them Dean.”

Dean blinked. “All of them?”

“Yes.”

“How many we talking?”

A pause as Charlotte answered, and Castiel replied, “Anywhere from fifty to sixty.”

“That’s… a lot,” Dean said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Not really,” Sam commented.

Another look from Dean - actually, he cycled through several.

“Fine. So maybe I did some research, too,” Sam admitted.

“It’s time for her to go,” Castiel announced. “She says she’s enjoyed your company immensely. And she apologizes for the web you’ve yet to find. It seems she was in a cranky mood that evening.”

“That’s okay. Tell her it’s okay,” Dean said, walking closer. “Tell her that, um… it’s been great knowing her. Don’t be a stranger. All that.”

Castiel smiled. “She knows.” He raised his hand to his shoulder, and Charlotte climbed onto it. “I’m going to give her a boost,” he explained, and then to Charlotte he said, “Please do give Mr. Anansi the Winchester brothers’ warmest regards.”

They watched as Charlotte prepped a silk balloon, and after a gentle wave of Castiel’s hand, off she flew.  

“It would be… cheesy of me to comment it is angelic, their flight, wouldn’t it?” Castiel asked.

“Yes,” Dean and Sam answered in unison.

They began to walk back inside.

“What was that at the end? About Anansi?” asked Sam.

“Networking,” Castiel replied.

“I wouldn’t worry about us ever having to tangle with him,” Dean said. “I mean, not with Charlotte on our side. She’ll talk us up. She’s a talker.”

“Plus, there’ll be all the Deans,” Sam added.

“Yup. Exactly. We are cool with the spider kingdom,” said Dean, and with great confidence.

Dean was incorrect on this point, as he and Sam would later learn, during a case involving a young lady by the name of Muffet.

But that’s another story.

Want more stories? My Master Post is linked in my profile, and it tells you about getting on the Tag List, too! If for whatever reason it gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to send an Ask and I’ll link you.

Re-blogs and feedback are fuel for a writer’s soul - please do let me know if you enjoyed. 😘

Author’s Note #2 - The Jane mentioned is a character from my story Supernatural: Revelation, which you can find linked on the master post -or- just go straight to AO3, same author name SeeNashWrite 😁

Author’s Note #3 -  This also included a prompt which had languished in drafts - albeit with the note “Anansi” from the get-go, thankyouverymuch! - which was from the cringeworthy submissions:

You can find all the #Nash300 Follower Celebration Master List of Madness stories (wherein I asked followers to send me prompts consisting of three words to make me cringe) via the Master Post.

Author’s Note #4: The beast of Dean mentioned is actually a thing, give it a google! And so is Anansi, check that out, too. If you don’t get the Muffet reference, well, I can’t help you with that. 😉

[huntertales]

Let’s Write a Different Ending: Chapter Six.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Prophet!Reader

Word Count: 4,891. // Episode Setting: Sympathy for the Devil

Summary: What if the “Supernatural” book series wasn’t written by Chuck Shurley? Instead, by a young woman named Y/N Y/L/N? She finds herself living out her most recent story—about the end of the world, an archangel whose sworn to protect her is moonlighting as a trickster and two fictional characters by the name of Sam and Dean are about to drag her straight into it. (Semi-rewrite from episode 4.18 “The Monster at the End of This Book” to—?)

Previous Part | Full Masterlist

Every writer, no matter how big or small in popularity, had their dedicated fanbase. It seemed your kind of fans ranged from those who enjoyed the first book and stuck around to read the rest until its end, to those who made it an underground cult classic. They loved everything about the "Supernatural" universe beyond the text. You were known to skim through a few of yourself when you were a bit bored and decided to search up fansites to see how people were liking the books and their theories about what was to come. Most of the stories you came across were harmless and even written so well that at times you felt like you were being put to shame from how talented they were. They made up different hunts for the boys to partake in with familiar monsters. And then there were the...not so innocent ones you accidentally stumbled on. Stories that made you internally cringe. But, hey. To each their own.

You might not be popular as some people like Stephen King and J.K. Rowling, but you had a fanbase that loved your work...back when you thought it was fiction. While you saw people embrace the books in their own special way, there was one person that rose above them all. Who declared herself as your number one fan: Becky Rosen. She was a sweet girl who spent her free time writing letters to you while you were still publishing books under the name she presumed was real. And belonging to a man. At first, the letters started off like the typical other ones you got from other fans who told you about how they loved the books and the characters. She told you about how Sam was her absolute favorite and how much she liked the books, things you heard before. Then the letters starts to get...weird.

Becky claimed herself to be your number one fan; she knew everything about the books. Every little detail. She sent you gifts, more letters, fan fiction, and even home baked goods. That you honestly quite enjoyed. Mch as people would claim her to be weird and crazy, you thought she was just a very, very enthusiastic person. And it seemed her obsession with the books was about to pay off, because she might have been your only hope.

You kept all of your letters from fans in a spot in your office, you found Becky's near the bottom, all rubber banded together. You faintly remembered her last letter after "No Rest for the Wicked" was published how much she was going to miss the books. She included all of her contact information if "Carver" ever wanted to personally chat with her. Just in case he wanted to start up the books again  and he needed someone to bounce off ideas with. She admitted that she was heartbroken to see the books come to an end, they were an escape from reality. The real world was such a boring place. She'd do anything to live in the fictional world with Sam and Dean. Oh, Becky. You were about to make her dreams come true.

You nervously sat in your office chair and waited as the video call to Becky Rosen continued on ringing and ringing, making your even more frayed nerves feel like you were about to have an anxiety attack. You felt a little bad for using your pen name to get in contact with her, but as the final ring echoed through your ears, you’d deal with the awkwardness. You let out a sigh of relief when she accepted your video call. A few seconds later your laptop screen showed a woman who looked to be about your age, and with a slightly skeptical look on her face. It quickly changed into hostility when she saw someone she wasn't expecting. Becky clearly didn't picture Carver Edlund to be twenty-two from the "About the Author" paragraph in the last page of every "Supernatural" book. Let alone a woman.

Becky Rosen, your supposed number-one fan, greeted you with a frown and a slightly annoyed tone of voice at who was staring back at her. “You’re not Carver Edlund.”

“No, I’m not. Well...yes, I am. But, not really. You see, uh, Carver Edlund isn't a real person. It's a pen name. My real name is Y/N Y/L/N." You found the words that you rehearsed in your head come out in a stumbling mess, making you feel even more nervous. You gave her a smile, the best one that you could give at this very moment, hoping it would be enough to buy you some time before she hung up on you. "I’m the writer of your favorite 'Supernatural' books, Becky."

"What?” Becky was taken aback from the information she didn't even know how to respond to right away. She knew her favorite author was a very private person, but to know the person she had wrote letters to for the past four years, was someone else made her slightly flustered. "But, I thought—"

"A man? Yeah, no. I'm the real author of the books. All of the work is mine own. I'm the creator. And before you ask, I wrote them when I was younger I used a pen name for privacy and for a chance to get published.” You explained to her, getting any sort of information out of the way that would lead to questions you didn’t have time to answer. With that all out of the way, you let out a breath, composing yourself again to give her a real smile. "So...Hi, Becky. Nice to finally meet you.”

"Oh...my...God. Oh my—" Becky couldn't form a complete sentence from the excitement she was feeling. The biggest grin you might have ever saw in your life began to spread across her lips at what was happening. You forced yourself to return the friendly gesture as you looked over your shoulder to see if there was anyone there when you heard Winchester shift around slightly, his dog tags jingling against each other. When you turned to look back at the screen, Becky's happiness had faded. She was now staring back at you with the same hesitant look. As if you were putting in all of this effort to make her look foolish. "Hey, this isn't some kind of joke, is it?"

"What? No. I'm the real author. See? All of these are my unpublished work. Stories that have never seen the light of day or another pair of eyes besides my own. And these?" You proved yourself to be the real author of her favorite books when you shifted around slightly in your seat to show her your bookshelf full of manuscripts. And if that was enough, you lifted up the stack of handwritten letters she had personally sent to you. "All of your letters are yours. I saved them. Hell, I'll read you one if you don't believe me. This is not a joke. I swear."

"You kept my letters? Oh my God! So you must have gotten my marzipan, too." Becky said. You rubbed your stomach and forced a smile at her to show your appreciation. All though you quite enjoyed the home baked goods, you didn't have time to ask for the recipe. You opened your mouth to tell her why you were really getting in contact with her, but she quickly cut you off to tell you something you knew very well. “I’m your number-one fan. You know, I’m samlicker81.”

You found yourself taken off guard from what Becky just let slip out of her mouth. You blinked as you tried to comprehend what words she formed together, but your brain failed to comprehend. "I'm sorry." You blinked as you looked at her with a confused expression. "You're what?"

"Webmistress at morethanbrothers dot net?" Becky asked. You refrained yourself from giving her a disturbed look when you figured out what she meant. "Your work really inspired me to dabble in my own literature. But enough about me. I've got a million questions to ask! Like, how do you come up with all of your ideas? Are you ever gonna publish more books? Would you consider yourself more of a Sam girl? Or more of a Dean girl? I'm a Sam girl myself. Hence the username...Awww! And who is this cutie?"

Without any proper warning, you felt ninety pounds launch into your lap when Winchester took it upon himself to figure out who you were talking to. He jumped on his back legs and rested his front side on your lap. He was now in the frame with you, staring at Becky with a tilted head. You let out a sigh as you rubbed the top of Winchester's head that he loved so much.

"Uh, dreams mostly. Sometimes the idea hits met out of nowhere. I don't know. And this is Win." You tried to gather your thoughts as you quickly answered her questions before you could get to the reason why you were contacting her in the first place. “Look, I’m calling you not only because you’re my number-one fan. You're kind of the only one who will believe me."

Every little creek and floorboard squeak made you lose your concentration from the conversation you were having. You nervously looked around the room, wondering if you were going to find an unexpected guest ready to stop you from what you were about to do. Your odd behavior didn't go unnoticed by Becky.  "Are you all right?"

"Uh, well, I've had better days. I'm pretty sure I'm being watched." You admitted. You cautiously eyed your surroundings one more time before you fell silent for a moment, waiting to hear any sort of sound of existence beside your own. Yet again, you were reassured that you were alone. "Not right now. I don't think so. But I don't have much time. I need your help."

Becky's eyes grew wide with excitement, "You need my help?"

“That’s right. I need you to get a message to Sam and Dean.” You instructed her. “Okay?”

The grin on Becky’s face disappeared quickly as it came from what you were asking her to do. "Look, Miss. Y/L/N...Yes, I'm a fan, but I really don't appreciate being mocked. I know that ‘Supernatural’ is just a book, okay?" Becky said. You rolled your eyes in frustration when she went on thinking you were wasting your precious time trying to pull a prank on her. "I know the difference between fantasy and reality."

"Becky, listen to me very carefully. I'm not about to repeat myself. All of it is real. Everything that I have freaking written is real. I have met Sam and Dean in real life. My dog? Win? Yeah, that's just a nickname. His full name is Winchester. I named my dog after their last name. Which was never included in the books. If that isn't real enough for you, I don't know what is." You told her everything you had been keeping to yourself since you found out. You’d been living through this nightmare with nobody else knowing. And now she did. You felt relief, like you were finally letting out a breath you had been forced to keep. "Oh my God. Do you know how good that feels to get that off my chest?"

"I knew it! I knew all of it was real! Oh, Miss. Y/L/N, I feel so honored you chose me for such a difficult task." Becky said. You smiled slightly at her enthusiasm, not having the heart to tell her you didn’t have much of a choice but to trust her. “I won’t let you down.”

"Yeah, well, no pressure but the fate of the world kind of depends on you giving them this information." You muttered underneath your breath. Becky luckily didn't hear you. "Okay. Grab a pen and listen to me very carefully. This is what you need to tell Sam and Dean. Word by word."

+ + +

While you were stuck in your house nervously pacing around and trying your hardest not to bite your nails off, Becky was given the sole responsibility of giving the boys ten words you forced her to memorize. If she didn't get this right who knows what kind of trouble this meant. You wanted to tell the boys yourself, but it was too risky with everything going on. So you had to pull some extra help. Hopefully Becky could prove herself to be the number one fan she declared herself to be. You’d eventually find out if everything went belly up. You did your part.

While you crawled into bed to get some rest after a very stressful few days, Becky proved herself to be a reliable source. She safely tracked down the motel the boys had been staying at to stay low from angels and demons that were most likely scheming some big plan, whatever that was. The boys had been doing their own thing, Dean watching TV checking out news reports while Sam occupied himself by reading his father's journal to see if there might be a way to fix all of this. A knock on the door broke them out of their concentration, sending them straight into hunter mode from the unexpected guest they weren't expecting. Sam pushed himself up to his feet as Dean grabbed his loaded gun right by his side.

The younger Winchester cautiously approached the door as he bent down slightly to stare out of the peephole to see who was standing out in the hall. He noticed that it was a young woman he never seen before. Sam decided to answer the door anyway. He peered out slightly and stared down at the stranger, wondering who she was. But it seemed from the sudden awestruck look that crossed her face as she let in a dramatic gasp that she was surprised to see him. Sam gave her a slightly concerned expression, wondering what her problem was.

“You okay, lady?” Sam asked.

“Sam...is that really you?” The stranger somehow knew his name as she asked in a hopeful tone of voice. Sam furrowed his brow slightly as he took his gaze off her for just a split second. However the woman took it upon herself to step forward and place a hand on his chest without his permission. She let out a laugh as she continued to feel him up. "And you’re so firm.”

“Uh,” Sam had so many questions to ask her of what the hell was going on. “Do I know you?”

“No. But I know you. You’re Sam Winchester. And you’re....not what I pictured.” The woman said as she looked over at his older brother, her face scrunching up slightly from the very different idea she had on him while reading the books. She took it upon herself to walk past Sam and into their motel room, introducing herself. “I’m Becky. I read all about you guys. And I’ve even written a few—” She let out a nervous giggle, deciding not to admit to her fanfiction that might not leave the best impression on her favorite brothers. “Anyway...Miss. Y/L/N told me where you were.”

“You mean Y/N?” Dean asked the woman, wondering if that was who she meant.  Sam shut the door to give the three of them some privacy to see what this was all about.

“She’s got a message, but she’s being watched. Angels. Nice change-up to the mythology, by the way.” Becky said. Dean crossed his arms over his chest, trying his hardest not to tell this woman the way it was. “The demon stuff was getting kind of old.”’

“Right.” Sam brushed off the woman’s opinion as he got to the reason why she was here in the first place. “Just, um...what’s the message?”

“She had a vision.” Becky said. She closed her eyes and repeated every single world you forced her to memorize. “‘The Michael sword is on earth. The angels lost it.’”

“Becky,” Sam felt himself becoming intrigued to what she had to say. This might be the big break they needed to find in order to solve this problem before it got worse. "Does Y/N know where it is?"

“In a castle, on a hill made of forty-two dogs.” Becky said.

The last bit of information sounded like some sort of cryptic message that didn't help them at all. Sam wondered if Becky might have accidentally jumbled up the information. "Are...are sure you got that right?"

“It doesn’t make sense, but that’s what she said. I memorized every word...for you.” Becky said. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she approached the younger man with a look in her eye that was starting to make Sam feel uneasy. And she didn’t exactly help the feeling when she took it upon herself to place her hand on his chest once more. “Oh, she’s so lucky to have met you...and to have written about you in the way that she did if you know what I mean—”

"Um...Becky," Sam wasn't sure what the right kind of response was to get her off of him before this could keep going on. Becky seemed to be enjoying herself too much to stop now, feeling the muscles and body she read about. "Can you...quit touching me?"

Becky responded with a no. She continued for another few seconds before Sam had enough of it. He gave the woman a polite goodbye before shoving her out the door, making sure to lock it before she could sneak her way back in. Sam let out a sigh from all the crazy going on. He really hoped this little riddle you gave them, sent by possibly the creepiest woman he ever met, was worth it. The Devil was free, all because of him and the poor choices he made in the past. Sam needed some kind of win to help put things back to the way it was.

+ + +

You were confident with the idea that you were at least one step ahead of the enemy. Hell, you were racing towards the finish line while the enemy was scrambling to get back down to earth. You knew your tip to the boys wasn't exactly helpful. It was more of a riddle than anything else that even you were still trying to decipher. You were confident they would figure it out in time and get to this supposed sword of Michael. Meanwhile, you kept yourself busy by getting your life back together. Starting with your poor kitchen, the room sure had seen its better days.

The kitchen floor was littered with broken dishes and splinters from broken pieces of your table, making it impossible to walk on without shoes. Winchester felt a little out of sorts when you fed him dinner in the living room. You really didn't want to take him to the vets and explain how your German Shepard got a piece of china stuck in his paw. Some of the walls were splattered with what you could only guess was blood. It looked horrifying. You were heartbroken and a little nauseous at the unexpected fight you were dragged into that ended with dire consequences.  You had family heirlooms that were passed down from past generations and a dining room table that cost you a pretty penny. But they were just things. The real tragedy of what happened to poor Cas.

