#spn imagies

[spidermando]

Choosing Love

Summary: If life is like a road, what is the most important part of Y/N’s journey?

Pairing: Misha X Reader

Warnings: Stormy weather, moving, nothing else tbh.

Word Count: 1k+

Authors note: Hey everyone! So this was also written down as an English assignment, but I ended up ditching it and restarting (again). So I put it up here!

Check out my Masterlist here!

There’s a famous saying in a movie, which claims that ‘life is like a box of chocolates.’ But Y/N disagreed. She preferred to compare it to a road. A road with many twists and turns, bumps and hills, crossroads and turn offs. Every now and then, the road would split in two. Sure, she had a GPS, guiding and instructing her. But at the end of the day, she was behind the wheel and she could change the path at any time. She thought of this now, as she stared down at her computer screen. All white, apart from one question written in a peculiar black font.

“If life is like a road, what was the most important part of your journey?”

It was August 2017. The sky was a dull grey, glowing every few minutes as a lightning bolt rolled through it. The distinct clap of thunder followed, each louder than the one before. Then there was the rain, a constant down pour from heaven itself. It gathered in the ditches of the roads, forming puddles for little children to jump into. Y/N sat in the comfort of a plush seat, tucked away in the corner of the ice cream parlour. The shop was nearly empty, with only herself and her friend inside. Y/N supposed it was the miserable weather, causing people to rush into coffee shops where they could warm themselves with a hot beverage. But she preferred the dreary days, where she could cuddle into the warmth of her jumpers and not look odd or out of place. She had decided that this perfect weather called for a celebration, so she invited her closest friend to her favourite shop.

“Don’t you think it’s a little cold for ice cream?” Alice mumbled, pulling her sleeves over her hands. She’d always been a summer baby, dancing along with the sun as it reflected off the clear water of their family’s dam.

“It’s never too cold for ice cream.” Y/N responded, tugging a loose strand of her strawberry coloured hair from her black beanie.

Before Alice could respond, the waiter came over with their ice cream. She’d ordered a brownie, topped with two scoops of chocolate and sprinkles. Y/N had gotten a waffle, coated in Carmel syrup, a scoop of sherbet and a scoop of rainbow. As she went to thank the man, her eyes caught on to his, becoming stuck under his gaze. His eyes were so blue, she could swear she was drowning in them. Her heart rate picked up, as her palms became clammy. She had no idea how long she was staring, but she was pulled back to the surface as Alice kicked her under the table, clearing her throat.

“Uh, oh, um, t-thank you!” Her cheeks heated up, covering them in a light red. The words came out as a squeak, as she checked his name badge. “I-It looks g-great, M-Misha.”

Misha smiled, showing his pearly white teeth, as he thanked them and walked back into the kitchen. She hoped it wouldn’t be the last time they saw each other.

Now it was November 2019. The sun rolled off the sand, as the air was filled with the musical sound of laughter. Y/N and Misha sat on a sand covered towel, as they held hands and looked off into the distance. Today was their last day together. Tomorrow, Y/N would get on a one-way flight to America, where she would spend four years at university studying law. Misha would stay here, later taking over his dad’s business and becoming a mechanic. Neither of them wanted it, but their families took the reins and enforced it upon them. ‘It’s what’s best for you’ they said, ‘in ten years you’ll be thanking us’.

To scared of standing up for their relationship, and wanting to take the path their parents stated, they agreed. So, they spent the next 24 hours together, laughing, smiling and having a good time. They didn’t want their last memory of each other to be sad. That night, they slept in each other’s arms, sharing the same air as they intertwining their legs.

When the next day rolled around, Misha drove Y/N to the airport, parking as far away from the entrance as possible. Together, they walked to her parents, awaiting in front of the gate. This was hard for them too; after all, they were losing their baby girl. They all exchanged hugs and kind words, as Y/N’s dad, John, approached Misha.

“We’ve been working for this for 19 years, and it’s finally here.” He mumbled, squeezing Misha’s arm. “This is the road we’ve always led her down. And we both appreciate you for encouraging her to do so.”

“Thanks, John.” He couldn’t find the will to smile, too crushed on the inside to be happy.

“But you know, love does conquer all. And someone like Y/N doesn’t come along a lot.”

Misha pulled back, staring at him in confusion and shock. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying to follow your heart.” John smiled, placing a hand over Misha chest. “Because sometimes the road can change.”

Y/N stayed completely oblivious to the conversation, as she said her final goodbye and boarded the plane. She waited until she was seated before crying, not wanting her parents or boyfriend to see her like that. The tears trailed down her cheeks, as they fell onto her shirt and created a rapidly growing wet patch. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want to say goodbye.

Y/Ni stared up now, watching her husband of 40 years chasing their nine-year-old grandson around the living room, as he squealed in delight. She turned her stare to her two children, both now grown up, but bickering like 16-year-olds. It turns out, one conversation can make a big impact on someone’s life.

Misha hopped on the next plane, surprising Y/N at the airport all those years ago. From there, they built a family and made a life with each other. And what a life it was.

Y/N smiled, as she used her wrinkled up hands to type two words and press enter.

“Choosing love.”

[huntertales]

Part Four: All I Got Is All I Need. (Devil May Care S09E02)

Episode Summary: In the aftermath of the fall, Sam and the reader are taken by surprise when they learn Crowley is still alive–and stuffed in the trunk of the Impala. A temporary situation before the reader and the Winchesters relocate him to the Men of Letters dungeon. Kevin is anything but enthusiastic about seeing the king of hell under the same roof as him. However the three hunters want the demon close, hoping Crowley will provide useful information about others of his kind. Meanwhile, Abaddon re-emerges and plans to take over hell. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 3,406.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Heading back to the bunker after a long hunt like the one you and the boys had endured over the past few days was always a good feeling after dealing with all the stress you were put under. Dean made sure to drop Tracy off somewhere safe so she could continue hunting on her own. She left knowing a little more about how to slow down a demon if they tried to rear their ugly head in her direction, and maybe even a bit more at peace with herself from the things in her past that lead her here. You and the boys decided to celebrate the victory against the knight of hell by grabbing some dinner along the way home, and some prune juice for Kevin. Dean mentioned the reason why, but you stopped him before he could go into further detail about the kid's bathroom issues. You were worried about his well being, yet there were some things that didn’t personally need to know about the kid. 

You called out Kevin's name when you hit the bottom step of the staircase and looked around the place to see if you might be able to spot him anywhere. You guessed he was working on translating the tablet as some sort of distraction to keep himself busy from the added stress he was under. Having to be under the same roof as the demon who personally tortured him and destroyed his life was a heavy burden you didn't want to force on the kid, but you didn't have much of a choice. You found yourself stopping in your tracks after taking a look into the library to see that it was empty. You tried shouting Kevin’s name one more time when you noticed there was nobody here except for the three of you. All you got in return was silence. You and the boys exchanged a worried look before you bolted for the dungeon. 

An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach when you noticed the makeshift shelf that hid away Crowley was slightly ajared despite the door being closed shut. You turned on the lights and headed inside to somehow see if Crowley made his great escape. However what you saw waiting for you didn't ease your worried mind. Crowley sat in the chair as you left him, handcuffed and no evidence of any sort of attempt to him escaping. However you noticed he was beaten and bloody, like someone had personally taken out their aggression against him. The demon seemed to be unbothered by his new wounds. 

“Who worked you over?” Dean asked the demon. 

“Martin Hayward and Brandon Favors.” Crowley replied with a set of names you’d never heard of before. You furrowed your brow slightly in confusion.

“They did this to you?” Sam guessed. 

“No. They’re demons. You asked for names, I’m giving you names.” Crowley said. You and the boys were taken aback from the piece of information he was willingly giving you without a fuss. “They're underperformers. Spike them, you’re doing me a favor.” 

“Wow.” Dean scoffed at the demon’s cooperation. “You break easy.” 

“Please. Your little plan to have me stew in my own...delicious juices—pathetic. You want intel. I want things, too.” Crowley said. You crossed your arms over your chest and raised your brow slightly from his negotiations he was trying to make with you. “Maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement. Quid pro quo, lady and gentlemen.”

“So, these are what, then? Freebies?” You wondered. “Because you’re not the generous type.”

“You’re right. I’m not at all.” Crowley agreed with you on that point. “You can consider them a fair trade for the enjoyment Kevin gave me.”

You crossed your arms tighter over your chest at the mention of the prophet’s name coming out of the demon’s mouth. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s my new favorite toy.” He said. “Wind him up, watch him go.” 

Dean let out a frustrated sigh from hearing the advice he gave to Kevin turn out to be nothing more than wasted breath on his part. Crowley did nothing more than lean back in his seat and smile at the added trauma he added to the kid he loved messing with. Kevin had already been teetering on the edge from all the stress he had endured over the past year. Whatever the demon said to get under the kid's skin might have pushed him over the edge to the point of no return. “Check on the names.” Dean instructed you and his brother. “I’ll go find the kid.” 

You turned your attention back over to the demon when you saw Dean make his way out of the dungeon and back out into the hall to see if he might be able to find Kevin before it was too late. The memory of Crowley in the church crossed your mind. You remembered seeing a human side to Crowley, someone who confessed about wanting to be loved. Who was willing to confess his greatest sins for a chance at being something he hadn't been in a few centuries. What you saw now was the same arrogant, power hungry demon who got off on trying to break people from the inside out. You shook your head slightly from the way his lips dragged further into a smirk and left him in the dungeon with the only company to occupy him was himself. 

Dean managed to make it back up to the main level of the bunker just in time to see the kid he had been searching for, who was trying to make his escape with a backpack of his stuff hanging off his shoulder. There was no way in hell the prophet was going step outside that door. “Where do you think you’re going?” Dean called out to the younger man. Kevin barely glanced in the older Winchester’s direction as he made his way to the staircase. Dean quickly reached out and grabbed the handle to Kevin’s backpack, stopping the kid from going anywhere. “Hey, hey, hey! Whoa, whoa. Talk to me.” 

“You can’t keep me locked in here.” Kevin stated. “I’m leaving.” 

“Like hell.” Dean argued with the kid about his plans. His tone of voice was full of frustration and aggravation from how careless Kevin was acting in the moment. “Man, we told you not to talk to Crowley, okay? He messes with your head.” 

“He said my mom’s alive.” Kevin confessed something the demon told him while he was doing his form of payback. “Crowley said if I let him go, he’d give her back to me.”

Dean couldn’t help himself but scoff at the blatant sounding lie. “And you believed him?”

“He’s still in there, isn’t he?” Kevin questioned the man. 

The older man fell silent for a few seconds before responding, "Crowley's lying." 

“And if he’s not?” Kevin asked him. 

“Well...if she is alive, then she’s dead. In every way that matters, she’s dead, Kevin. I’m sorry.” Dean hated the fact that he had to tell Kevin of another possibility that would make him want to have his mother be dead than having her still breathing and living some kind of torture Crowley cooked up. It was so easy to run from this lifestyle and hold out for that little piece of hope that things might be okay. You fight just to have a chance of something that reminds you of a normal life. Something that makes you feel secure, safe. Dean had been in that position not too long ago. And it never goes the way you want. “I know you’re dying to bolt, man. I get it. But out that door, it’s demons and it’s angels, and they would all love to get their hands on a prophet, so even with Crowley here, this is still the safest place for you. It just is. And we need you, man.” 

“‘Cause I’m useful.” Kevin muttered.