You still had things in your house that belonged to your family and you could easily buy yourself a new table. There was nothing some bleach and a new coat of paint couldn't fix. You got down to business, distracting yourself with the mundane task of sweeping and scrubbing the walls to the best of your ability. Soon you found yourself almost forgetting about the events that unfolded over the past few days. Maybe it was the bleach fumes mixed in with the music that you had been listening to that was making you feel a little more at ease. You managed to clean your entire floor of any spec of glass, making it safe enough for you and Winchester to walk on once more. You even swept up some more teeth without gagging.

You were scrubbing the last of the blood you found off the walls when you heard your phone ringing, pulling you out of your cleaning streak. You quickly paused your music and grabbed the phone before it could go to voicemail, all while trying your hardest not to sound breathless when you answered. The voice on the other end was one you weren't expecting to hear from so soon, it was Sam. You felt your lips stretch into a small smile, hopeful that it was good news.

"Hey. I wasn't sure if calling you was a good idea, considering everything that's been going on. I hope you guys got my little riddle. Which means you got to meet Becky." You found yourself rambling on slightly, getting ahead of yourself of why the man was calling you in the first place. You leaned yourself against the counter and waited for Sam to respond. When you heard the other line grow eerily silent, you felt yourself becoming nervous. "Sam? You still there?"

"Yeah...I am." Sam said. You could tell from the sound of his voice that he wasn't calling you with good news. You felt the familiar pause of silence that made your stomach tighten with anxiety, bringing you back to a much darker time in your life that you didn't like to think about. "Look, I know this is kind of weird for me to be asking, but did you have another vision recently?"

"No. Only about the one with the dog and the hills." You said. You felt your grip around the phone tighten when your mind began to wonder about why he was calling in the first place. You prayed that it was just about how they were stuck and needed some more help in figuring it out to what the hell you meant. "Why? Are you guys okay?"

No. No, they weren't. It seemed your attempt at helping them was nothing more than a ploy, a trick to get the angels to get what they wanted. And that was Dean. It seemed they needed Dean's help to take down the Devil—but they just left out one small detail. The sword everybody was looking for wasn't an actual object, it was a body. A vessel for the archangel. And that was Dean, he was the body for Michael. It was a twist in the story that was right in front of your face, but never saw coming. You felt responsible for the trap you lead them into, and the trouble they had to go through in order to just get out.

Sam didn't just call you to inform you of the bad news, there was some good news as well. The only way him and Dean got out of there alive was because of Cas, who seemed to have came back from the dead. The news made you let out a sigh of relief at how there was some good that came from all of these terrible past few days. When you heard something that sounded to be another echoing voice coming from the other line, it brought up another piece of information that was bittersweet. The angels weren't the only one trying to track down Michael's sword. It seemed the demons wanted to be apart of the action, too.

Sam was at the hospital because Bobby Singer—hunter and father figure to the boys since they were young, a man you wrote countless times—was taken over by a demon. While it sounded like the story was doomed for a deadly ending, Bobby proved himself to be stronger than the enemy. In a last ditch effort to save the boys from Meg and her minions, he stabbed himself with Ruby's special knife. While it killed the demon possessing his body, he managed to cling on long enough for the boys to get him to a hospital. Bobby was going to live...but his injuries from where he stabbed himself meant he was going to be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his life. Sam didn't know which one was worse for the man; being killed, or not being able to hunt ever again.

Sam didn't know why he was even calling you in the first place, other than to tell you about the cheap trick Zachariah pulled to make you point the boys in their direction. He circled back to the hospital after having a conversation with his brother in the parking lot that crushed him even more. He just wanted to hear a friendly voice, someone who was a neutral party in this situation. You'd been supportive to the boys much as you could, even to someone who you watched make the worst decisions in his life that not only affected the people he was close to—but the entire world. You were a little freaked out after you saw him for the first time in weeks, you were relieved to see that he was okay, and very much human.

Subconsciously, there was something more about you that he didn't know why that made him want to call you. He heard the sound of your choice on the other line and for a split second it reminded him of Jess, how she comforted him during the few times that Dean or his father contacted him. The conversations were short, but it always left him raging with anger. But there was something about Jess, no how much he felt himself spiraling because of something, she would always pull him back. Even though she had no clue the reason why he was so angry. She would tell him that everything would be okay, in that soft and comforting voice...that made him feel like he could tell her all of his problems. The real issues he carried around through their entire relationship. But there was always a part of him that managed to pull him back. Because he never wanted to pull her into this life.

"All of this is my fault. I'm a terrible person." Sam found himself admitting a personal thought of his that was pretty clear to you from how he acted back at your house. You tried to reassure him that he wasn't such a thing, that people make mistakes. "I'm pretty sure nobody has royally screwed up much as I did. I mean, trying to fix this is one thing...but the worst part of it all might be the fact that my own brother doesn't trust me anymore."

"Well, I don't want to play devil's advocate, but you did pick a demon over your own brother and set Lucifer free." You said. When you realized what you let slip out, you winced at how bad it sounded out loud. The truth hurt, but it didn't mean that all of this could be a negative thing. "Look, I've been in Dean's position before. The whole forgiveness thing...it'll take a while, but your brother won't hate you forever. The both of you will fix this. And everything will be okay."

Sam scoffed at your optimism, but the fresh confidence made the ends of his lips stretch into a faint smile for the first time this week. “You’ve seen that far?”

"No...but, like I said before: we write our own stories. The ending can be anything we want it to be." You found yourself repeating the same piece of advice your mother used to tell you. She was always a firm believer that there was no such thing as fate. You made your choices. You weren't sure if you said it to comfort Sam, or for yourself. "My door is always open to you and Dean if you're ever in the neighborhood. Or, if you ever need...a neutral ground. I might be just a prophet, but I’m a pretty good listener. Win is, too.”

"I'll have to take you up on that offer one day." Sam said.

He felt a little bit better knowing there was someone at least on his side, who was in this much as he was. You felt your lips stretch into a smile, wanting to tell him over and over again that it was going to be okay. But you knew this was his fight to win, and you would do anything in your power to make sure things didn't escalate too far. The both of you exchanged your formal goodbyes before hanging up the phone so Sam could get back to his brother, and you to finish cleaning up your kitchen.

You let out a sigh and grabbed your bloodied rag, heading over to a spot on the wall that you'd been concentrating on during your conversation with Sam. Soon enough your kitchen was back to normal, too bad your life wasn't. You had a feeling it never would be again. You were still trying to decide if that was a good or bad thing.

[rachembol]

Dust in the Wind (Part 12/?)

Pairings: Sam x Reader (Eventually)

Genre/Warnings: Self-discovery, vengeance, grief, absentee father, typical Supernatural violence, cursing, fluff, shitty writing, idk probably typos?

Words: 2.2 k

Summary:  Life as a post doc was stressful, but your typical norm: lecturing in the morning, working in the lab in the afternoon, and finally grading homework and working on your publications in the evening.  Of course, that life came crashing down the day the sheriff of your hometown called telling you of your mother’s brutal murder. As the only child of a single mother, you had to return to your small Midwestern town to bury the only person who supported you and pushed you through everything.  While sorting through her belongings, you had come across a small box whose contents had you switching your title from Doctorate in Biology to Hunter.  What would become the search of your lifetime will not end the way you expect it.

a/n: Sorry it’s been so long!  I’ve had a lot of things pile up recently in my classes and not much time to write.  Hope you all enjoy some doubtful lovebirds.  Also, is this more than just a simple shifter case?  We will have to see!!

Series List | Part 11 | Part 13

Lights dazed in Sam’s vision, his head was pounding like crashing waves against a shoreline.  Dust hung in the air, causing him to sneeze as he finally woke up. Seconds passed before he remembered what had happened.  A new shot of adrenaline joined what was already in his system as he tugged on the ties that were holding him to a chair; the rope felt like a thousand tiny little cat scratches against his wrists and ankles.  Ignoring the throbbing pain isolated on the back of his head, he surveyed the dimly lit room looking for his attacker.

After he obtained the footage from the third store on his list, he had climbed into the back of his taxi to head to the last one. There was another passenger in the car, which hadn’t been surprising to Sam, until they hit him over the head. The first blow wasn’t enough to knock Sam out, so when the second swing came, he was able to block it. Unfortunately, the third hit its target.

Now gaining consciousness, Sam assessed his surroundings wondering who – or what – had attacked him, and if they were still nearby.  “Is anyone there?  Hello?”

He expected a response, but not from your voice.

“Is anyone there?  Hellooooooo?” It mocked.

Damn, Sam thought to himself, I must have been hit pretty fucking hard.

Approaching footsteps caught his attention; his body tensed at the looming danger.  The tension dissipated as he saw your form enter what little light was in the room.

“Y/N! Oh, thank God.  I think the shifter found out who we were; he sprung me in my cab on the way over.  Can you get these ties undone?”  His head tilted backwards, indicating the rope holding his wrists on the backside of the chair.

Your strange grin and lack of reply worried him. You walked around the back of the chair to presumably untie the rope, but instead, your hands rested on his shoulders.

“Samuel Winchester, never thought I would have the pleasure of holding you captive.  This gig turned out much better than I anticipated.”

Sam chuckled nervously as his mind caught up with the situation.  “So, you’re the shifter?  Well, at least we don’t have to keep looking for you now.”

The slap across the back of his head told him that the shifter was not up for sarcasm.  Walking around to stand in front of Sam, it looked straight into his eyes with your Y/E/C ones.  “Listen here, big guy.  You aren’t the target of this whole charade, you’re just leverage.  And you know what I like to do with leverage?” It paused, searching Sam’s face for signs of fear.  “I like to have fun.”

The shifter brought a hand up to Sam’s cheek and lightly stroked it with its thumb.  Sam attempted to pull away but it’s other hand grabbed the back of his head, preventing him.  “What’s wrong, Sammy?  Don’t you want Y/N to be touching you this way?  Caring for you?  Telling you that you mean the world to her?”

Sam watched as your smile was contorted on the shifter’s face; he began seething in anger.  “Go to hell.”

A distorted version of your laugh escaped the shifter’s lips.  “Huh, that’s exactly where someone wants Y/N to be!”  It paused as it examined Sam’s questionable look, climbing into his lap to straddle him.  The closeness was almost too much for Sam to handle.  “They tell me you’re the smart one but what I can tell from you and your brother, intellect doesn’t quite run in the family.”

Sam’s mind began to race, contemplating how this simple case was connected to you.  “What does Y/N have to do with this?”

Continuing to toy with the hunter, the shifter brought its lips – your lips – up to Sam’s ear.  “She has everything to do with this.  Whether some may question the technicality of her presence that night, he believes she was a witness to his promise of revenge.  He will fulfill it, I guarantee it.”

“Dean, this isn’t working!” You yelled, kicking the dust at your feet.  You were standing outside the abandoned barn Dean had found to interrogate the shifter. The evening air filled your lungs and cooled your skin as you two took a break.

The older Winchester’s hardened expression cut through you; he was just as upset if not more about the situation.  Sam had now been missing for several hours while Dean and you tortured the shifter to spill his location.  You now knew everything irrelevant to the matter at hand, like what the shifter’s favorite color was, or how it preferred to kill his victims, all answers that dodged your questioning.  On top of that, even though your throw wasn’t supposed to be fatal, it was slowly becoming just that.  You estimated that the monster had maybe thirty minutes left, something it knew as well.

“It has to be stalling.”

“Yeah?” Dean paused.  “No shit.”  He continued to wipe the blood from the silver blade in his hand, his movements rough and trembling; the sight causing sympathy to course through you.

The two of you returned to the shifter, deciding to use this last thirty minutes to the best of your abilities.  

Dean crouched in front of the tied down shifter, pulling its hair to make it look up at him.  “Alright douche bag, we know that you’re stalling.  Whoever you’re waiting to come busting in and save you ain’t coming.  Just tell us where the real Sam is, and you’ll be dead before you realize it.”

“Someone to save me?” It turned its head to the side to spit out the blood oozing from its upper lip.  “Ha, like that’s what I’m waiting for.  I’m a goner, just like him.”

Your anger bubbled over.  “He is not gone, you bastard!”

“He is not gone, you bastard.” It whined back at you in Sam’s voice.  “God, I honestly don’t know what he sees in you. You’re so annoying!”

You smiled at his insult, knowing that he was lying his ass off.  “I thought shifters could read snippets of the person’s mind they are impersonating, guess you’re just a defect.”  This topic had been reoccurring during your investigation; an angle at which the shifter was trying to make you crack under your emotions.  The shifter taunted you with lies that you could only dream Sam would think about you.  Even though hope would start to build within you, Dean could not learn about how you felt about the younger Winchester, you wouldn’t allow it.

Placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder, you pulled him away from the shifter.  “Dean, I think it’s time to call Cas.”

An internal struggle could be seen through Dean’s emerald eyes; he didn’t want to disturb Castiel’s search for Jack, but Sam was in danger and had been for too long.  He looked down at the ground while nodding his head in agreement, placing the silver dagger in your hands.  He walked out of the barn, leaving you with the dying monster.

“Ya’know, I’m not gonna tell you guys shit.” It jeered.

Your eyes found Sam’s blue-green ones.  They looked so perfect, yet the held the wrong gaze; the sincerity, gentleness, and humility that you knew should have been there were stripped away and replaced with coarse, raw instinct.  This was not the man you wished he was, nowhere close.

The shifter laughed under your stare, making your blood boil.  “You might want to take a picture dear, after all, this may be the last time you see your boy toy.”

The blade in your hand moved as an extension of your anger, puncturing through the shifter’s left hand tied to the chair. It’s scream echoed through the old barn, but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of your erratic heartbeat loud and clear in your ears.  Swiftly, you removed the dagger you had stashed in your boot and brought it close to the shifter’s right eye.  You would have continued moving forward if it wasn’t for those damn irises looking back at you.

A throat cleared behind you, followed by a deep voice that you recognized.  “Y/N, may I?”

Slowly peeling yourself away from the shifter, you turned to see Dean and Castiel watching you intently.  “Please do, Cas.  I don’t want to waste any more time.”

You side stepped out of the angel’s way as he approached the prisoner.  Fear couldn’t even begin to describe the shifter’s expression as Castiel placed two fingers on its forehead.  You could feel the power emanating from the two of them as he searched through the shifter’s mind for Sam’s location.

After what seemed like decades, Castiel removed his hand.  The shifter’s head tip forward, finally succumbing to its death.  “Old logging mill, about 15 minutes from here.  He’s not alone, there’s one other shifter.”

You pulled out your phone quickly and searched for any mills nearby.  “Found it.”

“Thanks, Cas.”  Dean said; a flutter of wings being Castiel’s only farewell as he disappeared.

Working quickly, the two of you disposed of the shifter’s corpse.  It wasn’t long before the Impala was racing towards the abandoned logging mill.

Hours had passed since Sam last saw you – well the shifter “you”.  After two hours of harassment, that thankfully didn’t turn quite sexual, it left to deal with some “unfinished business”.  In the time that had passed, all Sam could think about was you. How does this case have anything to do with you?  Is someone hunting you?  What is this “promise of revenge”?

After hours of deliberating with himself, your voice pulled him from his thoughts.  “Sammy, I’m home!”

A few moments passed before your form appeared in front of Sam.  In your hands was a bag from a local hardware store, its contents most likely being rope and other materials that could be used for torture.

Great, still the shifter.

Sam scoffed at the sight.  “Uh, you may not have noticed but, you’ve already tied me up.  I don’t see the point in more rope.”

The shifter scrunched your face in annoyance as it glided over to the table perched next to Sam’s chair, placing the bag on top of it.  “God, what does she even see in you?  Hell, what do you even see in her?”  

Her words caught Sam of guard.  “Excuse me?”

“Don’t tell me you’re oblivious to it too?”  His dumbfounded expression shocked the shifter, inciting her to continue.  “Oh my God, you are!  Both of you are head over heels for each other and don’t know it!”

A fit of laughter consumed the shifter as Sam stared in disbelief.  “Yeah, you must be a flawed shifter.” He ridiculed.

“Flawed shifter? You would rather believe that I am a shifter not capable of hearing her thoughts than you two being dumbasses? That’s freaking gold!  And to think, I got to witness first hand her worry about you getting jealous.”

“Wait, what?” He questioned.

“Last night at the bar?  When that dumb bitch walked up to me to try to win a bet?  I was scoping out the place for a new victim when the whole reason I was in this town walked right up to me.  I gotta say, you three picked up scent of our work quicker than I expected.”

Sam listened to every word carefully.  If he played his cards right, he knew he could still get information from this shifter. “Our work?”

It stiffened at his words, realizing it had made a mistake.  Finally, it shrugged its shoulders before continuing.  “Guess it doesn’t matter since you’ll be dead soon anyway. Two shifters were hired to cause mayhem in this town in hopes of dragging Y/N out here: Connor and myself. We didn’t know she was traveling with the Winchesters but, seeing as you were not difficult to capture I’m sure your bother will be an easy catch as well.”

“Overall, this has been an easy gig.  I was able to transform into Y/N after I ran into her last night, and Connor got to turn into the giant Winchester to trick your counterparts.  It was quite funny, as we learned about you two lovebirds; however, I’m still shocked you two haven’t done anything about it.  Knowing Connor, he’s probably already played her like a fiddle, I’ll even bet he’s sleeping with Y/N as we speak.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched out of rage.  He would have ripped himself from this chair had it not been for his already embedded and swollen wrists.  If he had been too blind to see how you felt, he sure as hell didn’t want some shifter being the one who told you the truth.

Sam, stop and think.  The shifter is toying with you.  If this Connor guy has gotten into your head, he will have known how you felt and told this shifter.  You cannot trust what its saying.

He calmed his mind before responding.  “Wow, you are really good at making shit up.”

The shifter snorted in disbelief.  “Wow Winchester, you really don’t understand a damn thing-“

It cut itself off at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Well, well.” It whispered.  “The party has arrived.”

Series List | Part 11 | Part 13

[carryonourwaywardoneshots-blog]

Stalk (part one)

Title: Stalk (part one)

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Unofficial Chapter

Part Five (Final)

Ship: Dean x Reader

Description: The reader is in Sioux Falls visiting her father, Bobby, when her old childhood friends, Sam and Dean, stop by to do some research on a local monster. Dean becomes suspicious of the reader and questions her to find out she has a stalker.

Warnings: Threats; Lying; Stalking

Word Count: 1,975

Masterlist

(Y/D/J) ~ Your Dream Job

(Y/C/N) ~ Your City Name

(Y/E/C) ~ Your Eye Color

It had been a long time since she’s been in Sioux Falls, nearly two and a half years. Hell, she was even beginning to miss it. “Dad!” (Y/N) smiled, enveloping her father into a big hug. “(Y/N), what are you doing here?” the older man wondered, but was still happy to see his daughter nevertheless. “I was just passing though and I thought that I should stop by to see you.” He welcomed her inside, leading her to the kitchen. “Would you like anything to drink? Water? A beer?” It was something he was still not used to but asked anyways. (Y/N) left home when she was nineteen… and that was six years ago. Occasionally she would stop by for little visits so she wasn’t totally cutting off her father. “No, no. I’m fine, Dad.” She smiled at the man as she sat down at the kitchen table. “So,” he grabbed a beer for himself from the fridge and sat across from her, “Tell me everything that’s happened since the last time I saw you and, please, don’t leave out any details.” He was more than eager to catch up with his only child.

“Well,” she thought for a moment, attempting to remember if anything interesting happened lately, “I finally got my degree for (Y/D/J).” His eyes widened, a grin crawling across his face. “That’s great, (Y/N)!” As much as he exposed (Y/N) to the hunting life when she was a little girl, he was kind of hoping that the girl would get a normal job and degree when she was older. The hunting life wasn’t for everyone and he had come to accept that once she left home for college. Just as the man placed his hand on his daughter’s, the front door of the house opened abruptly. “Hey Bobby?” A loud, husky voice called out and echoed throughout the home. A sigh escaped the older man's mouth as two significantly younger men entered the kitchen. “(Y/N), you remember Sam and Dean Winchester, don’t you?” She nodded, although she hadn’t seen the two since they were kids. Their father, John, was a good friend of her dad’s and would swing by every once in a while, and drop the boys off to stay the week. “How could I not?” (Y/N) stood up from her seat to get a good feel of how much the boys grew, Sam shooting almost as tall as a sky scraper. Dean? Not so much. Though he was taller than her, he didn’t look that way next to his younger brother.

“(Y/N), I thought I was never going to see you again!” The tallest one hugged her and let go after a couple seconds. Dean was more than eager to hug the younger girl. There was only a couple people that knew about his childhood crush on Bobby’s daughter and that was both Bobby and Sam. As much as he denied it, Sam still teased him about it whenever her name was brought up in a conversation. Once the Bobby learned of his crush, he immediately put an end to it. There was a long story behind it that the both of them just wanted to forget about. Dean’s hug was tighter, with more feeling, than Sam’s hug. “Well, I’m here guys. What are you two doing here?” As much as Dean didn’t want to, he let go of the girl and turned towards Bobby. The boys explained themselves, needing a little help with a hunt nearby and decided to stop by instead of calling to surprise the older man. As their conversations carried on, Dean stole as many glances at (Y/N) as he could when Bobby wasn’t looking. If he found out that Dean still liked her, he would get hung by his ass.

“So, (Y/N), what’re you doing here today?” Sam asked, a smile crawling across her lip as she explained that she was just passing through town and wanted to see her dad. But there was something about her story that was… a little off. A glimmer in her eye? A twitch of a face muscle? It was something Sam and Bobby did not catch, but Dean did the more he studied her. He went on listening to her reasoning, trying to absorb every twitch he could, picking out every little lie. The truth was something he was going to have to pick out of her sooner or later.

A little later in the day, (Y/N) was in the study rereading one of her favorite books when Dean strolled in and sat across from her. “Yes?” She looked up for half a second, not turning her head from the book. Dean leaned forward, his elbows on the top of his thighs as he sighed, “Sam’s boring and from the looks of it, so are you.” He teased the girl as she smiled as she set her book down on the desk. “Reading is boring?” She crossed her legs and folded her arms, eager to hear what the eldest Winchester had to say about her favorite past time. “It is when you’re doing research twenty-four-seven.” (Y/N) raised an eyebrow, releasing her arms and leaning on the desk. “What exactly are you guys researching?” A smile of curiosity found it’s way to her lips. “Oh, it’s nothing.” He shook it off, waving his hand in the air.

“Well, it’s obviously something if you’re both here bothering my father about it, isn’t it?” No one could fool her, not even the infamous Dean Winchester. The room became silent for a matter of seconds, (Y/N) considered picking the book up to make it less awkward in the room. Dean, on the other hand, had a different plan that he was going to set in motion. They kept eye contact as he opened his mouth, “I’ll tell you if you tell me the real reason why you’re in town.” Her heart beat began to quicken as the thought crossed her mind. ‘He knows. He knows. Oh shit.’ She silently panicked and looked away from the emerald eyes that stared at her intently. “I told you why downstairs. I was passing through.” Her voice was low and quiet, almost giving away the truth.

“(Y/N), you live in (Y/C/N), why would you just happen to be passing through Sioux Falls?” She felt the fear beginning to build up as he kept pressing her for more information. If Dean found out about what happened this morning, he would surely tell her father, who also wouldn’t take it too lightly. All she wanted was a weekend away from home to relax and feel safe in a house with a hunter who has many, many, many guns and weapons to choose from. Sweat beaded at the base of her forehead, making Dean believe was finally beginning to get her to crack. “I have my reasons, Dean. Now, if you’d excuse me, I have a book to read.” (Y/N) immediately picked up the novel and read the same words repeatedly for a few seconds, not able to concentrate when she glanced up and saw Dean still sitting in the chair, staring at her, studying her.

“Are you in trouble, (Y/N)?” His words came out softly and quietly. Her eyes reverted to the words. “Does it really matter?” she sighed, attempting to move onto the next sentence, but this one only seemed even more jumbling to her as the stress grew more and more out in the open. “It does. Obviously you’re running from something if you want to be in a house full of hunters. If you were visiting you dad for real, you would be downstairs with him, right now, in that kitchen chatting him up. Not… not in hiding in the study up here.” He cleared his throat before continuing, “So, are you going to tell me what you’re running from or do I have to go full interrogation on you?”

It was too much for her. “I have a fucking stalker, okay? Are you happy? I was trying not to think about it until I figured out a plan to get rid of him but you’re kind of fucking ruining that, Dean.” She slammed the book down on the desk before standing up from the chair and walking around the desk and heading for the door. It was only a diversion away from the real topic. The truth was that she thought she got rid of the stalker a couple weeks, but her mind was changed last night. Before she can even reach for the door handle, Dean gently grabs her wrist, prompting the girl to look at him. “I can help you, (Y/N). I just need his name and that’s it. No questions asked and it’ll be quick, I promise.” His emerald eyes stared into her (Y/E/C) which only widened in fear from his statement. “You’re not fucking killing him, Dean! What the fuck?!” She shook her wrist away from him, taking a step back. “Who said anything about killing? I have my ways to get him to leave you alone without harming him.” He rolled his eyes, standing up and stepping towards her and enveloping her in a big, warm hug.

“You promise that all he’s done is stalk you?” He pulled away slightly and looked down at the girl who seemed to be melting into his hug suddenly. “You… you said no questions asked, Dean.” She muttered into his chest.

“Come on, Sam.” Dean rushed out of the Impala, shot gun in hand. He didn’t care that he just left a creature behind in Sioux Falls. (Y/N) was in danger by a human, one of the worst monsters out there. They can be destructive, selfish, harmful… just down-right dangerous and Dean wasn’t going to let (Y/N) get hurt. The brothers went up the steps of the old colonial home, presumably owned by the boy’s parents. From what (Y/N) told him, this kid was only a couple years younger than her. He was smart, skipped a couple grades in intermediate school and graduated high school early. He just earned his degree the same time as (Y/N) and apparently couldn’t bare to face the fact that he’ll never see her again.

So naturally, his instinct told him that sending her a message on facebook wasn’t enough for him. He had to stand outside her house every night, watching her bedroom, watching her in her kitchen, watching her as she got out of the shower. This was punishable by death in Dean’s opinion, but since that wasn’t part of his and (Y/N)’s deal, he settled to just scaring the kid into confessing to the cops about what he’s done.

“Hopefully his mom and dad aren’t home, Dean. People don’t take too kindly to people knocking on their doors with freaking shot guns in their hands.” Sam looked to his older brother, nervously, taking out his hand gun. He was willing to do anything for his brother, even if that meant scaring the guy who was stalking his brother’s childhood crush. “I’m not knocking on the door.” Dean muttered as he pressed on the doorbell with the barrel of the shot gun, hiding it behind his back when he heard footsteps approaching the door. A kid about ten years younger than him answered it, rubbing his eyes. “Do you understand what time it is?” He groaned, studying the two suspicious brothers.

“Yeah, it’s time you leave (Y/N) alone.” Dean pumped the shotgun and aimed it at the kid. His eyes widened when he processed what Dean had in his hands. “Woah! Woah, dude, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

[awed-frog]

I had some issues with the long promo too. So I'm curious to hear more about what you thought

Okay, here is basically what was going through my mind -

[under a cut because I try to keep this blog spoiler free, also I’m slightly bitter about most of it]

Oooooh the car, I’ve missed the car.

“Starting in the worst place they’ve ever started.” - Hey remember that time Dean thought Sam was dead and Cas didn’t give a fuck about him and also he’d stopped hunting and was suffering from PTSD so much he almost killed a kid? And mmmh remember that other time when Dean went to Hell and Sam was left hugging his brother’s mangled and bloody body? And when Dean thought Cas had died and also Sam was about to die as well? Yeah, me too. Fun times.

Honestly, I don’t get why they need to hype it up every year - we. don’t. want. the. hype. We want a decently thought-out plot and good writing and room for the characters to be themselves?

And now I’m thinking about that tumblr post, I’ll pay you $10 to let them talk to each other.

Yeah.

In S12 they were okay because ‘Mom was back’? Excuse you, do you even watch your own show? 

And I like how Crowley and Rowena are listed as allies, LOL YOU COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING ABOUT THAT AND IT WOULD HAVE BEEN GREAT but guess what, too late now.

“A big part of last season was stripping all that away…” - Uh no, that’s exactly what my issue with last season was - let me reword it for you: “A big part of the last six minutes of the finale was stripping all that away”. Mary was not there to strip away because we barely saw her all season and there was maybe one significant exchange that was going on when everyone was awake, and as for Cas and Crowley - don’t get me started on that.

“A season that was about the family coming together…” - Okay, thanks for mentioning it - good to know that was your goal for S12, but (again) it didn’t really work for me.

“The only thing they have to rely on it’s each other” - Nope nope NOPE, I can’t even hear this bullshit anymore - they’ve got friends, you know? Friends who risk their damn lives for them - Jody almost freaking died because Sam asked her to - not to mention those other hunters who did die because Sam asked them to - the people at Asa’s funeral who were friendly and nice and wanted to get to know them better - Aaron and his bloody golem - Garth - why are you pushing this ‘You and me against the rest of the world narrative’ which is simply no longer true? Why?

Okay the golden eyes are cool but man I do not like Jack so far.

Oh God, why does Jack want to find Lucifer?

I have this theory US movies are obsessed with father/son relationships because of a subconscious guilt for kicking the British’ asses back in 17whatever. Like, every single movie is about that? And no European movie ever is about that?

“He’s not God, he’s not Cas, he’s not Simba, he’s the freaking Devil.” - I do not understand this list at all. Maybe it’ll make sense in context?

Okay, it’s interesting that Dabb would use the words ‘salvageable’ and ‘necessary’ about Sam’s interest in Jack, because once again, they’re trying to paint Sam as the rational one, Mr Head Choice, and we know Sam’s not really that? He’s such a complex character, and yet they never explore all those repressed feelings he’s carrying around, and part of the problem there is that they need him to be Cold and Collected to underscore how Gay and Grief-stricken Dean is, so that’s why they’re ruining his characterizazion, and that’s another way this #NoHomo policy is hurting the show. You hear people say we don’t care about Sam, but it’s precisely because I care about Sam too that I want these issues out in the open. The fact he mostly didn’t give a damn when Cas was in danger, for instance, was beyond annoying.

(Why are they in two different cells, by the way? Are sheriffs getting smarter? Good.)

So Jack starts out as naked - whose clohes is he wearing then? Because Sam’s would be about three sizes too big for him, but that ridiculous jacket is definitely not Dean’s. I’d probably pay for a scene where Sam and Dean squabble because Dean just give him a damn shirt already and No way I’m not giving my clothes to that asshole and Fine, do you want his naked butt on your precious seats and Dean gives up and throws his least favourite everything at Jack and Yeah, don’t bother saying thank you.

That church reminds me of the one in Westworld and now I’m hoping they’ll have more ‘homage episodes’ this year because the Tarantino thing was amazing.

So apparently we’re back to the nature vs nurture theme, I guess that’s - good? I’ve missed the Big Questions, so I’m here for that.

Look, when even Buckner says “Dean’s as low as we’ve ever seen him” - I give up.

Can’t wait to see Dean’s room properly, but if the cross is really gone - yeah.

Even though, I’m not even sure I like those clues anymore. Like, make it gay or stop it - why should I guess a character’s sexuality from his choice in interior decorating and beer brands?

That place where Cas’ body is looks like the cabin - I’m hoping the angels stole his body and that’s actually Kelly burning on the pyre, because I’m still convinced burning the only vessel that can actually hold Cas is a stupid move.

(Why did Jack not bring her back to life though?)

(Also, why did neither Sam or Dean ever bother to find out what happens to angels after death? Seemed kind of important?) 

So meanwhile it looks like Michael kidnapped Lucifer and Mary was found by some friend of Bobby’s?

“Emotionally it’s a very pure place for her to exist in” - Yeah the question now is - Dean hated that part of himself, but Mary - doesn’t? Which is one of the reasons I don’t like her very much.

Hey it’s Colonel Sanders!

This reminds me of Lucifer!Sam back in Endverse and now I’m nostalgic.

Not in a good way, though.

Okay, so I’m hoping they’ll have a very good explanation for why those Princes of Hell stayed out of the narrative for so long. Because that other one, he basically wanted to fish and read Hemingway or whatever, but this one? He wants to rule? So why didn’t he show up before?

(What accent is that, by the way?)

Wait, so Lucifer will come back in our world? My God, he’s basically a cockroach! Just. Kill. Him.

Okay, I liked Donatello. Let’s hope he doesn’t die.

Also, I could do with an episode consisting entirely of a side character like that and what the hell they do all day after their discovery that the supernatural world is real. Like, do you try to forget and go back to your day job? Or what? Was Dean playing Words with Friends with him too? Or did they just - forget he ever existed and hope for the best?

Yay for Jody! Yay for Michael!

Very curious to see what Missouri’s excuse is for keeping out of everyone’s lives for twelve years.

Probably riverboat gambling.

Wait, is she related to Rufus Turner?

If she is, it’s very implausible that it never came up at all.

*internal ranting*

Yay for Patience Turner, though.

(Also, why did they give so much screen time to Buckleming? Are they trying to make us hate them less? Or maybe everybody on this show is just oblivious.

No wait, Singer just said they pay attention to us. Uh.)

Nothing but love for the spinoff, but saying it ‘became increasingly obvious it was a world we wanted to epxlore more’ when they tried to force two other spinoffs down our throats first - smh.

Wait, what? The spinoff will explore “what happens when Sam and Dean Winchester aren’t on this plane of existence”? Because that makes it sound like a) this is the last season and b) it will end with the Winchesters either dead or trapped somewhere.