“Because you’re family.” Dean stated the real reason why he wanted him to stay. “After all the crap we’ve been through, after all the good that you’ve done...man, if you don’t think that we would die for you...I don’t know what to tell you. Because you, me, Sam, Cas and Y/N—we are all that we’ve got.” Things might not have been clear enough for the kid to understand where he stood with the four of you, but Dean was going to tell him flat out for the first and final time. “But, hey, if none of that matters to you, then I won’t stop you. Just say goodbye to Sammy and Y/N on your way out. Sure they’re not gonna be heartbroken on your decision. We've already lost one family member, why not one more?"

Dean only realized until the words that came out of his mouth how it might have been a low blow. He didn't want Kevin to leave. He couldn't stomach the idea of something happening to him. Every part of the kid wanted to step outside that door and run away from the people that hadn't abandoned him. Not when he ran around the country, not when he refused to be a part of this lifestyle. They kept pushing, because that's what family does. Kevin slid off the backpack from his shoulder, letting the strap hang low in his hand out of a sign of defeat. Sometimes family is three hunters and an angel. It’s not perfect, but it was all Kevin had. 

Kevin promised to unpack his things in the morning and settle himself into the bunker for a more permanent stay. He grabbed the bottle of prune juice and headed back for a restful night's sleep he had been fighting off for the past several days. Dean felt a little more at ease knowing the kid was going to be somewhat all right. He took the chance to shrug off his jacket and find where you and his brother wandered off too. It was no surprise when he spotted you working diligently in the library with a book open and a pad of paper next you. You scribbled something down before you skimmed the pages of the book, the pen tapping  against the paper. 

“Kevin’s passed out in one of the back rooms. He’s a tough kid. He’ll bounce back.” Dean said, giving up an update on the kid after the scare he put you all through. Dean poured himself a drink out of the fancy glassware that kept the more expensive liquor he enjoyed on occasion with his brother. He made sure to get you one now that you could drink. He glanced up when he noticed you replied with a silent nod. “What’s up with you?” 

“I love you. You know that, right?” Dean smiled slightly at the sudden randomness of your answer to his question and how serious you sounded when you uttered the three words that made his heart beat a little faster. He grabbed the glasses and made his way over to where you were sitting and placed it in front of you. When he saw you staring up at him with a no nonsense kind of expression, almost as if you were making sure of it. He felt his smile slowly falter. "I don't know if I say it too much. Or not enough. I just want to let you know I do. I always have. And I always will." 

"I know, sweetheart. I love you, too." Dean said. He dropped himself into the chair across from you and leaned back in his seat, wondering what had gotten into you to act like this. You looked like you were on the sudden verge of tears, but you were doing everything not to lose it just yet. Dean gestured with an arm for you to come over to him, you got up from your seat and made your way over to his awaiting lap. You wanted to be near him. To feel his embrace around your body. You leaned your head into the crook of his neck and shut your eyes when you felt his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "What's wrong, Y/N?"

"It's just...I've been thinking about what Tracy said about me—she's not wrong." You whispered your confession to him about how you were feeling at the moment. Maybe it was how you felt ever since you heard the news a few days ago. You could only bury it for so long before it came rising back to the surface with a vengeance. "I've done things that I regret. I hurt people...people who I was supposed to protect." 

"Hey, look at me." Dean forced you to sit up straight and look at him in the eye, wanting you to hear the truth about the matter. "You have helped a hell of a lot more people than you have hurt. So all of that—that was then. Okay? But I know that's not what's really bothering you. Tell me the truth." Dean reached up and softly brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. You hated how he could read you so well. You let out a sigh. “Are you...doing okay?” 

“I don’t know. I guess.” You shrugged your shoulders from the answer you gave him. If you were being honest, you weren't sure exactly what the proper answer was. “How are you supposed to feel after everything that happened?”

“Whatever you want.” Dean said. “There’s no wrong or right way to handle this.” 

“I...I’m sorry for what happened.” You apologized to him. Dean’s expression softened from the way your tone shifted into a more quieter pitch and how your eyes darted away from him before they would make contact again with his. You let out a frustrated sigh when you felt yourself becoming overwhelmed with your emotions as you turned your head completely away from him. You tried your hardest to fight off the tears that were threatening to fall. He felt his heart drop slightly from the way your voice sounded. It was the same kind of way when you found out the truth if you kept going with the trials. All the things you let yourself believe over the past few months. “If I knew...If I could stop it...It’s all my fault.” 

“Hey.” You slowly turned your gaze back to him and stared into his eyes as he brushed away the few tears that managed to slip out. You looked exactly like how you had when you were given the reality of the situation. So tired, so defeated. There was no amount of lying that he could do to stop you from feeling these kinds of emotions. You had a right to grieve, the both of you did together. “You didn’t know. How could you? This isn’t your fault.” You rolled your eyes and tried to get away from him, but he was quick to keep you pinned down on his lap. He wasn’t finished speaking the truth you needed to hear. “You’re still the woman I love. Nothing will ever change that. And I would never look at you any differently because of this. It breaks my heart thinking that you do.”

“But why do I feel so guilty over it? I mean, I was only six weeks. I know women lose babies way later. Women who want children. We didn’t plan on having one, and let’s be real...I really didn’t want one. But I still feel sad because I lost them. And for some reason it hurts. It hurts so damn bad that I was robbed from that chance. I don’t know why.” You confessed to him. “And I feel so bad for you. I mean, this was yours as it was mine…” 

“I’m sad. I’ll be honest. When you were in the hospital recovering for those two days, I had some time to think about everything. What would life be like if we did have a kid and all that.” Dean said. “I mean, I tried being a father once or twice. Never worked out in my favor.”

“Sammy turned out okay.” You said, jumping to the man’s defense. 