Which wold sort of suck.

Honestly, dafuq?

Plus, you know, it’s not like we need them out of the way to follow other hunters - presumably, they don’t take care of every single weird murder int the US, and also spend a lot of their time not calling anyone and never visiting, so.

I never watched Scoody-Doo so I have nothing to say about that, but I’m sure they can execute this well, whatever they’re planning.

So they’re going with autistic characteristics for Jack? I don’t know how I feel about that.

I mean, yay for representation, but also - this ‘not getting metaphorical language’ tends to be presented in media as something that comes from not having experience of the world, which infantilizes people on the autistic spectrum, which I’m not very excited about.

Also, autism is generally presented as a cool thing that’s about unintentional humour, utter disregard for other people’s feelings and high intelligence, and that makes characters so 2D that they’re basically walking tropes.

Good to see Claire couldn’t drink on their watch but this unknowable mass of power, energy and potentially pure Evil can have a beer, and never mind how dangerous it’d be if he got drunk. 

(But it’s okay because he’s a boy, maybe?)

Then again, I never understood this US thing about alcohol. If you want to, you should start drinking at home - a glass of wine or a beer with your family when you’re 15 or 16 - that normalizes alcohol and prevents the kind of binge drinking we see in the UK or the US.

(Look at me - an expert on everything. Some days I just stun myself.)

“Right now they’ve got nothing but each other…” - Stop. Saying. That.

“…but that’s the core of the show.” - This scares me. Like, a lot. Because, as we always say, I get there were both narrative and real life reasons for the show to be as it was - Sam and Dean and Dean and Sam - but surely the whole point is for them to escape that? They told us they want to, for God’s sake. Sam’s been trying to find a romantic partner since he was thirteen. Dean is bloody starved for affection and human touch. They hate doing everything themselves - they’re getting too old for that weight, that responsibility - and all of that is textual and canon. So if the core of the show continues to be the two of them, alone - well - we go towards the tragic finale here, because even if they survive, they won’t be happy with a situation like that. And after all they’ve been through, that’s just heartbreaking.

So, well, here you go. Hopes it answers your question? Sorry I can’t be more positive and coherent - I should actually be working rn, but yeah - this is basically how I feel about the whole thing.

[hekate1308]

The Baggage We Carry, Chapter Seven

Read it on AO3

They were woken up by Dad, who bemusedly hollered “Aren’t you a little too old for that, boys?” as he looked in at them from the hallway.

“Make him stop” Sam grumbled.

“Been trying to” Dean answered before they got up.

“Did you have bad dreams last night, Sammy?” Dad teased them at breakfast.

“Let it go, John, they’re brothers, they were probably sharing secrets” Mom said as if they were freaking five-year-olds pretending they knew something the adults didn’t in kindergarten.

Sam was about to reply when he felt Dean nudge him under the table.

He had the feeling he’d have to learn to hold his tongue if he wanted to get through the next few years peacefully.

Despite Sam’s discomfort, on that morning Dean Winchester couldn’t help but feel elated.

The connection, the bond he had shared with his brother, that most precious of all human relations, which he had thought long extinguished, had returned just when he needed it the most; and so, with a mutual understanding that he hadn’t experienced in far too long, they were able to –

“Oh God” Crowley groaned. “He did his Austen essay. Cassie, make him stop or kill me, I’m not listening to him gushing about his brother in that style until the class starts”.

“Excuse you, what do you have against Jane Austen?”

“What do you have against sounding like you are actually living in the twenty-first century?”

“Dean, can I read your essay?” Cas asked, his eyes sparkling, and Dean pulled it out of his backpack and handed it to him, heart beating fast.

Crowley muttered something like “idiots” under his breath.

His friend read the paper as he usually did when he concentrated on something; his eyes rapidly tracing the letters, his tongue now and then popping out to wet his lips.

Dean’s own mouth ran dry. He didn’t dare meet Crowley’s eyes.

“This is amazing, Dean” Cas said earnestly a few minutes later.

He shuffled his feet.

“Just did my best, is all”.

“Your worst is usually more than most people could achieve, Squirrel”.

Dean looked up, shocked.

“Crowley – was that a compliment?”

He seemed as surprised as Dean felt.

“I mean – ah – you’re not mentally deficient. Yes. That’s it”.

Thank God. For a second there, he’d feared Crowley was broken.

“We need to go to class” Cas reminded him.

“I’ll see you two at lunch” Crowley said and disappeared before they could ask him where.

“Freak” he muttered under his breath, but he was smiling.

They only found out what he had meant when they walked into the cafeteria at lunch, intent on eating quickly so they could meet up (and Dean was definitely not thinking about how they were walking close enough that he could easily have grabbed Cas’ hand if he wanted to) and found Crowley sitting right there in the middle at an empty table that by all means should have been full of students, only they were busy staring at him and whispering amongst themselves.

And Dean understood.

For whatever reason, Crowley had decided that he was going to make him choose.

Cas’ approach was subtler; do his homework with him, praise him for it, make him feel important.

But Crowley was nothing if not a drama queen, and he wanted him to make a big gesture now or presumably never.

We are way too young for all this dramatic bullshit, a part of him thought, but at the same time...

There was something about saying screw you for once.

Dean and Cas moved through the mass of confused students side by side, even though neither of them had said a word, and after they had got their food, they sat down next to Crowley.

“Dear God, it knows the way now, Cas... We’re doomed”.

“It’s alright, I’ll watch over you”.

“Shut up, I just found myself feeling peckish” Crowley muttered.

Dean had the feeling that it was something more.

Ever since they’d been over to the Singers’ house, Crowley had been more... outgoing.

At least for him. Hell, he’d accompanied Dean, Sam and Cas to the park, even though he’d still protested against playing football.

One of these days, Dean would have to ask.

“Dean? Cas?”

He turned around to find Aaron with a tray full of food in his hands.

“Hi”.

His eyes were fixed on Crowley.

“It’s alright. He doesn’t bite” Dean assured him.

“Not unless you want me to”.

Crowley winked.

Aaron blushed scarlet – at least he wasn’t scared – and sat down and Dean’s side.

“Hello, I’m – “

“Aaron Bass. You have been close friends with Dean for about three years. No siblings, but you and your grandfather get along very well”.

“And would you believe me” Dean dead-panned, “I never told him anything about you”.

Anything wasn’t quite true, but most of the stuff Crowley had figured out himself.

“Alright” Aaron said slowly. “That wasn’t creepy at all”.

“I have a reputation to uphold”.

Surprisingly, he smiled.

“I can see why you and Dean would get on like a house on fire”.

“We sure do” Dean said.

“Crowley is a more than acceptable companion” Cas replied.

Aaron suddenly chuckled.

“Oh my god, I’m at the weirdo table.”

“Would you rather be among the starers and whisperers, Bass?” Crowley asked. “Didn’t think you were the type.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know what type I am exactly”.

Oh my god, Aaron was flirting with him.

Dean definitely hadn’t foreseen that.

Even Crowley looked surprised.

When nothing weird whatsoever happened during the course of lunch – to the disappointment of the student body, who had at least expected that the school bad boy would try and knife someone at the table – the interest in them slowly died down.

“So, your Highness” Dean said at the end, “might you even grace us with your presence in class today?”

“Not today” Crowley said cryptically, baffling Dean. Was he actually contemplating showing up one of these days?

“What do you think is up with him?” he asked Cas on their way back to class.

“I think Sam wasn’t the only one who learned something during that dinner” he replied carefully. “I think Crowley feels more comfortable with letting people see his true self now.”

“He... wouldn’t be the only one” Dean said carefully.

Cas smiled.

“I’ve noticed”.

Dean swallowed; was he really going to do this?

“Cas, I – “

“Mr. Winchester” Miss Moseley called out and he winced. The no-nonsense maths teacher had caused him to sweat more than many training sessions for the team.

“Yes, Miss?”

She stood still in the corridor and studied them, and he’d once more the feeling that she was reading his mind.

“Good call” was all she said before she swept past them.

Alright, it was officially a weird day.

“Dude, she’s scary”.

“She’s just... intense” Cas supplied.

“I’d say. Anyway, ready for physics?”

He grinned.

“Can’t wait until we finally reach the good stuff”.

Crowley ate at the cafeteria more and more often after that day. He also now and then showed up in the busier hallways, which he had avoided until now.

Dean hadn’t asked him about it yet; whatever it was that had suddenly made him decided to interact more with people, he seemed content enough, and he was the same old snarky Crowley when they were together.

People slowly got used to the sight of him, even though there were a few who still ran off in the other direction when he came near them.

Thankfully though, while people wondered at his and Cas’ and Dean’s apparent friendship – moreover, in his and Dean’s case a friendship with all the signs of longstanding camaraderie – the news never made their way outside of school.

Despite his very recent decision that hey, maybe there was something to the things Cas and Crowley and Sammy now as well continued to preach to him, he wouldn’t have liked explaining all of this to his parents.

Especially since Crowley’s mother had exactly once entered the garage after her car had stopped working in the middle of the road and had angered Dad so far that he’d used the word “witch” at the dinner table and had even gone so far as to attest he might have been tempted to say something else if Mom hadn’t been present.

Dean really hoped they never met, and that she didn’t marry some rich guy before her son was old enough not to get shipped away to some fancy school.

“So” Sam asked one evening, stumbling into his room without knocking, “do you want to go to the movies?”

“Can’t” Dean said, “have to study for a math test, sorry”.

Sam beamed and darted away to let him work.

At least until a few moments later, when Mom knocked on his door.

“Dean? I heard what you said to Sam... You’re not having problems at school, right?”

“No, Mom. I’d tell you if I had.”

She nodded, then smiled.

“I guess I grew concerned when I heard you were actually foregoing the cinema in order to study”.

For once, he didn’t force himself to laugh, and she left slightly confused.

He needed good grades for a scholarship solid enough to get him through four years of college.

“Winchester” Miss Moseley told him a week later, “Quite an improvement. I knew you had it in you”.

“Thank you” he said, honestly surprised when he saw just how well he’d done.

Cas and Crowley were already waiting for him on the roof during the next break, and he all but pounced into the former’s arms.

“She actually told me I did good! Can you believe it!”

“No. This is me, not believing you” Crowley said flatly.

“Maybe you should have a smoke” he suggested, still hugging Cas.

“Nope, I told you I am going to quit.”

“When did you tell me?”

“Just now”.

“Drama queen” Dean said, shaking his head, then stepping back to accept Cas’ praises.

“Dean, I knew you were amazing” he began, blushing. “I just didn’t know if you would be able to prove it already”.

Dean grinned.

“Yep, I’m pretty damn awesome”.

“I knew he could” Crowley said. “Why do you think I’m quitting cigarettes?”

“Because you actually went to biology for once and learned it’s bad for you?” Dean suggested, because it was surely never too late for even Crowley to visit a class now and then.

“Very funny, Squirrel. Nah, I just figured... If you’ll be around to save the world through biomedical engineering and whatever Feathers chooses to pursue with that giant brain of his, it might be worth watching”.

“So you can burn it down?”

“I told you the chance was fifty-fifty. And you’re not the only one capable of changing his opinion” he all but snapped and Dean wondered if he’d perhaps underestimated just how much his friend had changed over the years.

“I never said that you weren’t” he observed mildly.

“Neither did I” Castiel said, “and I had heard quite a few things about you before Dean introduced us”.

Crowley relaxed.

“Aw, it’s cute when you two decide to co-parent someone”.

Alright, maybe he hadn’t changed that much.

“You’ve got roughly one and a half years left” Crowley reminded him. “You better get to work if you actually mean it”.

They all knew he just wanted to make them forget about that moment a second ago.

“Oh, trust me” Dean said “I plan on winning this round”.

Because yes, despite that he had believed himself to be resigned to his parents’ plans, despite Sammy laughing with them for years, despite his early beliefs that he’d lose both Cas and Crowley when they left...

Somehow he had decided differently.

Had it been when they went to sit with Crowley? At the Singers’? He’d probably never know.

But here was the thing.

Dean Winchester would get a scholarship, and he would go to the best damn college he could find, and he’d go with his bestie and his...

Well...

He glanced at Cas.

That was a subject for another day.

[superwholock-marvel-images]

Through Time and Space (part four)

part one, part two, part three

You’re talking to Sam and Katie when you hear the gunfire. “I’ll be back… hopefully.” You say before getting up and walking to the living room where the gunfire happened… it’s only Sherlock shooting a smiley face he painted on the wall, just because he is bored. As Sherlock fires another round into the wall John comes running up the stairs with his fingers in his ears.

“What the hell are you doing?” John yells.

“Bored.” Sherlock replies rather sulkily.

“What?”

“Bored!” Sherlock fires a few more rounds while yelling bored two more times. John somehow gets the gun away from Sherlock before removing the clip. You roll your eyes before heading back to your room where you were talking to your siblings.

“What was that about?” Sam asks when you sit back down.

“Sherlock started shooting a smiley face on the wall.” You reply.

“Why was he shooting the wall in the first place?”

“He was doing it out of boredom.”

“Are you sure that you should be staying there?” Cue the overprotective older siblings. You roll your eyes.

“Just because one my flatmates shoots the wall when he’s bored doesn’t mean that I’m going to leave like that.” You snap your fingers when you say ‘that’.

“He could’ve shot you though.” Katie counters.

“If I did get shot, my other flatmate is a doctor. I’m in good hands, Katie.” You reply, your slight British accent starts to poke through. Recently, you noticed that your accent comes through when you are emotional. Sam starts laughing.

“What?”

“You have an accent.” He answers.

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

"Sherlock! Why is there a head of a vampire in the fridge?!" You shout upon opening the fridge.

"A what now?" Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's elder brother asks.

"There's a head in the fridge Mycroft." You deadpan.

John comes running up the stairs asking if you and Sherlock are okay. “Are you alright John?” You ask.

“I just saw on the telly about the explosion near our flat.”

“Oh… they said it was a gas leak and no one got hurt.”

“Your shirt is singed slightly.” John points out.

“It’s been like that since the day I got it. This is a second-hand shirt.”

“From your sister I presume.” Sherlock points out.

“Originally Dean’s but Katie was the one that gave it to me.” You answer. “I swear you know more about me then I know about myself.” After a little bit, Mycroft takes his leave.

“Are you going to explain why you said vampire?” Sherlock asks getting out of his seat and walking over to you.

“If you grab the head I’ll show you.” You answer, Sherlock does so and sets the head on the table- John has a disgusted look on his face. “For one thing I noticed this.” You say as you show the consulting detective the vampire’s fangs.

“How did I miss those?” Sherlock questions.

“They’re easy to miss. That’s how vampires pass as human. Anyways if you look at where the neck used to be, it’s a clean cut.”

“So what does that mean?”

“It means the hunter that did this has hunted vampires before. If it was an amateur, it would look like a kindergartner’s art project.”

“So uneven?” Sherlock asks trying to follow your train of thought.

“Yup.” Sherlock looks rather intrigued. “Now here’s the thing most hunters are careful enough to depose all of the bodies and the heads… this hunter missed a head.”

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

You, Sherlock and John, are at Scotland Yard following Lestrade to his office. “You like the funny cases, don’t you?” Lestrade asks. “The surprising ones.”

“Obviously.” Sherlock answers with a monotone voice, but you can see it in his eyes- his interest has been piqued.

“You’ll love this. That explosion…” Donovan walks by causing Sherlock to throw her a dirty look.

“Gas leak right?” Sherlock asks looking back at Lestrade.

“No.” The three of you look surprised at the detective’s response. Lestrade opens the door to his office. Inviting the three of you in.

“No?”

“No, made to look like one.”

“What?” John splutters. Lestrade gestures to the envelope on his desk. It has Sherlock’s name handwritten on it.

“Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box – a very strong box – and inside it was this.” Lestrade explains.

“You haven’t opened it?” Sherlock inquires.

“It’s addressed to you, isn’t it?” Sherlock reaches for the envelope then hesitates. “We’ve X-rayed it. It’s not booby-trapped.”

“How reassuring.” Sherlock then picks it up studying it. “Nice stationery. Bohemian.” Lestrade asks for clarification. “From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?”

“No.” Lestrade replies. Sherlock studies the handwriting.

“She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold – iridium nib.”

“Deduce that from the cursive?” You ask. Sherlock chooses to ignore you. Sherlock then opens the envelope to find an exact replica of the phone from the woman in the pink case. Lestrade refers to that case as the study in pink. “The what now?”

“You haven’t read John’s blog?” Lestrade asks sounding surprised. You arch an eyebrow.

“I didn’t even know John had a blog.”

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

You find out that the sneakers Sherlock found in 221c (Mrs. Hudson’s basement) belonged to a person named Carl Powers- Sherlock’s very first case.

“Nineteen eighty-nine, a young kid – a champion swimmer – came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament; drowned in the pool. Tragic accident.” Sherlock says showing you and John an old newspaper headline on his phone. “You wouldn’t remember it. Why should you?”

“But you do…” You comment. Sherlock nods. “So there wasn’t anything suspicious about it then?”

“Nobody thought so – nobody except me. I was only a kid myself. I read about it in the papers.”

“Started young, didn’t you?” John jokes. Sherlock ignores his comment.

“The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out it was too late. But there was something wrong; something I couldn’t get out of my head.”

“What?”

“His shoes.”

“You’ve lost me.” You state.

“They weren’t there. I made a fuss; I tried to get the police interested, but nobody seemed to think it was important. He’d left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes …” Sherlock then gestures to the bag that is holding the sneakers. “Until now.”

While Sherlock is busy figuring out the case, John has to go pay a visit to Mycroft. You, on the other hand, was helping Katie do research for a hunt, but you’re distracted and can’t really focus on anything. “Y/N?” Katie asks.

“Hmm?” You answer not really paying any attention.

“What’s going on, you’re never like this.” You sigh, looking at your computer screen.

“I’m just distracted at the moment. There is a psychopath running around London…”

“Other than your roommate?”

“Sherlock isn’t a psychopath sis. He’s more of a sociopath… also, Sherlock doesn’t strap people to bombs when he’s bored.” You stare down at the keyboard, fighting back tears. “Katie, I’m scared.” Normally you don’t tell anyone that you’re scared, but your siblings are the only exceptions.

“I don’t know what I can do… I mean you’re on the other side of the world (nickname).” You just nod in response.

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

A little later you get back to the flat carrying a small bag of Chinese food. You hear Sherlock yelling at the TV. ‘Is Sherlock watching Star Wars?’ You think to yourself.

You don’t really recall what happened before you ended up at the pool with John… John’s strapped to a bomb, and you have a sniper pointing his gun at your chest. When Sherlock shows up, you see his look of terror when he sees John. John removes the jacket revealing the bomb to Sherlock. Sherlock looks a little relieved but he is still wary of John for now. John narrates a few things through an earpiece. “I can stop John Watson and Y/N Winchester too… stop their hearts.” John says flinching slightly.

Now you’ve never been one for rules. So when it’s your turn to speak you do not follow the script. You actually pull the earpiece out of your ear and then throw it into the pool shorting it out. “I am not going to be someone’s goddamned puppet.” You state.

“Y/N look out!” Sherlock shouts, you see the bullet and move out of the way at the last second. The bullet embeds itself into the wall. You then walk over to Sherlock and John. The man named Moriarty eventually comes out. That is an interesting conversation, to say the least. While Sherlock is taking off the bomb attached to John, your arm brushes against your side causing you to hiss softly.

Your side got grazed by that sniper bullet.

“Son of a bitch.” You say through clenched teeth.

“Y/N?” Sherlock asks looking up from what he is doing.

“Even though I got mostly out of the way, the bullet still grazed my side… it's not bleeding too much though.”

“I’ll take a look at it when all this junk off of me.” John says as Sherlock removes the earpiece. John doesn’t get to look at your injury right away Moriarty just came back.

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

You flinch as John rubs some rubbing alcohol on your side. “Sorry.” He apologizes.

“It wasn’t you, it just stings.” You answer feeling a little exposed. All you’re wearing at the moment is a pair of jeans and your bra. “One would think that I would be somewhat used to this, considering how many times I’ve gotten hurt while hunting. Well then again my family cleans wounds with whiskey…”

“Did you guys drink it or was it strictly for first aid purposes?” John asks as he threads a needle, your injury is deep enough that you do need stitches for it.

“It was used as both.” You grimace as John starts stitching your side up. Sherlock walks into the kitchen not paying much heed to the fact you’re currently topless. Then again he’s only in a bed sheet. “Morning Sherlock.”

“Morning.” Sherlock yawns, you take a wild guess that today is going to be incredibly lazy. Since Sherlock had become incredibly popular via the internet he asks John to go to a crime scene after he was done patching you up. Sherlock also insists that John takes his laptop. Once John is done stitching your side up you put on a tank top as John heads out.

You can’t really do anything at the moment because John doesn’t want you to pop the stitches. It’s a little odd that you and Sherlock get an escort of sorts to somewhere, that somewhere just happens to be Buckingham Palace. John’s already there waiting for the two of you. “Are you wearing any pants?” He asks Sherlock once the three of you are sitting down on a nearby couch.

“No.” Sherlock answers before the three of you start to crack up. The three of you make some small talk for a little bit.

“What are we doing here, Sherlock? Seriously, what?” John asks. Sherlock admits he doesn’t know something. “Here to see the queen?” John just happens to ask as Mycroft enters.

“Oh, apparently yes.” Once again the three of you start to laugh. Mycroft doesn’t look amused.

“Just once, can you three behave like grown-ups?” Mycroft demands.

“We solve crimes. I blog about them, he forgets his pants, and she’s the queen of sass, so I wouldn’t hold out too much hope.” John points out with a grin. Once all the laughter has quieted down Mycroft offers Sherlock some clothes… Sherlock doesn’t pay any attention to his brother.

“We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation.” Mycroft then sternly adds: “Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on.” Sherlock literally gets up to leave with a few words towards Mycroft.

“Good morning.” Sherlock states as he starts to walk away- only to have his brother stand on his sheet. That wasn’t a sight you needed to see this early- thankfully the consulting detective catches the sheet before it hits the ground completely. Eventually, Mycroft wins and Sherlock reluctantly gets dressed. Sherlock asks why didn’t Mycroft go to the secret service and if he trusts them.

“Naturally not.” The eldest Holmes replies. “They all spy on people for money.” You and John share a small smile. Apparently, the two of you were on Mycroft’s list of trustworthy people.

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

The doorbell rings and the people at the door are the Doctor and Rose. In all honesty, you’re glad to see them- you need to get away for a little bit. Your flatmates are good people, they just get on your nerves- Sherlock being the main culprit. “Don’t tear those stitches out Y/N.” John states.

“Relax I won’t.” You reply.

“Stitches?” Rose asks.

“Long story short I got shot.” Rose just sighs in response.

“You’re a danger to yourself Y/N.”

“I know Rose. Let’s go before Sherlock drags me in on another case.” With that, the three of you take your leave.

→ ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← →

@the-third-winchester-warrior

@flannels-and-rocksalt

@always-keep-writing-spn

@winchesters-favorite-girl

@caroldanversinatardis

[literal-fand0m-trash]

Psychic Wars Part 11. No Exit Part 2

Note:  I do not own any of the Supernatural characters or stories, but I do own Dakota Winchester. Please leave comments and let me know if you want to be tagged.

Summary: Sequel to Dakota Elizabeth Winchester

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4    Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8  Part 9   Part 10

Masterlist

“Theresa Ellis, apartment 2F. Her boyfriend reported her missing around dawn.” Dean said walking into the livingroom where Sam, Jo, and Dakota were spread out on the floor looking through the information Jo had collected, again.

“How was her apartment?” Jo asked.

“Cracks all in the plaster-ceilings, walls, all of it.” Dean answered.

“Between that, the ectoplasm, and chunk of hair, I’d say the sucker’s coming from the walls.” Dakota said.

“Yeah, but who is it? The building’s history is totally clean.” Dean said.

“Maybe we’re looking in the wrong place.” Jo guessed. “Check this out.” She said handing them a photo.

“It’s the field where the building was built.” Dakota pointed out.

“Take a look at the one next door.” She smirked.

Sam leaned in closer to the paper, “Bars on the windows.”

“We’re next door to a prison?” Dean asked.

……….

Jo stepped out of the room to call Ash and get some information, leaving the three Winchesters to flip through the papers. Jo came back into the room a few minutes later with a spring in her step.

“Moyamensing Prison. Built in 1835, torn down in 1963.” Jo explained.

“Let me guess, 1835, executions in the field?” Dakota guessed.

“Hangings.” Jo confirmed.

“Alright, we need a list of all the people executed in that field.” Sam said.

“Ash is already on it.” Jo said.

Half an hour later, Ash sent them the list and they started looking through it on Sam’s laptop.

“157 names?” Dakota asked in shock.

“We gotta narrow that down or else we’re gonna be digging up a Hell of a lot of stiffs” Dean said.

Sam continued scrolling through then stopped on one name, Herman Webster Mudgett.

“Wasn’t that H. H. Holmes’ real name?” Sam asked.

Dakota sighed and dropped her head.

“You gotta be kidding me.” Dean said.

Sam switched to a new screen and quickly searched it, “Yep. Holmes was executed at Moyamensing May 7, 1896.” He read.

“H. H. Holmes himself.” Dean whispered to himself.

“Come on. I mean, what are the odds?” Dakota asked.

“Who is this guy?” Jo asked.

“The term, ‘multi-murderer’-they coined it to describe Holmes. He was America’s first serial killer before anyone knew what a serial killer was.” Dean explained.

“He confessed to 27 murders, but some put the toll at over 100.” Sam added.

“And his victim flavor of choice, pretty, petite blonds.” Dakota continued.

“He used chloroform to kill them, which is what I smelled in the hallway last night.” Dean said.

“At his house they found bone fragments, and long locks of bloody blond hair.” Sam said.

“So, we just salt and burn the bones, right?” Jo asked.

“That’s the problem. His body is buried in town, but it’s encased in a couple tons of concert.” Dakota explained.

“What? Why?” Jo asked.

“The story goes, he didn’t want anyone mutilating his corpse, ‘cause, you know, it’s what he used to do.” Dean said.                 

“You know something? We might have an even bigger problem than that.” Sam said standing up and leaning over the papers.

“Why? Just, why?” Dakota sighed.

“Holmes build an apartment building in Chicago. They called it Murder Castle. The whole place was a death factory. They had trap doors, acid vats, quicklime pits. He built these secret chambers, inside the walls and kept them locked in there for days so they’d suffocate. Others, he’d let starve to death.”

“So, Theresa might still be alive. She could be in these walls.” Jo said.

“We need sledgehammers, crowbars.” Dean listed. “We need to smash all these walls, anywhere thick enough to hide a girl.”

With that Jo and Dean walked out the door, presumably to get supplies.

“Am I the only one who sees a problem with randomly smashing walls in an apartment complex?” Sam asked.

“No, I see the problem here, too.” Dakota nodded. Taking a sip of her now cold coffee.

……….

Sam and Dakota went to check the Southeast wall on Teresa's floor. Luckily, because of the cracks everywhere in her apartment it was fairly easy to knock a part of the hallway wall down. The space was claustrophobically small, Dakota had to turn sideways to shuffle through with her flashlight in front of her and her EMF reading in her other hand.

They came across a section of piping in the wall that took up half the space and Dakota sighed, “Do we turn back?” She asked.

“I guess.” Sam said and he pulled out his phone to text Dean and Jo.

Dakota judged the small space in front of them, “I can fit through there.”

“What? Are you crazy? You are not going into the walls alone with a serial killer who likes tiny blonds on the loose!” Sam scolded.

“You got a better idea?” She sassed.

As she squeezed through the small space, Sam pulled out a make of the building they had found. Dakota walked along the narrow walkway and turned a corner, cautiously stepping over more piping.

“Where are you now?” Sam called.

“By the south wall.” She answered.

She came to a dead end at the end of the walkway and went to turn back, until she saw a hole in the floor that she could fit through. Realizing she was too far to yell to Sam she pulled out the walkie talkie Dean had given them.

“I found some sort of air duct. I’m going down.” She told him.

“No. No. Stay up here.” Sam instructed.

“We have to find this girl and you can’t fit through her, so I’m going.” She replied.

Sam sighed over the walkie, “Okay, I’m heading to you the long way around.”

Dakota took a deep breath and climbed into the air duct and grabbed onto the ladder that was attached to the wall.

She pulled her flashlight out of her pocket and started walking through the dusty, cobweb covered tunnel until she came to a place where to pipes blocked the path. Grumbling she tried to make herself same enough to fit through, then froze when she smelled something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

She looked at the wall in front of her and saw ectoplasm leaking through the cracks.

“Shit!” She whispered harshly to herself, grabbing the walkie talkie and screaming Sam’s name into it as the world went black.

……….

Dakota woke up to the sound of water dripping and something creaking; she immediately sat up and smacked her head on something causing her to groan and lay back down. After rubbing the new forming bump on her forehead she careful felt out to the sides and realized she was in some kind of box or, God forbid, coffin. She wiggled her hand down with the limited room she had to the extra flashlight in her jean jacket pocket and turned it on.

She shined the light at the ceiling and saw that whatever she was in was made of metal and there were fingernail scratches everywhere causing her to shutter. She looked over to the side and saw some kind of door with two small slits in it that was unsurprisingly locked.

“If I look out this right now is something going to jump out at me?” Dakota asked herself quietly. She leaned toward the “window” as much as she could and saw that there was similar metal container across from her.

Suddenly a door opened and Dakota quickly laid back down.

“Hello?” A girl whispered softly.

“Is anybody there?” Another asked quietly.

“Are you Teresa?” The first voice asked.

“Yes.” Teresa answered.

“Wait? Jo?” Dakota whispered.

“Kota? Are you here, too?” The first voice, Jo’s voice asked.

“Yes. Teresa, this won’t make you feel better, but Jo and I are here to rescue you.” Dakota said.

“We’re normally better at our job than this.” Jo promised.

Teresa let out a quiet sob, “Oh God, he’s out there. He’s going to kill us!” “No he won’t! We’re getting out.” Jo said.

“My brothers are looking for us.” Dakota added.

“Quite!” Teresa commanded and Dakota shut her mouth in time to her footsteps coming towards them.

Dakota held completely still until a hand shot into her box and grabbed on to her hair causing her to scream and thrash until a chunk of her wavy blond hair came out in his hands. She bit her lip as she cradled the part of her head that was now bleeding, listening to Jo scream as her hair was ripped out too.

Soon H. H. Holmes showed back up infront of her box and started whispered, “You’re so pretty. So beautiful.”

“Go to Hell.” Dakota said as she slowly reached down to grab her iron knife she keep in her shoe.

A hand slowly reached into the box and Dakota shoved herself as back as she could, but the arm still reached her and began to caress her arm and once it got down to her hand she pulled the knife and sliced the hand making it disappear.

“How do you like that! Lined with iron you creepy-ass son of a bitch!” Dakota yelled.

“Is he gone?” Teresa asked.

“I don’t know. Jo, if you can reach your knife keep it out and ready.” Dakota instructed.

Jo screamed and then it was suddenly muffled and Dakota realized Holmes must have her.

“Leave her alone you bastard!” Dakota yelled.

“Hey!” A voice Dakota instantly recognized as Dean called out and she breathed a sigh of relief as a gunshot fired.

“Guys! We’re in here! Me, Teresa, and Jo! We’re all here.” Dakota called out.

She heard two of the doors creak open before her door was opened and light shined in her face from Dean’s flashlight.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She promised.

“Let’s get the Hell out of here before he comes back.” Jo said.

“Actually, I don’t think we’re leaving just yet.” Dean said.

“Please tell your not planning what I think you’re planning.” Dakota said looking at Sam who shrugged as he held up a weak looking Teresa.

“Remember when I said being bait was a bad plan?” Dean asked rhetorically, “Now it’s kind of the only one we got.”

“Why can’t Dakota do it!” Jo said.

“Hey!” Dakota cried out.

“If we just use one of you, he might come from the other and we can’t risk that.” Sam explained.

………..

Dakota and Jo sat back to back in the center of what Sam and Dean had explained was a sewer system.

“Kota.” Jo whispered and Dakota turned her head to see Holmes standing in the shadows.

“Down.” Dean yelled and Dakota and Jo ducked as the guys fired at the ceiling letting bags of salt fall in a perfect circle around them. Holmes started screaming and Dakota and Dean raced out the door slamming it behind them.

“Scream all you want, there’s no way you’re stepping over that salt!” Jo yelled as they turned to the tunnel that would lead them out of the sewers.

Once they were back on ground Dakota and Jo were sitting on the ground while Sam stood nearby; Dean had run off to grab something very secretly.

“So, is the job as glamorous as you thought it would be?” Sam asked.

“Well, except for all the pee-your-pants terror, yeah.” Jo answered, “But Teresa’s going to live a life ‘cause of us. It’s worth it, isn’t it.”

“Yeah. Sometimes it is.” Dakota nodded.

“Hey, what if someone finds that sewer down there, or a storm washes the salt away?” Jo asked.

“Both very fine points which is why we’re waiting here.” Sam answered.

“For what?” Dakota asked as a beeping noise started behind them. She turned around and saw a cement truck backing up towards them.

“How?” Dakota asked as Dean got out of the truck and Sam started lowering the spout into the entrance to the tunnel.

“I’ll give it back.” Dean promised.

“You ripped off a cement truck?” Jo asked and Dean shrugged.

……….

The car ride back to Nebraska was incredibly uncomfortable, both due to the fact Sam, Jo, and Dakota were all squished in the back seat and also because a very pissed off Ellen was sitting in the passenger’s seat. Sam and Dean had explained after returning the cement truck that Ash had flipped on them and that Ellen was flying out.