Dean shrugged his shoulders at your example. “He can be a pain in the ass sometimes.” The joke made the slightest smile spread across your lips, but it didn’t last long as he’d hoped for. 

“There’s also another part of me that keeps thinking...could we really be parents? I mean, do you think it would be a good idea to bring a baby into this world with everything going on right now?” You wondered. “The fallen angels. Abaddon. Cas losing his halo. The king of hell in our basement?” 

“It’s not all bad.” Dean said, trying to look on the brighter side of things. “We’ve got a roof over our heads. Enough knowledge between the both of us to keep the kid alive and not totally screw it up. You would stay at home while I went out saving the world with Sammy. Cas could babysit every once in a while. It could be like our very own messed up sitcom.” 

"Right. I could be the next June Cleaver." You felt a smile tugging at the ends of your lips at the thought of you staying at home with a newborn while Dean went out on hunts with his brother. But it disappeared quickly as it came. "It's a nice thought. But…”

“But, what?” Dean asked. 

“It’s gonna be tough before things get back to our kind of normal. I just have to keep reminding myself that I’ve got family and friends who care for me. A prophet who is practically like raising a child full time just trying to keep him happy. It’s gonna be tough. And having to come  to the realization that getting married and having a kid...it’s just a thought. That’s what it’s always gonna be.” You shrugged your shoulders, laughing quietly to yourself about something you thought was going to be your future just a week ago. Now you brushed it off like it was a joke, a situation that you were okay about never being able to achieve. “For the first time in a very long time...the future doesn’t look bleak anymore. Things are gonna be okay. Eventually. But I can deal with that.”

Dean felt his heart sink deeper into his chest at your words and how casual they sounded. Once upon a time you were over the moon about the future you were making for you and him. He remembered the conversation you had with him about wanting a family. The night you found out he had a child of his own and how it all turned out when you were supposedly dead. It was also the night you convinced your own baby. For those six months you thought you were going to have it all; shutting the gates of hell, you and him getting hitched, having a baby. Now all of it was meaningless. Your perspective changed on what you wanted out of life. You were wearing rose tinted glasses to the world around you and the damage done without even realizing it. 

You thought you were given a second chance at doing things right when plans to shut the gates of hell went belly up. The pregnancy you had was barely starting, not enough for one to grieve for long. Angels falling from the sky. Cas human as the three of you. A knight of hell doing who knows what. But for Dean, that wasn’t the worst of it. You didn’t know the truth. About how far along you really were, the angel hitching a ride in your skin that was healing your internal organs and sprucing himself up. To you, everything would slowly go back to the way it was. 

Dean leaned back in his seat when you got up from his lap and made your way back over to your own chair to get back to work. He took another sip of his drink and wondered how the hell he got himself into this situation. A part of him was starting to wonder if it was a good thing you were starting to think like him. Did he rob you from ever wanting to have that chance again if things ever settled down enough for you to propose the question of having a family? Despite knowing the truth about how it would turn out in the end, Dean still wanted to have that comfort. The possibility if things changed. Maybe somewhere in another dimension you could have that family. But in this life, it was never going to happen. And he had to be okay with that. 

[Next Part]

Rewrite Taglist:

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Message me if you would like to be added!

[randomimaginesblog]

Imagine you and the Winchesters have been captured by Crowley. Music appears out of nowhere, and he then starts singing a song about his evil plot and how you guys won’t stop him anymore.

-Requested-

[fandom-imagines]

[mrswinchester96]

Imagine going to watch a firework display with the boys

[beartherevival-blog]

Emely and Dean during a heated argument. A memory that will haunt both of them, that tore them apart, always ripping them back into reality. 

“It should have been you.” Emely said blankly. She can feel everything bubble up inside her, but all that came out was those words. Nothing else. No emotion, no nothing. 

Dean stepped back, taking it in because he knows he deserves it. Every day he goes back to that place and he wishes so much it was him, and not her. “I know. . .” was all he could say before he walked away, leaving her emotionless and alone. 

-Lexi

[spidermando]

Prison Break

Summary: A short story about Y/N’s first prison break

Pairing: Dean X Sister!Reader, Sam X Sister!Reader

Warnings: Arrest, nothing else really

Word count: 1.6K

Authors note: Hey guys! so this is my first imagine, i hope you guys like it. i meant to post it on the weekend, but my laptp was being a dick and deleted it, so rip. Have a great day - Georgia

Check out my Masterlist here!

Deep breaths. In and out, in and out. It had happened all too quickly. One minute I was picking up soft drink from the shelfs, the next I was in a pair of handcuffs, being shoved into a police car. My eyes caught sight of my older brothers, Sam and Dean, also being taken. Hopefully we were being taken to the same station, otherwise I don’t know what I’ll do. How did they even find us?

There was a gun placed in the waistband of my jeans, but I was obviously frisked and stripped of the weapon. I felt naked, vulnerable even. I had no way of defending myself, unless you counted my restrained fists. My mouth stayed shut throughout the trip, however no questions were asked anyway. They had no reason to arrest me… right? There were no traces of me at any crime scenes, Sammy had made sure of it.

After a few minutes, the car finally pulled to a stop and I was hauled from my seat. The hands gripping my arms were strong, causing me to wince in pain.

“No need to bruise my arms, mate.”

My words were only responded to by a huff, but the grip slightly loosened. The man continued to guide me into the station, where I caught a glimpse of Dean. He was restrained, pushed down onto a table. He had no physical signs of injury, causing minor relieve to flood my body.

“DEAN!!”

His head instantly snapped in my direction, calling the attention of the other officers.

“(Y/N).”

His body tried to straighten up, however he was merely pushed down again. Taking advantage of the man’s lose grip, I ripped myself out of his hold and ran towards my eldest brother. The police seemed to shocked to move, so I shoved them out of the way and helped Dean stand up. Quickly, I nuzzled my head into his chest. It was almost a hug, but with neither of our hands being free, it was simply chest contact. His head rested atop of mine, as a sigh left his lips.

“Don’t worry (Y/N), Sam will get you out of here.”

Instead of replying with words, I nodded. I knew the police were getting back on their feet, I could hear the shuffling. There would only be seconds before we were separated again.

Dean seemed to sense this, as he moved his head and placed a kiss on my forehead.

“Dean, what ab-“

Just as predicted, I was ripped away from my brother. Without even thinking, a scream escaped my throat and I planted my feet into the ground. No matter how hard the man pulled, I stayed put. My eyes were set on Dean, as he was pushed back into the table. He barley even noticed, as his eyes were also clearly on me.

“W-what about you??”

His mouth opened but I never heard his response, as the man picked me up and walked away from the scene.

“Look, you’ve been here for four hours. The sooner you speak, the sooner you get to go home.”

The police officer in front of me was short, with brown hair and green eyes. She was wearing a hideous pantsuit, with black flats. From what I had heard, her name was Ashely.

“I’ve already told you everything!” My voice came out frustrated, expressing how I felt.

“The truth, we need the truth.”

“What do you think I’ve told you then? Because I can promise you that I am no liar, I’ve never told a fib to anyone.”

Unless you count the police and general public.

My brothers and I always knew this could happen, so we had well devised lies for everything. Our stories would always match up, we made sure of it.

“Well how come your brother, Sammy, told us something completely different.”

Psh, as if.

“First off, it’s Sam. His name is Sam, not Sammy. Second off, are you sure you aren’t lying to me?”

Ashley seemed taken aback for a moment, her glance leaving mine.

“It’s my job to lie.”

A short chuckle left my mouth, causing her to turn back to me.

Making direct eye contact, I responded.

“I thought it was your job to protect the innocent. Not arrest them.”

It was several hours before the door opened again. Ashely had been kind enough to supply me with a cup of water, however I had already drunk it all, leaving my mouth as dry as a desert. My wrists were bond to the table with handcuffs but there was a small chain, leaving room for me move my arms.

My eyes stayed on the table, uninterested in the person who had walked in. Judging by the impact of the footsteps, it was a man. Interesting, I don’t remember a man come see me before. A sigh escaped my lips, as I threw my head back and rolled my eyes.

“And what is that you would want?” I muttered, staring at the ceiling fan directly above me.

“well, ideally I’d like to get you out of here.”

That voice, I’d heard millions of times before. It had helped me sleep on sleepless nights, calmed me in stressful situations and explained the unexplainable.

My eyes immediately snapped to the man, studying him for any visible injuries. To my relief, he appeared as he always did, fine.

“Sammy.”

Before I even knew it, tears poured from my eyes, dripping down my cheeks and falling onto my neck. Sam seemed surprised, after all I didn’t cry often. I didn’t realise how much I needed to see them until he walked in the room. But these hours alone in this small room had set me on edge, silently begging for my brothers to come rescue me.

“(Y/N).”

As my relentless crying continued, Sam approached me with a bobby pin. Quickly, he expertly undid the handcuffs, before pulling me into a well needed hug. My sobbing slowly came to a halt, with the feeling of his arms around me sending warm waves of comfort up my spine. My hands gripped his shirt, fearing he would disappear if they didn’t hold tight enough.

Eventually, I pulled back from him. My eyes trailed to the spot I had nuzzled my face into, seeing a sizable wet patch.

“S-Sorry.”

Sam’s face contorted with confusion, as I pointed towards the stain. As soon as he spotted it, his lips curled up into a smile.

“Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

His smile was contagious, as I followed suit and let out a small giggle. My hand search for his, as I pulled it into my grip and intertwined our fingers.

“so what now?”

Sam’s eyes gestured to the window, as his eyebrows raised causing crinkles to appear on his forehead.

“Well, I do a have a little idea.”

“Sammy, do think we can pull over yet?”

Shortly after escaping the police station, Dean joined us at the hotel. Together, we packed everything we had left into Baby’s boot, before taking off. We’d been driving for at least three hours and the hunger was starting to get to me. If I didn’t have food soon, I might result to chewing the backseat of the Impala.

“Uh, I don’t see why not.”

Dean seemed to take note of his words, as we kept watch for any fast food place. We continued to drive for twenty minutes, before Dean pulled up in front of a MacDonald’s. Sam handed over some money, before telling me what he wants. Dean followed suit, telling me his order as he pulled out of the car parking lot and drove down the road. It was too risky to have them here, especially in our obnoxious car.

Repeating their orders in my head, I marched into the restaurant and got in line. Luckily, it was short, with only 4 people standing ahead of me. I didn’t notice at first, but in the corner of my eye stood two police officers. Instantly, my palm became sweaty, as nerves over took me. I kept my head forward, trying to avoid eye contact.

They didn’t seem familiar, but that didn’t mean they oblivious to my identity. Keeping the thought in my head, I stepped ahead and ordered Sam’s, Dean’s and I’s orders. The nice lady gave me a ticket with the number 102 on it, before taking my money and handing back the change.

$4.80. Studying the coins, I placed them in the charity box. Who knows, that $4 could save someone’s life.

Making sure not to look at the officers I waited for my order. My head faced forward, as I discreetly kept my eye on them. I couldn’t help but flinch, as one made their way over.

“Excuse me.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Realising I was in his way, I stepped to the side and into the shadows. The man said nothing else, as he made his way forward to collect his food. It was then that I heard someone shout my number.

Jumping forward, I snatched the food from their hands, thanked them and headed towards the door. As if Dean knew I was coming, he pulled up right in front of me. My hand gripped the door handle, as I opened the door and jumped inside. A sigh left my mouth, relieve flooding my body.