“Well, you-you really weren’t kidding about flying out, were you?” Dean tried to joke.

When he was met with silence Dakota saw him slowly lean over and try to turn on the radio, but Ellen smacked his hand away. Jo turned to Dakota and raised her eyebrows.

“This is going to be a long drive.” Dakota whispered.

When they got back to the Roadhouse the next morning Ellen physically grabbed Jo’s arm and dragged her in.

“Ellen, I’m sorry. It was my fault. I lied to you and I’m sorry. But Jo did amazing out there.” Dakota said.

“I think her dad would be proud of her.” Dean added and Dakota’s eyes widened.

“Don’t you dare say that! Not you!” Ellen snapped. “I need a moment with my daughter, alone.”

“Actually, I think it’s best if we head out now. Tell Ash ‘hi’ for us.” Dakota said before grabbing the boys by their arms and leading them out.

“What was that about?” Sam asked.

“Jo’s dad had a pretty strict policy about not working with other hunters, but one day this friend of his really needed his help, so Jo’s dad, Will, let this other hunter use him as bait in their trap and Will didn’t make it. The other person he teamed up with was Dad. Ellen barely spoke to me for a year after that and Dad wasn’t allowed back in the Roadhouse. I don’t think Ellen ever forgave him, and by association us.” Dakota explained.

“But you two seem fine now.” Dean pointed out.

Dakota sighed, “After y’all took off for Stanford and to hunt on your own I stuck around with Dad for maybe six months before...something happened and I took off. I had no idea where you was so I found myself at the Roadhouse and Ellen took me in. I stayed with them for six months before meeting back up with Dean and then it was only another six-seven months till we got Sam.” Dakota explained.

Tags:

@one-giggling-unic0rn   @skeletoresinthebasement

[lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean]

La Pomme ~ Chapter Six

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 6,200

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

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

Approximately three hours of arguing with herself about staying away from them later, George went to see if Jack and Sam had returned yet. She reasoned that, at this point, they'd been so adamant about her coming that staying away altogether would probably raise a larger red flag than if she just made a quick appearance.

That's not true! I'm just going so that they don't come looking for me. This is definitely the last time. Once I get the kid set up on the games, he'll forget I exist. Then I can slip back to my as-yet-undiscovered-room and wait quietly for Rowena to return and return me home. Everything will be fine. This has nothing to do with the beard.

I have to go to keep seeming uninteresting and innocuous, She reasoned with herself, though she knew it was dangerous. It was also not the real reason she was going.

There was no part of her that believed any of that. Especially as her heart fluttered at the thought of bearded Sam in that tight, gray deep v-neck.

First, she stopped in the kitchen to grab two beers from the fridge. Then she went to check Jack's room. As she walked up to the open door, she heard the two men talking.

"I don't understand why you don't want to tell me what happened." She heard Jack say.

Sam's annoyed huff made her pause, "I did tell you; nothing happened. She passed out exhausted and I didn't know where else to put her. There are so many new people here right now, I don't know what's an empty bed and what's not."

"OK…" She heard Jack's doubtful reply and then a pause before asking, "If Brent had passed out in your arms, would you have carried him to your bed?"

George grinned devilishly at the implication of the question, covering her mouth with her hand to stay quiet. There was a long, intriguing silence before Sam ordered defensively, "Shut up."

George decided to take that as her cue. She stepped into the doorway and cleared her throat, "'Shut up,' huh? Interesting parenting philosophy." She smirked as Sam started a bit and looked over at her. Presumably, he was wondering how much of that conversation she'd heard, and she felt in no hurry to fill him in.

Jack smiled at her and pointed to a surprising amount of booty on his bed and the floor in front of it, "George! They had everything on your list! Oh, except Mario 64."

Looks like the shoe's on the other foot, She thought smugly.

"Wow, really?" Her eyes went wide when she saw the small flat screen TV box leaning against the footboard and she looked at Sam with a surprised chuckle. She guessed Sam really wanted to keep Jack occupied. "And you bought it all, I see, awesome! Did you want some help setting up?"

"Yea, come in!" Jack nodded enthusiastically, waving her in, and then began unpacking his loot. George hesitated for a second as Sam watched Jack lay out all the equipment to start getting it set up.

Bitch, I don't know why you're taking pause now! You brought the damn beer. You planned this; just go in already.

With a quick, annoyed shake of her head to quiet the smug voices, she finally stepped into the room.

When she got close to him, Sam smiled, "Hey."

"Hi," George returned his smile nervously. "I don't remember that being on my list," Sam followed her gaze to the flat screen and then squirmed a bit, guiltily. Motioning to the rest of the stuff, she asked with a chuckle, "Feeling a little bit of dad guilt over something?"

Sam feigned ignorance, "Hmm?"

"I mean, OK, you needed the system and some games but…" Her eyes ran over the huge pile of game cartridges on the bed, wide with judgement. "And the TV? Kinda screams single-divorced-dad overcompensation. And I speak from experience."

"Oh, are you a divorced single dad, too?" Sam joked.

George snorted and corrected, "Raised by one… well, on Wednesdays and every other weekend. And he worked weekends… and most Wednesdays, so…" She trailed off with a what-are-you-gonna-do shrug and Sam nodded, understanding the semi-absent dad thing.

"I can definitely relate to the unavailable father," Sam's tone was serious but there was a smile on his face.

George stared at him curiously for a minute, Supernatural episodes flashing in her mind, and then nodded, "Oh, yeah, I guess you can." She was still getting used to television characters being real people. When he furrowed his brow curiously at her, she quickly said, "Anyway, yea, uh-expensive presents helped ease my dad's guilt about not really being there. That's how I got most of my video game experience." Just as he opened his mouth to respond, she held out a beer with a questioning look and said, "I think I owe you one or two of these? Although, seeing as this one is also from your fridge, think of this as more of a symbolic gesture. Since I can't actually repay you."

He chuckled and took the beer with a soft, "Thank you. And, no repayment needed. Trust me, we're just happy to be able to help. All of you." He was referring to the people from the camp again and she grimaced as a twinge of guilt zapped through her. Lying to him made her feel awful.

While it seemed like Jack was focused on unboxing the TV and not paying much attention to them, she held up the other beer and asked quietly, "Can he? I wasn't sure if you let him, but I brought it just in case."

Sam frowned a little and shrugged, "My brother lets him and I… choose my battles," he finished with a sigh. George smiled and nodded understandingly.

Seeing Jack was still preoccupied, she shrugged after a moment and offered, "Well, I don't normally drink beer but I can just say it's mine? He may not even ask for one."

Sam nodded appreciatively, snapping the bottle cap off his and tossing it into the garbage can in the corner. As she watched him raise the cold bottle to his lips, she couldn't help but stare at his gorgeous, newly bearded face. As he took a swig, her mouth went dry. Luckily, she was able to look away just before he caught her staring and she mentally kicked herself.

He raised an eyebrow at her when he noticed she didn't join him. Setting his drink down on the desk next to him, he reached out to take the unopened beer from her. "Ya know, it's more believable that you're drinking it, if it's actually open?"

"Oh, right," She let out a 'heh' of embarrassment as he popped the cap off and tossed it into the can as well. Taking it back from him, she admitted, "Like I said, not a big beer drinker."

With a teasing expression, he said, "Hmm… but really anything you drink out of a bottle has to be opened first, right?"

She blushed and smirked at his ribbing. Forcing herself not to laugh with all her might-made more difficult by the fact that she could see him trying not to smirk-she simply said, "Well, like I said, I was a latchkey kid. I typically drink strictly from the garden hose."

Jack finally looked over at them, finished plugging the TV in, and called to her, "George, come check the games!"

She grinned at the small "HA!" he let out at her joke. With a small, mental shrug, she lifted the beer and took a swig.

Fuck it, maybe it'll help calm my nerves. She then heard a smug sing-songy voice say, famous last words.

She walked over and looked at the cartridges that were laid out on his bed, "Nice! Oh, no way! Perfect Dark?!" She picked up the game and clutched it excitedly, "I totally forgot about this one!"

"Yea, I picked up a couple extras that weren't on the list. I hope that's OK, they just looked interesting," Jack said nervously.

"Of course it's OK! You might end up hating my game suggestions-not that that's possible because I have the best taste, obviously, but still. I'm glad you have a few to try on your own." Her grin increased as she looked at the game in her hand again, getting lost down memory lane for a moment. This game had gotten her through some rough patches.

She set it down and glanced over the few that were unfamiliar to her. "These ones I've never played before, so that'll be great. You'll get to actually figure out a few on your own."

"Will it be hard?" He wondered.

"Probably. And you'll most likely get so frustrated that you'll want to tear your hair out and throw the console against a wall. But, it'll be so freaking fun you can't stop. As Charles Dickens said, 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times'."

Sam laughed, picking his beer back up and taking another drink. George couldn't help but grin, drinking hers as well.

Damn if I'm not addicted to that sound.

While Jack was trying to get the console set up, he struggled to hook the system up to the small flat screen he'd placed on his dresser. George came over to help. After a moment, she identified the problem.

Holding up the console's composite cable she huffed, "This TV doesn't have RCA ports!"

"What?!" Sam 'pffted,' coming over to check it, running his hands along the back. When he found nothing, he stood back and put his hands on his hips, "Are you saying we're actually going to have to use our crappy old TVs for this?" He shook his head in disbelief.

George shrugged, "Eh, at least it gives him an authentic experience?"

A short while later they had the system set up on an old tube set and the three of them were playing a few rounds of Mario Kart 64. Jack was sitting cross legged on the edge of his bed. On the floor to his left was Sam, slouching against the bed with his legs stretched out long in front of him. George was to his right, with her knees bent and her feet planted on the ground, sitting straighter upright but also leaning against the bed.

In terms of play, all three were taking it serious. George was a little rusty but her muscle memory helped her quickly grab and keep first place almost every round. Jack was picking it up surprisingly quick but struggled with the strategic aspect of trap setting and disabling opponents. Sam needed a lap to get used to the buttons, but was now smoking Jack and catching up to George with ease.

At the moment they were in the middle of the second lap of their fourth round. Surprising everyone except George and Sam (because they threw it), Jack had won the first round and was very proud of himself. Unfortunately for Jack, he got a little too proud of himself. Her competitive side had roared to life at his boisterous celebration and the boys ate George's dust on the second and third rounds.

Sober George would have known better than to agree to another round. She would never admit it, but Sam had been hot on her tail the entire last round; he'd definitely be able to beat her by the next one. Unfortunately for her, she'd already finished her second beer and was feeling real cocky when they'd both demanded another round of her.

She had warned dramatically, "Alright, but if you're gonna take a shot at the Queen, you better not miss."

George was fairly far out in front and feeling great, when Sam's Peach shot a red shell at her Yoshi and she wasn't able to avoid it. As her Yoshi tumbled, George watched Peach fly past her into first place, a string of inventive curses flew out of her mouth, explaining in detail exactly where she thought Sam could put his red shells. He couldn't help but give her a quick, amused 'wtf' expression at her colorful vocabulary but she was too busy mashing her buttons to get back in gear again.

Just as she was gaining back on him, she gasped when Yoshi flipped over again. Another red shell.

"The FU-JACK!?" Her jaw dropped at Jack, whose Mario drove by and was now in second place. George let out a frustrated screech as the two men high fived each other over Sam's shoulder.

"Looks like we didn't miss, your royal highness," Sam teased, then dodged a kick to the shin with an evil laugh.

When Yoshi was upright and ready to go again, she pressed the A button down so hard her finger turned white. Pulling out all the stops to try and catch up to them again, she finally hit a mystery box. It took all her might to refrain from jumping for joy when three red shells appeared around her kart. Neither Jack nor Sam had noticed. Falsely confident that they'd disabled her, they'd devolved from their joint effort to take her down and were now going against each other. Jack lucked into hitting Sam with a tossed banana peel but Sam was able to out maneuver him on the next few turns and had scooted ahead again already.

George continued to gain on them, using her memory of the course to cut every corner she could and climb her way back up to third place. Sam and Jack were neck and neck, nearing the finish line on the final lap, and smack talking each other. They were barely paying attention to her and she waited for just the right time, before mashing her trigger button. Her red shells launched rapid fire. She watched with glee as Peach and Mario flipped over and stalled mere feet from the finish line.

As Yoshi sailed past them both and crossed in first place, George leapt up from her spot on the floor in triumph, "YES!" Sam and Jack flinched in pain; they were pretty sure everyone in the bunker had heard that.

"Tried to take me out, huh?" She asked Sam, then turned to Jack, "Didn't think I could get back up, did you? How ya like me now?" They were both trying to hide their annoyed grins and she continued, "You want to know why I always play Yoshi? Because he ain't a BITCH, and Neither. Am. I." She mic-dropped her controller onto the bed and did a victory dance in place. "Both. Of. Y'all. Can. SUuuUUuuUUuck. IiiiiIIiIIiiiIIiiit!" She sang joyfully, punching her arms into the air.

"Suck what?" Jack mumbled at Sam in exasperation, bummed that he'd lost again.

"Er-Nothing. It's just a saying, don't worry about it," The other man assured with a nervous throat clearing.

George quickly stepped over Sam's outstretched legs to the open space at the foot of Jack's bed. Jutting out her hip and placing a firm hand on it, she promptly began cat walking back and forth while singing, "Walk, walk, fashion baby. Work it. Move. That Bitch cuh-ray-zee." Jack was far more annoyed at losing than Sam, but they were both incredibly amused at her flamboyant, over-the-top reaction.

Sam watched her display with a smile and, after a moment, commented, "OK, Cindy Crawford, I'm cutting you off."

Pausing her catwalking to victory dance in front of him, she then lobbed, "And why? Don't like having your ass handed to you by a drunk woman?"

"You LUCKED out with all those red shells, George!" Jack argued defiantly.

"Now, now, Jack. Don't be a sore loser," George admonished jokingly, still wiggling her hips in delight.

"Yea, you're clearly only allowed to be a sore winner around here," Sam said pointedly with a chuckle. When George froze mid victory dance, her butt no longer bouncing in front of him, Sam regretted saying anything.

She scrunched her nose at him in offense, holding her hands up in surrender, "OK, fine. Yes. If it hadn't been for those red shells I would have been in third place."

Sam gave her a smug grin and said, "That's right."

She continued sweetly, "And obviously Jack would have won." A triumphant smile spread on Jack's face and he nodded his head in gracious acceptance of her determination.

"Thank you, yes-wait, what?" Sam started to agree with her and then it registered what she'd actually said. He did a double take. She knew darn well Sam would have won that round, but the smirk on her face told him she'd never admit it. Curiously, he was as turned on as he was infuriated.

Then, George added, "But the entire game is luck, dude! Most video games are. If you can't handle this, I would stay away from Mario Party," She warned in a serious tone.

Jack and Sam exchanged a serious look, then looked back at George. They had the same determined expression and Jack said, "Let's do it," while Sam nodded in agreement. He was having fun for the first time in weeks.

Maybe months, he thought grimly. He also hoped she'd say yes so he could do everything in his power to make her win and score another full frontal victory dance.

George laughed a little and nodded, "Alright. But don't say I didn't warn you. It's fun as hell, but no one wins at Mario Party. No. One," She finished ominously.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom before we keep going," Jack got up and headed for the door. He turned back with a thoughtful look on his face and said, "I might go to the kitchen for some snacks, too. Do you want anything?"

George shrugged, "Well, here's the situation Jack: I'm gonna say no but I will most likely steal some of whatever you bring back. So, I would say just accommodate for that and you should be golden."

Sam chuckled and said out of the corner of his mouth, "There's a life lesson in women if I've ever heard one." He avoided acknowledging the dirty look she shot him and shook his head at Jack, "Nothing for me, thanks."

After Jack left, George gave Sam a suspicious look and teased, "No more beer? Hmm, I see what you're doing."

Sam gave her a 'feigned innocence' expression and murmured, "Hmm?"

"You can stop drinking all you want; I can beat you, sober or not," Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave him a mean mug.

He chuckled, but said, "Truthfully, asking Jack to bring me a beer felt a little-"

"Alcoholic single dad?" George finished with a laugh and he joined her, nodding in agreement.

"Right," Sam pointed a quick finger in the air. "Not a great look," He said, standing up with a groan. "Yikes, shouldn't have been slouching like that. The older I get the less forgiving my back is."

"Have you ever tried a massage?" She asked, almost absentmindedly as she was distracted by him. His full height always took her breath away at first; she loved it.

Sam considered her question for a moment. Looking her over appreciatively, he asked with a teasingly incredulous tone, "No. Why, are you offering?"

That snapped George out of her stupor and she blinked rapidly. Thinking she hadn't heard him correctly, she asked "Oh, what? Oh, no! Er-I-I mean, I just, I wouldn't know where to begin. What? No, I mean I wouldn't know what I was doing. Not-no, I know what I'm doing I just-I'm not a professional. I-" Stop talking. Stop talking, now! George felt a bit warm and started fanning herself, "Hoo d'awgy, is it hot in here or just me? Maybe you should cut me off," She finished with a nervous laughter.