“Did you get the food?”

Typical Dean, always about the food.

In reply to his question I held up the bag, shaking it in the rear-view mirror.

“Thank the lord!”

And that was the story about how I escaped my first police station with my two big brothers, Sam and Dean.

[huntertales]

Part Three: At First If You Don’t Succeed. (Clip Show S08E22)

Episode Summary: Sam, Dean and the reader share a bitter reunion with Castiel after finding the angel beaten and bloody in the middle of the road. While digging through the Men of Letters’ files, they stumble upon an undiscovered film which could be the key to completing the third trial. Meanwhile, Crowley digs into the reader and boys’ past, putting people they saved in mortal danger. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 3,744.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You had your doubts on Dean's plan of digging up a demon you had buried away in the outskirts of town for the past few months. There was no reason why she wouldn't come back to life after all this time. While you were still skeptical, it seemed you were discovering new things about demons today. You learned that you might possibly be able to cure one with some Latin and purified blood. And if you chopped the head off of one with a devil's trap bullet in her skull she'd come back to life like a typical functioning monster. While you wanted nothing more in this world than to leave Abbadon buried six feet under with her still conscious of her surroundings after all she did to you. The desire to figuring out how to close the gates of hell was stronger.

You stared at the demon with your arms crossed over your chest, the sight of the red head alone made your desire to bury her alive came back even stronger. All the things she did to your father fueled the idea of leaving her in solitary. But you knew if this plan worked—if you somehow could turn her into a human again—the guilt of the blood she had on her hands from countless murders and terrible acts she committed for hell would be the best kind of punishment of all. It might be just enough for her to end her own pathetic life. 

“It worked.” Dean declared the obvious. He slapped his brother on the chest for his doubts. “You owe me a beer.” 

“And I owe you both so, so much.” Abbadon thought all of you were stupid enough to attach her head back on to her body with free mobility to her body. It seemed she wasn’t all back to her normal self when she made passive threats to the older Winchester. “I can’t wait to tear those pretty green eyes out.” 

“Good luck with that.” Sam told the demon.

You nodded your head to the lack of human parts she woke up a little less with, your lips stretching into a smirk at her new discovery. "We figured kitty didn't need her claws.”

Abbadon stared down to see you were staring at her arms, to be specific, the bloody stumps of where her hands should have been. You couldn't help yourself but snicker as you saw her struggle to get out of her seat and come after you from the reaction alone. Abbadon enjoyed a challenge on taking down her victims. "Then I'll stump you to death. It'll be swell." 

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen, either." Sam said. "The bullet, remember?"

The bullet that was currently lodged in the roof of her mouth if you took a wild guess from the angle Henry shot her, before she ripped his insides out and left him to bleed out. Long as the bullet was in her body, there was no way she was going to smoke out or escape from your clutches from what you were about to do to her. It was sweet, sweet karma coming her way that was fifty-five years in the making from what she did not only to your own flesh and blood, but to all the others she tried wiping out. 

“So you sit there like a good little bitch. We’re gonna consecrate the ground, and you’re gonna get to fessing up.” Dean explained the plan for today to the demon, thinking she had no clue what was about to go down. He thought it would be a nice little surprise to ambush her with after waking up the demon from her little dirt nap. He might not be able to kill her with the demon knife, but she'd do his job for her after that soul of hers turned a little less dark.

“Oh, I know this tune.” Abbadon said. Sam scoffed quietly at the secret the Men of Letters kept hidden for decades. It'd be impossible for the demon to know, however he didn't connect the dots together. Only it was the exact reason why she was here in the first place. "Father Max Thompson, born on October 12, 1910. Died, August 5th, 1958. Who do you think ripped that priest apart? Word got back to home office that Maxie was messing with things, so we made an example. It wasn’t my most artful kill, but it was effective. But Andrew...oh, he was my pride and joy. What I did to him was a true work of art. A masterpiece, if I may say.” 

“What you did is that you turned him into a monster. Like yourself.” Your insult to the demon was like a compliment from the smile that spread across Abbadon’s smeared red lips. “This entire time I thought it was because you needed someone on the inside to help you. But I’m guessing the chick you’re wearing was one of them. You did it for revenge. You knew about the rituals this entire time.”

“Father Max spilled his guts before I ripped them out of his body. He told me all about Josie Sands. I rode her into the Men of Letters and what I did to them—that was fun. But you really don’t care about that. You care about why Daddy didn’t die like everyone else.” Abbadon took a wild guess at the questions you still had. “Andrew was a special case. His family has a long history of messing with demons. It only seems fair he got a taste of his own medicine. Took days and countless demons, but it was all worth it when his soul turned black as his eyes.”

“So you knew what Max was doing.” Sam said. 

“I had an idea. Fella screamed the basics. I tried getting more information out of Andrew, and, well, you can’t say much when you’re choking down demon blood.” Abbadon nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders at the inconvenience for her. “I can only imagine what kind of half breed you turned out to be, Y/N. Your little plan isn’t gonna work.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” Dean said. 

You found the conversation taking a momentary pause when you heard your phone start ringing from an incoming call. You shoved a hand inside your back pocket and pulled it out to see a three number digit on the screen. “666.” You furrowed your brow slightly from who it could be from the usual number. You answered the call and pressed the phone to your ear, deciding to let the caller say hello first. The person on the other line was a voice you were expecting to hear in person after he popped out of thin air. It was Crowley, with that obnoxious accent of his. 

“Hello, Kitten.”

You rolled your eyes from hearing that stupid nickname of his you were given. “Crowley.” 

"Crowley?" Abbadon repeated the name of a demon she remembered before being thrown into the twenty first century. He dubbed himself king of the crossroads back in the day. She smiled slightly, wondering why he was calling you. "The salesman?"

“Try the king of hell.” Dean corrected the demon. 