He had watched her nervous, adorable rambling gleefully, chuckling once or twice. Whenever he was near her, an eerie pressure would build in his chest that was reminiscent of feelings he'd thought were long since lost to him. He realized it was that feeling that spurred him on to be so flirtatious. At her last statement though, he reigned himself in and answered her question more earnestly to help break the tension and give her a chance to calm down, "I'm not so big on strangers touching me. And I worry about how sanitary those places are," he finished with an exaggerated shudder.

It had been kind of him to cut her a break, but when he started stretching out the kinks from his prolonged seat on the floor, any chance she had of calming down disappeared. She couldn't help but admire his physique. Her eyes trailed his body once over but then quickly settled back on his beard. She could kill the show producers for not letting him be bearded sooner than Season 14. 'Smoldering' didn't even begin to cover it.

She hadn't realized that she'd gotten lost in thought about those sexy whiskers until she heard his throat clearing. Widening in horror, her eyes quickly met his, which looked half amused, half curious.

With a lick of his lips, which made George's brows furrow with desire, he asked gently, "Is there something on my face?"

"No!" Gulping, she blushed from head to toe. After thinking about it for a split second, she heard a buzzed voice in her head say fuck it, you've already embarrassed yourself. Tilting her head to the side, she boldly proclaimed, "Well, actually…Yeah!" A nervous chuckle escaped her lips as she tried to figure out how to say this without giving anything away. In her inebriated state, she finally settled on, "The last time I saw you, your face was less… Hagrid?"

Sam let out a loud laugh, a look of mock offense on his face. She covered her mouth as she snickered, realizing maybe that wasn't the nicest thing to say.

"Oh, wow! Hagrid, huh? I… Well, I'm not sure how to take that. Maybe I should go shave real quick," He teased sadly, rubbing a slow hand over his beard. It made her weak kneed.

"No! Please don't! I'm sorry," She leaned forward and gently squeezed his forearm with both her hands, then let go. "I was just trying to make you laugh! And I couldn't think of an attractive bearded man reference fast enough; Hagrid was the next best thing."

"Nah, you're right. Hagrid was good; you had to do it," He shrugged in acceptance. Squinting at her curiously, he asked, "But, just to clarify, you don't think I look like Hagrid, right?"

She snorted and then looked unsure. As she spoke she slowly craned her neck up, "Well, now that you mention it, he was half-giant!" Another laugh escaped him and she bit her lip to keep from grinning. The sound mixed with the beer was lowering her inhibitions a bit and she ran her eyes over him quickly in appreciation. Before she could stop herself, she assured him, "Seriously, though. The beard looks good. You look…" All the descriptions she could think of were too inappropriate even for her less inhibited state. Finally, she breathed, her eyes wide for emphasis, "good."

Sam gave her a shy, sexy smile and he looked down at the ground for a minute. She could swear the skin of his cheeks near the top of his beard was slightly pink.

Was he hiding a blush behind all that rugged? George wondered, watching him closely. Her stomach was nearly painfully tingling with nausea; she knew she should stop but fuck, when was she ever going to get this opportunity again?

Sam looked back up at her, the look in his eyes making her gulp, and asked with a questioning shrug, "'Good,' huh?"

George could tell he was baiting her but unfortunately her rational side was beating her horny/ buzzed side back with a stick, trying to keep control. So, she simply nodded and gave him a flirty smile, confirming, "Yes. Good." The word came out as a painful purr that caused Sam's eyes to darken curiously. George unconsciously licked her lips; it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

"Hmm," was the noise that broke the silence finally, rumbling heavily from Sam's chest. He was feeling very conflicted. For one, the alcohol was obviously affecting her and he wasn't trying to take advantage. But also, she was causing him to feel a lot of intense and strange feelings, feelings that hadn't been stirred up in years, and he couldn't explain why. He'd just met her! Knew almost nothing about her, yet he was flirting with her left, right, and center like he was… well, Dean! It felt so comfortable around her; he felt a calming sense of ease, as though his life wasn't a giant crapshoot of terrible day in and day out. That feeling should have been foreign to him but it wasn't completely. That's what terrified and confused him.

They'd been staring intensely at each other. George thought it seemed like he was holding himself back; she recognized the look and assumed it was the same one on her face right now. Running a suddenly nervous hand through his hair, he huffed a little and smiled.

"Well… thank you," His tone sounded as sincere as it did nervous. "I-"

Just then Jack came back and broke the tension in the room. George released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and turned to look at him. Balancing in his arms were two packs of red vines, one large bag of peanut M&Ms, six beef jerky sticks, two 'sharin' size' bags of Cheetos, and four Yoohoos.

The intensity of the previous moment paired with the absurd amount of food made her exclaim, "Dude!" The laughter bubbled out of her before she could stop it; she got near tears. Sam joined her with distinct but far less intense chuckles at Jack's attempts to interpret George's earlier instructions.

"What?" Jack asked curiously, "You asked me to account for you wanting some! I figured it was more efficient to just bring you your own."

"Ah, yes, a classic mistake, Jack. Half the fun is eating the other person's food," Sam teased.

George shook her head and sighed out the last of her laughter, "Oh, man. That was great. OK, I have to pee and then we'll have a talk about appropriate food portions before the game. Also, the fact that you brought peanut M&Ms and not caramel is near criminal."

Sam followed her out the door, saying, "I think I've changed my mind on that beer. I'll be right back, too."

"Grab me one?" She requested over her shoulder and he nodded affirmatively.

On her way back to Jack's room, George was wringing her hands nervously. Her mind was racing; she'd barely been able to concentrate on peeing! There was a heated debate going on in her head about what the hell she thought she was doing. A very large, very selfish part of her had not wanted to hold herself back. But she was skating on thin ice. Thin? Try imaginary! You seriously believe Sam Winchester is flirting with you? You have lost your damn mind. You look like a bumbling moron to him. A total Becky! Not to mention, he's a 10 and you're an Idaho six, if we're being generous.

The unnecessarily hurtful arguing in her head silenced instantly when she rounded the corner and found Sam in the hallway, sans beer. He was nervously pacing about 6 feet from Jack's room. She gulped; he looked agitated all of a sudden. Was he about to give her a talk about being inappropriate and how they should just "be friends?" She heard a voice sing-song in her head: I told you so, six.

Forcing herself to move forward once again, she tried to steal herself for the blow. To her surprise, his expression shifted to regret when he noticed her finally.

"Hey," He started, his tone apologetic. "I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but-" he held up his phone with a grimace.

"You have a hunt," George finished slowly with an understanding-and incredibly relieved-head nod. She watched Sam glance back at Jack's room with sad eyes. It clicked after a moment and she added with a less understanding tone, "And you want me to keep Jack distracted while you go?"

Sam gave her an adorable, pleading face, "Yes, please? I already broke the news to him and he's… upset about not being able to come."

George frowned, "Dude, are you seriously leaving me here by myself to entertain him? Sam!" She stomped her foot quietly, mock upset, "I don't know anything about what young adults are into these days. SnapChat? Four Loco? Miley Cyrus?!"

"Hey, look at this as an opportunity to finally play those real deep cuts from Avril," Sam joked back and George punched his arm gently; both laughed.

"OK, but really, do you have any tips for how to handle a teenage boy who's pissed because he can't go kill things?" She looked nervously toward Jack's room. "How do I cheer him up?"

"Well, I think we both know what you're going to have to do," Sam said with a deep, apologetic sigh. George raised an eyebrow curiously. Sam raised both of his and widened his eyes with a pointed head tilt in response. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she began to see where he was going with this and his head started nodding slowly.

"No," George said matter of factly, starting to shake her head. "No!"

"Look, I know it's not ideal, but-"

"I refuse!" She dug her heels in and her arms crossed over her chest.

"Now, now," He began in the same tone you would use to speak to a toddler. "You asked how to make him happy."

"I am not going to debase myself like that, Sam. No!"

"Listen, I know it's hard! But you've done it once already! Was it really tha-"

"Horrible! You of all people should understand why this is a terrible thing to ask! You had to do it once, too!" She uncrossed her arms and pointed at him, demanding, "Look me in the eye and tell me a little piece of your soul didn't die the last time?"

"Oh it wasn't that bad," Sam rolled his eyes dramatically.

"That's easy for you to say, Sam! You're bad at it! But, I have a reputation to protect!"

"OK, Kinicki, well if you want Jack to have fun, you're going to have to suck it up and let him win at Mario Kart!" When she huffed, shaking her head in continued defiance, he rolled his eyes and offered a compromise, "Every once in a while!"

After a few moments of mean mugging each other, neither one willing to give in, they both just started laughing. Once their laughter died down, he gave her a serious, apologetic expression and said, "Georgia, I really am sorry to do this… I was having fun."

As he used her full name, she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. With a gentle shake of her head, she waved him off, "Don't be sorry; you have to go. And truly, I don't mind. Jack's actually a pretty cool kid…" She trailed off and then furrowed her brow in mock concern, "or am I a lame adult?"

He chucked, then shrugged and said, "Well, if you are then I am."

"Good thing Dean didn't hear you say that," She joked, shooting a finger gun at him. The look on his face in response was indiscernible and she kicked herself. "Shit, sorry. That was insensitive. With Michael and everything, I-I didn'-"

Sam waved his hand in the air and cut her off, "Nah, I know you didn't mean anything by it. I was just thinking how accurate the statement was, yet… you haven't met Dean, right?"

Her eyebrows went up in sobered surprise. Shit. She gulped and stuttered out, "Oh-right-no, that's right. I haven't… I-I just, uh, I know what it's like to have a big brother! He's-he is your big brother, right? I mean, I think I've heard Jack or someone say that…" Sam's brows furrowed further, looking at her curiously and nodding slowly in confirmation. "Right, well, yea. I just-I figured since Dean was your big brother, he'd relish the opportunity to make a comment about you being a loser. I know my brother certainly lived for it." She felt like he could tell she was sweating and it made her sweat more.

"Uh huh," Sam said with a slow drawl, not entirely convinced.

As George watched him she became less nervous, realizing that there was a lot of pain behind his bright hazel eyes. It was obvious that he was really worried about his brother; her heart twinged in empathy.

Without thinking, she placed a hand on his forearm and gripped tightly. With a comforting smile she promised, "Don't worry, Sam. You'll find Dean soon."

Sam felt as if the wind knocked out of his lungs as an intense burst of deja vu hit him. It couldn't be… that had been a dream. A fake dream at that! All part of the trickster's mind games trying to get him to give up on saving Dean. Obviously, there was no way this was the same woman. Yet he knew he'd heard that consolation before. From her, he felt sure. But how would he have dreamt about a woman from an alternate reality?

She jumped when she heard someone shout from down the hall, "Sam!"

George was panicking internally. He'd flinched at her words and the look on his face made her sick to her stomach. She let go of his arm quickly. Had she gone too far? Had she offended him? Was he just disgusted at being touched by her? A million thoughts raced through her mind as a cold sweat broke out on her forehead.

Sam snapped out of his stupor and furrowed his brow a bit. "COMING!" He boomed in their direction and then looked back at her in apology. Though he still seemed perturbed by something.

George smiled understandably, eternally grateful for the interruption, and began before he could say anything, "You have to go! I'll keep an eye on Jack for a while longer. But I swear to God if he starts trying to talk to me about Fortnite or TikTok or FOOTBALL: I'm. Out."

Sam had moved around her, slowly starting to head for the map room, "Football?"

"I just really hate sports," She deadpanned with a shrug, turning her body around to follow him.

He chucked and nodded, "Ah. Noted." He bowed to her slightly as he backed away, "Well, Thank you again. I owe you a beer now… or maybe a massage?" He offered innocently, adding, "I may not be a professional, but I definitely know what I'm doing." He watched just long enough to see her jaw drop, then with a wink, he turned and left.

When she'd mopped herself up from the floor and had finally started breathing again, George looked up to the ceiling and begged, "I have thirty five thousand dollars in savings and retirement and it's all yours for a copy!"

[sama1314]

What’s With Our Family? (Part 2)

What’s With Our Family? (Part 1)

2: Humans and Demons, What's Worse?

? x WinchesterSister!OC

Word count: 2,732

Warnings: Slight mentions of death but that’s just normal

WWOF Masterlist

Date posted: 17/5/17

Hibbing, Minnesota. Reports of missing people had a higher average than usual so the boys thought we'd call by and see what was up. After talking to the boy who saw a man disappear under a car and not return we ended up regrouping at a local bar.

We went over all the information we had and finished our drinks. Tired I went back out to the car while Dean flirted a little bit, Sam followed me. When we reached the Impala we heard a weird noise, sharing a silent look we went opposite ways around one car. My ankles were suddenly grabbed causing me to fall onto my butt, a yelp of surprise fled my lips and when Sam called out there was a thud that followed him. The last thing I remember was yelling Dean's name as I was pulled under the car. Black was the next thing I saw.

~** **~

"Rose! Wake up!"

A voice called me back from the black void I was in.

"Sam?"

"Rose, you're awake! Thank god."

I manage to take a look around me. Of all the things I did not expect to be locked in a cage with Sam. The cage barely had enough room to move with the both of us in it. We looked like we were in a rundown shed too. That's when I noticed a man in another cage beside us.

"Is he awake?"

"I think he isn't far from coming around."

"Bloody hell. I doubt this is our type of case..."

"You don't say."

Suddenly the man next to us woke up and started moving around and yelling. After Sam started talking to him he calmed down. We found out he was the missing man from this town, the one we were looking for.

Sam, only able to reach so far started playing with the wiring on the electrical cages.

"Careful Sammy, don't need ya having a shock on top of this crap."

"Shut up."

He scoffed at me. The man in the cage started talking again when his cage's lock opened with a bang.

"Was that you Sammy?"

"I'm not sure..."

I sighed. I doubt Sam had the luck to break the wiring to open the cage. It was probably done on purpose. Therefore I was lead to the conclusion that this spelt trap.

"Hey man, I'd play your cards right and sit tight."

"Like hell, I'm staying here! I'll get out and find you two help!"

At that he took off, Sam and my protests falling into the now empty room. After sharing a look with Sam I look at the door to the cage when it suddenly slammed shut, the lock clicking back in place.

"Oh no..."

I whisper. Sam put his hand on my shoulder as we probably shared the same thought. A gunshot a few minutes later confirmed out thoughts as reality.

"Okay Sammy, I don't like cages but I like games much less. It's best to wait it out in here even if our doors opens, at least until we get a firm grip on our situation."

"Wise words."

I scoffed at him when the humour faded from my face a frown replaced it. All I could sense was humans outside. I didn't like it one bit.

~** **~

"This woman, she's the cop, Sammy!"

I gasp out as the cop, I think her name is Kathleen, jumps awake.

"You two... You two are with that Dean! He is worried sick!"

"Same."

I mutter quietly. Not that I would vocalise it but I'm sure I could sense Dean inside the house nearby. These people were sick. That's when I noticed someone was approaching.

Sam and mine's gate opened up and a man pointed a gun in at us.

"Kay, Girly, out ya come. Nice 'nd easy right?"

I gulped.

"What happened to Dean first?"

"We gave him a choice he chose the boy to go first. You little lady, however, get to come with me."

If it were the tone in his voice or my rising temper I'm not sure what triggered me the most.

"You know what. I missed kicking the shit outta things!"

I grow as I push the barrel of the gun to my side of the cage as I jump forwards. A gunshot from the man and a few kicks and punches from me later and Sam and I are trying to free Kathleen from her cage.

As we got it open I stole the man's rifle. Now I could sense the rest of the family coming over.

"Get ready guys, also who shoots straighter than me when moving?"

"Give it to Kathleen."

Sam and I knew we could handle ourselves and by god, I hope a cop could handle herself but I handed the gun over anyway.

~** **~

It took a while but we finally had all the family members tied up or dead. The teen girl that we had got alive kept shooting me dirty glares, I had no clue why.Kathleen picked up on my unease about her.

"You meet her before?"

"Never but she's giving me this look..."

The child cuts in.

"You were ‘menna be my big sis’."

I choked on my spit that leads to my coughing and Kathleen patting my back.

"I don't want to know what I just avoided."

"To be quite honest I glad nothing happened. Your brother was really worried too."

"That's the type of family we are."

I smiled at her.

"I heard some general conversation about these guys taking your kid, sorry to hear that."

"It's alright."

Kathleen spoke louder

"You lot should get out of here before the cops come."

"See ya, Kathleen."

I wave at her as we take our long ass walk back to the Impala that was back in town.

~** **~

Chicago, Illinois. A girl who was murdered ripped to shreds with all the locks and security alarm still on. Sam was dead convinced that this was our type of case. I believed it was but not a good kind of case to be on.

I went to the police station first while the boys went to the house. When we regrouped at a bar we covered all the info we got.