The smile on Abbadon's face fell quickly as it came after hearing the words come out of the man's mouth. Hell must've froze over for that pompous prick to have gotten such a prestige title. When Abbadon was around there were key players still alive—Lilith, Azazel, just to name a few on the top of the food chain. There was no way Crowley got ranks over hell above all of them. Things really went to crap while she was gone. "This a joke, right?"

You nodded your head for the boys to follow you outside so you could take this call in private. Whatever reason why Crowley was trying to contact you like this it was important. Dean ordered for the demon to stay right where she was while all of you stepped inside to figure out what the king of hell wanted. You thought Abbadon would have done what she was told. After all, there was no way she could escape if she had no hands to sneak out the bullet. 

When you got outside, you pressed a button on the screen to put the call on speaker so you weren't the only one graced to hear the demon's voice. You continued on the conversation by asking a very important question. "How'd you get your slimy hands on my number, Crowley?"

"Ah, first thing's first," Crowley answered your question with a sleazy one of his own. "what are you wearing, Kitten?"

"Oh, okay, hanging up now." Dean jumped into the conversation when he heard the demon try to get cheeky with you. He nodded his head for you to end this call once and for all, thinking the demon was trying to be funny with you by wasting your time. "Hang up." 

"Don't get your boxers in a twist, Squirrel. This isn't a social call. I was wondering. You lads been reading the papers, say, Dever Times from yesterday? No? Well, you should. It's side-splitting." Crowley said. Dean pulled out his phone and pulled up the newspaper the demon was talking about, and why he was going through all the effort to tell you about it. "What the hell—I'm sexting you an address. Check it out. Then we'll talk. Cheerio."

"Wait, what?" Sam tried to figure out what the demon was talking about, but he was a little slow on the draw when he heard the dial tone coming from the other end of the line. "Crowley?"

You hung up the phone and shoved it back into your pocket for safekeeping after Dean pulled up the front page of the newspaper Crowley was talking about. You spotted a news article that caught your attention, something about a freak accident always raised a few questions. "Here it is. Vic's name was Tommy Collins." Dean read off a bit of information after skimming through the article. The name sounded familiar to him, but he couldn't place where he heard it before until today. "Tommy. Why do I know that name?"

"Tommy Collins. We saved him from a wendigo like forever ago." Sam said. "It was the second case we ever took with Y/N when she was still learning how to hunt." 

"Wow. Talk about a blast from the past." You mumbled the slightly insensitive remark under your breath. You vaguely remembered the case that you took back when John was missing and you were figuring the ropes of how to be a hunter without getting yourself killed. You wondered why Crowley went after Tommy after all these years "You think Crowley blew his head off? I mean, what are we dealing with here? Some sort of demon-wendigo team up?

“No clue.” Sam admitted. 

“All right, well, we’ll pour one out for Tommy later.” Dean said. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and headed back inside the building, knowing you had more important things to do than worry about what Crowley was up to. It was sad at what came of Tommy, but you didn’t have time to play games. “As far as Crowley goes, screw him. We got everything we need to put him in a permanent time-out.” 

You thought you were one step ahead of the game from Abbadon sitting in the building with no where to go and Crowley thinking you were going to play his little game. It seemed for a second you had everything exactly where you wanted. Life has a funny way of not always working in your favor. When you stepped back inside the place and into where you left the demon, you felt your heart stop in panic when you saw there was an empty chair—and no demon. You swore on your life she was there when you left her only a few minutes ago. Somehow the bitch managed to sneak away while you weren’t looking.

“No. No! No! No! No!” Dean growled to himself at the unfortunate sight. He raced forward to the empty chair and looked around to see if he might be able to spot the red head around here somewhere. “She’s gone. She’s—son of a bitch!”

Dean took it upon himself to try and track the demon down while you and Sam figured out how Abbadon managed to get herself free. She might be immune to the demon knife, but you’ve never met something like her that was resistant to a devil’s trap. You should’ve take it one step further and made one around her before you brought Raggedy Ann back to life. You walked over to the desk you had laid all the materials out on when you noticed something was off. You reached for the metal box that you had put her detached hands for safe keeping. When you noticed they were empty, you let out a frustrated sigh and threw it back down to the desk, causing you to make a banging noise that echoed through the place. Who would’ve thought her hands were like Thing Addams. 

Sam started to figure out how she managed to get herself free when he spotted something red on the ground he didn’t seem before, not too far from where the chair was. He bent down to examine it further to try and figure out what it was. Sam didn’t take very long to realize it was the bloody bullet that was lodged in Abbadon’s head. She must’ve somehow gotten it loose from using her unattached hands and snuck out while the demon had the chance. Sam called for yours and his brother’s attention to show you what he found. The sight of the bloody bullet made you grow even more pissed off. Before you could let out a swear word like you wanted, you felt your phone vibrate. You snatched it out from your pocket to see it was a notification. 

“It’s a text message from Crowley,” You told them. “an address in Prosperity, Indiana.” 

“Prosperity? Didn’t we work a case there? Yeah, yeah, the one with the witches and the baked goods.” Dean said, figuring out why the place sounded so familiar to him. You guessed it was during your absence away, that’s why you were out of the loop. “So what? He’s going after somebody there now?”

“I don’t know.” Sam said. “We got to check it out.” 

You raised your brow slightly from the obvious reason not to play along to Crowley’s game. He would stop at nothing to see you dead. No matter how many bodies it took to get you where he wanted you. “Well, you know it’s a trap.”  

“Of course it’s a trap. But a trap means demons,” Sam stated the reason why it was important for you to go to Indiana. He raised up the bullet that held the one that you had at your disposal, before she ran away. “And we could use one right now.” 

+ + +

You didn't have much of a choice but to follow along with Crowley's instructions and take the long drive to Indiana with the hopes that you were on time to save this Jenny person from the fate Tommy had suffered. Along with a few demons that he might be stupid enough to have waiting for you. All you needed was just the one to get this entire situation wrapped up for good once and for all. No more kings of hell calling up to harass you. No more demons trying to toy with your life for the hell of it. You could finally have the life you've been yearning for decades now. Most importantly your child could have a life without worrying things were going to end up the same way as it had for you. 

When you pulled up to the apartment that Jenny was living in after her near death experience with some pissed off witch, you and the boys wasted no time in getting out and heading up there. You were anxious about what was waiting for you inside the apartment. Every part of you was hoping Crowley was going to slip up and have one of his goons waiting for you. Dean picked the lock in record time and swung open the door, stepping into the dark apartment after testing the light switch only to conclude the power was out. He made his way inside first with Sam following behind. You lingered in the hallway as the both of them made sweep around the place to see if there was anyone hiding in the shadows.  

You made your way inside when you noticed there was most likely no one here, all though you still kept the demon knife close to your side, wanting to err on the side of caution just in case someone wanted to get the jump on you. You noticed right as you stepped into the apartment Dean found something. You made your way over to the kitchen area to see Jenny had been busy earlier from the sight of delicious looking cupcakes and a mess of ingredients around the place. You peered over the counter to meet Jenny for yourself. However the both of you couldn’t be properly introduced from the sight of her. 

You grimaced at the burnt smell of human flesh that made your stomach feel queasy, the sight of Jenny with her head in the oven after someone most likely forced her in there. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself from throwing up. “Is that…Jenny?” 

Dean slowly nodded his head to answer your question. He stared at the body for a moment, a sense of guilt coming over him from how the poor girl fell into the clutches of Crowley's plan "You were a great gal, Jenny Klein.”

You heard your phone start ringing again just a minute after you arrived to Jenny's apartment and discovered the present Crowley had left for you. You quickly pulled it out to see the familiar three digit number on the screen. You let out a frustrated sigh at who was calling you again and got the boys’ attention before answering the call. "What the hell are you doing, Crowley?"

“Oh, Kitty, isn’t it obvious?” Crowley asked you, wondering why you haven’t caught up to the little game he wanted to play. “I’m killing everyone you and those neanderthals ever saved—the damsels in distress, the innocent whippersnappers, the would-be vampire chow—all of them.”

“How do you even know—” Dean tried to ask the demon a question, but he was quickly cut off.

“I have my sources and a cracking research team. When you kids hit a town, you tend to leave a mess. Now, you’re probably wondering why my droogs aren’t in there giving you the bum’s rush, so let’s bress these tracks, shall we?” You felt your grip around the knife go slightly tighter as you looked around the room, wondering if Crowley was just bluffing. But the place was empty except for the three of you. And Jenny’s charred body. “I’m gonna gut one person every twelve hours until you bring me the demon tablet and stop this whole trials nonsense.” 

“We don’t have the tablet.” Sam lied to the demon, hoping it would be enough to buy you some time and figure out another plan to stop Crowley before he could hurt anyone else. “Kevin took it and—” 

“I took Kevin. Then someone took him back. Word from the cloud that it wasn’t heaven. So either the cutest little prophet in the world is with you two lads and Y/N, or you better find him tout-bloody-suite because time, she is a-wasting. About now, you’re thinking of ways to stop me. You won't be able to, but you'll try because that's what you do. You try. So, time for an object lesson.” Crowley decided to be nice and throw you another chance at saving a life you already did many years ago. “Indianapolis, the Ivy motel, room one-one-six. You have fifty-seven minutes." 

You peeked at the clock on the oven to see that it was a little after eleven. You and the boys had until midnight to find this person and save them from whatever twisted plan Crowley had. When you heard the dial tone come from the other end, you wasted no time getting out of there and back down to the Impala. There was no way in hell you were going to let that bastard win again. 

+ + +

On the way to the motel you tried racking your brain for old cases that you worked here to help figure who Crowley might be going after. Maybe he was just pulling at your strings and leading you to another dead body. A warning for the people he was going to pick off if you didn’t do what he said. You felt a nervous knot in your stomach began to form as you cautiously watched the time on the clock as it ticked down to a half an hour until midnight. You were determined to make it there with time to spare and prepare yourself for whatever sort of twist Crowley wanted to throw your way. 

Dean stayed behind to collect some things for you while you and Sam rushed to find the motel of Crowley's next victim if you weren't quick enough. Sam rapidly knocked on the door until someone finally answered it after a long grueling minute of waiting. Who you saw answer the door took you by surprise if you had to be honest. Sarah Blake—she was a young woman at the time you first met all the way back in '05. The daughter of an art dealer who got caught in the cross hairs of a spirit of a child who murdered her family and anyone who had taken possession of it. You saved her from the spirit after it trapped her and Sam in the home of the last person who took ownership of the painting. 

“Sam.” She spoke the name of a man she hadn't seen in almost eight years. All though she only met him once, the encounter they shared together was something she'd never forget. It took a second he didn't come here alone. You greeted the woman with a forced smile as a sense of fear slowly crossed her face. "What are you doing here?”

[Next Part]

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[randomimaginesblog]

Imagine always being able to make Crowley laugh. 

[randomimaginesblog]

Imagine explaining Kpop to Crowley.

[randomimaginesblog]

Imagine being a preppy sorority girl and when the Winchesters investigate your college, Dean hates himself for falling for a girl like you.

-requested-

[randomimaginesblog]

Imagine not telling the Winchesters you’re a witch, but Dean discovers you using magic.

Dean: (y/n), what are you doing?

(y/n): Nothing, I was just...twirling my pencil.

Dean: With what? The force?

-Also I just watched this past week’s episode yesterday, and Dean’s back at it again with the Star Trek references-