The lady was killed in locked door, her heart was gone and a strange symbol could be made out on the carpet. Great. Did I mention the bar we were at it is the one the lady, Meredith the one who was killed, worked here?

Sam randomly stutters some crap excuse and walks away from us over... to a girl. Dean and I share a look before we head over.

By the time I could get anywhere near what the fuck was happening the chick had chewed out Dean bombarding him with insults about dragging Sam all around the country. Then she turned to me.

"The missing sister I presume."

I blink at her.

"Hi."

"You, while your little brother is being forced across the country you do what, run away on your own little holiday?"

I put my finger up to her lips before she could go into an another bout of ranting.

"Sush. I'm not taking bullshit today little miss."

Sam stops any further misunderstandings while Dean fills me in about what happened when Sam left to go find dad. Obviously, he hadn't found dad so much as a girl. Sam got her number and we left to our motel.

Dean was upset with Sam, I was a little too if I was honest.

"I'm going to go watch her. I don't quite trust her."

"Have fun."

Dean answered throwing him the Impala keys. I simply went back to the book I was reading, trying to help Dean find the damned symbol. About half an hour after Sam was gone Dean asked me,

"You okay? That chick was a little mean."

"I'm well adjusted to bitches but she went at you more. Seems Sam is a bit indecisive, huh?"

"You can say that again."

Dean grumbled. I went to the fridge and pulled out two beers. Opening them I handed one to Dean.

"How's that arm holding up?"

"You noticed it had been bothering me?"

"Yeah well, you do tend to zone out looking at it. To top it off I haven't found anything like it, even on the web..."

A small silence came between us. I fiddled with my one earring. It was a black cross stud that the boys and dad gave me for my birthday one year, said it was a small charm that could help me have a keen eye. It helped psychological effect or not.

"Still wearing that thing?"

"Of course! It's no different from you wearing the amulet Sammy gave ya!"

I smiled at the end of my sentence. Dean flashed a smile back.

~** **~

"Hey Dean, try looking up Zoroastrian symbols. It might fit the bill."

"On it."

A few minutes later he laughed and took a gulp of beer.

"Would ya look at that Rosie. Looks like we got ourselves a Zoroastrian symbol for a demon of darkness, a Daēva."

"A Daēva huh?"

I walked over and skimmed through the page.

"'An experienced sorcerer' huh? I'd like to think one of them would stand out like a sore thumb."

"I know what ya mean."

At that, we called Sam. He sounded a little flustered, Dean and I picked up on it but said nothing.

~** **~

Once Sammy was caught up he questioned,

"And you think Meg is the one behind it?"

"Maybe, we gotta check her profile out first."

Dean answered.

I let the boys do their thing. Sam was still stalking the chick I disliked... Greatly disliked.

"Hey, Dean."

"What's up?"

"That Meg girl... I feel like she's hiding- No, I know she's hiding something. She has a dark, a really dark vibe to her."

"Rosie she was chewing you out for doing your job. You probably just have a bad impression on her... Hopefully."

I wanted to comment 'Since when am I wrong' but that would make him worry about Sam.

~** **~

"Okay so the wanker's profile is clean, what's Sammy gotta say?"

I grumble Dean looks at me amused,

"What you don't like the idea of Sammy having a girlfriend?"

"Dean."

My tone is serious to his humoured one.

"What?"

"I don't care who you two date as long as they aren't demons, witches or a total whore."

I smile at the end of my statement and we start laughing.

~** **~

When Sammy came back I almost grinned.

Sam had apparently followed her and seen her conduct a ceremony with a golden goblet. She speaks to someone warning them that the brothers and I are in town, and is told to wait for the entity at the other end.

"We should call dad. Leave him another voicemail."

Dean commented. After doing just that we head out.

The boys seemed convinced that this was the demon that killed mum but I knew deep down it wasn't and that something was wrong. Very wrong.

We sneaked up on Meg's apartment. We see her at an altar and I know immediately that we're in trouble when she calls all of us out addressing us as the Winchesters.

As we walk forwards I gasp a second too late. The fucking Daēva had already knocked the boys out and I was close to follow.

~** **~

I was the first to wake up. I called Meg out for being possessed by a demon, an evil smirk plastered to her face. She was about to say something when the boys woke up. Sam growled out,

"This... This was a trap for us wasn't it?!"

Meg laughed,

"Not quite, it's a trap for daddy dearest."

I growl slightly, she looked at me and commented,

"Down girl, no need to be a bitch."

I had to bite my tongue to stop the flood of comebacks. I think I might have drawn blood actually.

"Daddy will have to come to the rescue for his darling boys and little girl. When he does all the Daēvas in the room will kill him."

"Fat chance."

Dean commented.

Sam started to talk to her and she went and mounted him to my outrage. I'm sure if looks could kill I'd be taking her to hell.

I knew what Sam was doing for Dean, it took Meg a moment before she figured it out.

"Smart boys but not smart enough."

She kicked the blade out of Dean's hand. I smiled at her,

"That's why escape is a women's job."

I throw my tiny blade at her before running at her, after a fist fight I manage to punch her into the altar.

Breathing heavily I watch on as the Daevas drag her out the window. She falls down a seven story drop, a sickening thud makes me cringe. I peer over the edge before retreating to the untied boys.

"Sammy, pick better girlfriends please."

"Preferably not loopy ones."

Dean added, Sam scoffed at us. We decided to just pack up at the motel and leave tomorrow morning, probably for the best as I was feeling sick.

Everything was going well until we arrived back at the apartment, I thought I sensed someone inside but when I tried to push further it stopped. Ignoring it I didn't speak up as we walked inside but when the boys froze at the door I had to push through them to see what made them stop. When my eyes focused on why they stopped a breath escaped my lips.

"Dad."

I ran into his slightly open arms. I squeeze him a little before parting. As the boys greeted him, Sam a tad reluctant I simply listened to the beating of hearts. My own faded to background noise and the three men's become more dominate as I vaguely listened to the conversation.

Dad suddenly looked at me.

"Rose, show me your arm."

Hesitantly I walked over and pulled my sleeve up. He traced each cut with his eyes something like annoyance flickered in his eyes.

"Did demons do this?"

"Yes."

My voice was a tad weak but Sam put a warm hand on my shoulder. Dad looked like he could have chewed me out then repeated it again.

"Fool. Were you working alone?"

"No Sir."

"What happened to your partner?"

"He got possessed. I killed him."

There was a pause before he muttered,

“Very well, but why'd they do this?"

A silence lingered in the room... Something, something was about to happen.

"Wha-"

I was cut off by the lights shutting off and all four of us being thrown to all four walls. Shadows swirled around us, ripped and clawed at us.

"Daevas?!"

I growl out in frustration only to end up yelping as my shoulders had claws drag along them. I heard the boys call out my name but not before I had claws rip through my stomach. My vision went from bright to dark and back again, I noticed the room go white with light as I assume someone got a flare. One of them picked me up bridal style and carried me to the Impala.

I heard arguing outside the car and I sat up, Dean was at the door he looked pretty beat up too.

"Dean..."

My voice was barely above a whisper but he put his head in the car and gave me a once over before helping me up.

"Dad's gonna leave isn't he."

I ask loudly now my voice was starting to recover. Dad looked at me.

"Rose, stay with Dean and Sam. I want all three of you to be safe."

"Dad-"

"That's an order, Rose."

I frown at him and look him deep in the eyes. I ignored everything that hurt, all my doubts and walked over to Dad. I silently leant into his ear and whispered.

"Somethings wrong with me. This shitty mark has something to do with it I swear."

I moved back, my body sways a bit and Sam rushes over to stabilise me. Dad looked at me long and hard, something like fear glinted in his eyes and he looked over all three of us.

"Goodbye, you lot."

Was the last thing I heard Dad say before I was put back in the Impala.

To be continued...   Part 3!

If you want to be tagged just send an ask, reblog or comment my way!

[my-proof-is-you]

The Cost of Protection - Ch. 21

Summary: Pain, bruises, and cover-up. You had come to accept that this was now your life. He was cruel, but you had to stay with him. It was the only choice. That is, until you meet the green-eyed stranger that refuses to let it go… You have protected others for a long time. Can you learn to be the one to be protected? Can you trust two strangers that say they won’t let anything bad happen?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con; abuse

**I do not own any images or gifs

Masterlist

Dean

The second Dean woke he knew something was wrong. He could feel that your presence wasn’t next to you—but it was different than if you had gone to the kitchen or bathroom. There was an emptiness there that Dean could feel.

He opened his eyes and turned his head to see a note on your pillow.

Please let her just have gone to the store or something.

Dean opened the letter and read. He shot up from the bed, throwing open his door.

"Sam! Sammy, get up!" He yelled as he tore through the bunker looking for you.

“Dean, what is it?” Sam asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes with hair sticking up in all directions.

Dean rushed past him, shoving the note in his hands. “It’s Y/N, she’s gone. She’s gone, Sammy,” he said, checking every room off the main hallway.

Sam read the note. “What? Why would she do this?” He asked, still standing in the middle of the hallway.

“I don’t know, man. We had a good night last night. We said ‘I love you’,” Dean’s voice cracked, and he stopped to talk to Sam while running his hands anxiously through his hair.

“Wow, that’s a big deal for you,” Sam said.

“I know, man, and probably an even bigger deal for her! I must have scared her away!”

“Dean, this just doesn’t make sense. I saw the two of you together, it’s clear she loves you. And yeah, maybe she was scared before, but think about how much she's changed since she came to live here. She wouldn’t just run away, she’d talk to you about it.”

“Y-Yeah, I guess you’re right. I don’t even know where to look for her…” Dean said, shaking his head and looking at the floor.

Sam put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “We’ll find her man, okay? Let’s just take this one step at a time. You call Cas, and I’ll call her family. Surely someone knows where she is.”

“Okay—okay,” Dean said, trying to calm himself enough to dial the phone. If you left and it was his fault, he would never forgive himself. He just hoped he didn’t scare you away.

You

You sat on the floor of a fancy hotel room, beaten and bloody. Apparently, Rahab liked to keep his victims contained in the nicest accommodations possible.

The second Rahab had transported you here, the beating began. He got off on it, that’s for sure. Every punch, every kick, every slap—there was a smile on his face. He would bring you to the brink of unconsciousness, then, when you were just about to feel the sweet relief of the darkness, he would heal you just enough to keep going.

He would leave for hours at a time—presumably doing whatever duties he had as a higher-up in Hell—and leave you in the hotel room. There was no way out—no doors or windows.

Rahab had left you alone again. You hugged your knees to your body and closed your swollen eyes.

This is worth it. It is. They’ll get my message. They will find me, and they will find a way to kill Rahab. Until then, this will keep them safe.

You repeated the words like a mantra in your head. The thought of keeping Sam and Dean safe was really the only thing that kept you going. And when things were hard and you wanted to give up, you thought that it could be possible for Rahab to accidentally go too far and kill you.

That was only when you wanted to give up, though.

You heard the rustle of wings and knew he was back without even looking up. You felt him place a hand on your shoulder, and all the pain you were feeling went away. You opened your eyes and saw that all the blood was gone.

“Is that better, my pet?” Rahab asked, his eyes glowing green again as he gazed down upon you.

You didn’t respond, your hatred for the angel evident in your face.

“Oh, come now, surely you’re not ignoring me?” He asked.

“Why bother healing me? You’re just going to do it again,” you responded, your voice even.

“Oh because, my pet, a clean canvas is so much better to work on. Now, I have some lovely new torture in store for you today.”

Rahab snapped his fingers and you were bound to a flat table, naked.

You pulled against the bindings but knew it was useless. You looked up at Rahab who was standing next to the table, a long blade in his hand.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

Dean

Dean paced the room for the millionth time. Your family hadn’t seen you. Cas looked everywhere and found nothing. If you had left on your own, he would have at least seen you living your life without Dean somewhere else. But you were gone. Almost as if you were hidden.

“Dean,” Sam said from his seat at the table in the library. Dean kept walking, mumbling quietly to himself.

“Dean. Dean!” Dean was stopped from his pacing by Sam’s big hands on his shoulders.

“What?”

“We’re gonna find her, man. You gotta calm down,” Sam said, looking at Dean with concern in his eyes.

Dean felt a wall in him fall down. He felt the tears that he always tried to keep at bay well up in his eyes.

“It’s my fault, Sammy,” he said, his voice breaking.

“Dean—“

“No, it is. It always is. Why do you think she’s the first one I’ve ever said ‘I love you’ to? Because if I get as close to anyone as I did to her, they get hurt! I should have known,” Dean said, hanging his head.

“No. I won’t let you blame yourself for this,” Sam said, taking his brother’s face in his hands. “I don’t know what made her leave. But I know it wasn’t you.” He made Dean look at him again. “Okay?”

Dean closed his eyes and nodded. Sam released him, patting him on the back. “Okay. Let’s look at her note again—just make sure we didn’t miss anything.”

“Sam, we’ve read that thing like a million times. There isn’t anything new there,” Dean said, exasperated. He really didn’t want to relive the goodbye any more.

“I can’t do this, and I’m so sorry,” Sam read.

“Yeah, yeah, I told you, the same.” Dean replied, hanging his head.

“I will never forget the words we shared in bed, between the sheets.”

Dean’s head popped up at the phrase. It hadn’t struck him as odd before, since he was so focused on the leaving part.

“Sammy—that sound weird to you?” He asked.

“What do you mean? I mean, it’s pretty dramatic, but it’s not that weird,” Sam replied.

“That’s just it, though. Y/N was nearly beaten to death and refused to be dramatic about it, even when she had a free pass to be.”

“Okay, so what are you saying?” Sam asked, still confused.

“I’m saying my baby left us a clue.” Dean turned and started jogging toward his room, Sam close on his heels.

He pulled back the covers to bed, his eyes frantically scanning the white sheets beneath.

“Dean, there!” Sam said, pointing to a spot partially covered by the blankets. Dean threw them off the rest of the way to see what it was.

Rahab.

“Rahab? Who the hell is Rahab?” Dean asked, looking at Sam.

“I don’t know…come on,” he said, leaving the room. The brothers headed back to the library and sat down at Sam’s laptop.

“Rahab—the hooker of Jericho?” Sam read from his search, confused.

"Why in the hell would a dead hooker abduct Y/N?” Dean asked, his brows furrowed.

“I don’t know, but I do know who might have an idea.” Sam closed his eyes. “Castiel, we need you. We may have a lead on Y/N, but we need your help,” he prayed, his hands held out.

There was a rustle of wings behind Dean and he turned to see Cas in his usual trench coat and tie.

"You prayed?" Cas asked, walking toward the brothers.

“Yeah, Cas. Y/N left us a clue—Rahab. We looked it up and got ‘the hooker of Jericho.’ Any idea what a dead hooker would want with Y/N?” Dean asked.

Cas tilted his head in the usual way he did when he was contemplating something. “Well,” he began in his gravelly voice, “I don’t know why a deceased prostitute would want her, but there is another Rahab of which I know.”

“Really? Who?” Sam asked.

“Rahab was once an angel. He was cast out of heaven for his sin of pride. He fell to earth where he met and conspired with demons. Eventually, his anger toward God and heaven made him obsessed with violence. If he couldn’t get revenge on God, he would hurt the things God loved most,” Cas explained.

“Okay, so we got a rogue angel that’s working for Hell?” Dean asked.

“That would make sense. We followed a demon a few days ago. Maybe it wasn’t a demon. Maybe it was Rahab,” Sam said.

“Yeah, but Y/N killed him with the knife,” Dean said.

“Rahab would not be able to be killed by the demon knife. He would need to be killed by an angel blade,” Cas said.

“But why would Y/N lie? Why wouldn’t she tell us when she came back so we could kill him with the blade?” Dean asked.

“Dean—we never told her about the angel blade. Jeff sure as hell didn’t know about it. As far as Y/N knows, there is no way to kill an angel. She probably agreed to this because he threatened her!” Sam said.

"No. She agreed because he threatened us,” Dean said. He knew that was the only way you would voluntarily leave. It was the same thing you had done for your family.

Realization dawned on Cas and Sam’s faces. “Okay, so how do we find him, Cas?” Sam asked.

“It will be difficult to find him. He’s an angel, so he knows how to ward against being found. I will start searching immediately.” With that Cas was gone.

“Okay, well what are we supposed to do?” Dean yelled to no one.

"We just have to wait, Dean. Don’t worry. We’re gonna find her,” Sam said.

“Yeah, but how will she be when we do?” Dean asked. He just hoped they didn’t figure it out too late.

Forevers:

@malfoysqueen14

@divadinag

@lynne1993

@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​

@infj-slytherclaw

@onethirstyunicorn

@sammykb1994

Deanies:

@tftumblin

@deans-baby-momma

@akshi8278

@weepingwillowphoenix

@playingdeep17

This Fic:

@my-soul-is-the-moon

@riverdalesserpent

@savannah0111

@sourwolf-sterek32

@justanotherwinchester

@obama-mia

@samsgirl93