#spn sister

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: you know the episode 4.19 where Sam and Dean get a call from their supposed half brother and their rightfully suspicious and it ends up being a hunt for them? What about instead of Sam getting tied down and bled it’s their baby sister? She’s small and young and definitely shouldn’t be losing this much blood, she can’t even lift herself up after Sam and Dean manage to free her. Pls and thank you!

Request: I have a request on s4 e19 when Sam gets tortured by the ghouls. Can you reverse the roles with Winchester sister? No rush do whenever you want. Just remember to take breaks and drink water! Bye! :)

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Extreme Blood Loss

A/N: Please let me know if you like this because it helps motivate me to write more lol! Requests are open and if I haven’t gotten to yours yet feel free to request again because I have over 200 requests and I’m working on a bunch. You can request anything and everything I don’t care and I will never get annoyed!!

“Okay we’ve closed off every other way into the house.” You said to Adam, looking at the last tunnel in the house that wasn’t closed off. “If this thing is coming, it’s coming through here.” You finished at the same time as a door creaked through the house. Your attention immediately snapped towards the noise.

“You were saying?” Adam asked and you looked back towards him.

“Adam!” You heard from the other room and your heart sank.

“Adam!” It cried again, but before you could make your next move Adam was already calling back out.

“Mom?” Adam yelled, ready to run.

“No!” You tried to stop him, but he didn’t listen.

“Mom!” He yelled out and pushed past you.

“Adam!” You shouted after him, getting your gun ready. You ran down the steps after him trying to get him to stop.

“Mom?” You heard him sigh in relief.

“Adam no wait!” You cried out and rounded the corner to see Adam and the monster.

“It took me, but I got away.” It cried as Adam embraced her.

“Adam, step away from it.” You screamed with your gun pointed.

“Y/N, what the hell?” He shouted at you, confused.

“It’s not your mother!” You tried to reason with him.

“Adam, who—what is going on?” The monster cried.

“Get away from him!” You yelled at it starting to feel hopeless.

“What is going on?” It cried.

“You listen to me. It’s really her, okay?” Adam said, pushing it behind him.

“There was too much blood, your mother’s dead. There was too much blood in the vents!” You yelled trying to quickly explain before he snatched the gun out of your hand.

“Adam!” It cried.

“Shoot it!” You screamed, now terrified of the predicament you were both in.

“He’s crazy, it’s me!” It yelled in protest of the gun being pointed at it and immediately Adam pointed the gun back at you.

“Look—Adam!” You cried.

“It’s me!” It said.

“That’s not your mother!” You screamed trying to save the both of you and make him understand that his mother was not his mother and in fact the monster they were hunting. He flipped the gun back on the monster.

“Shoot it! It’s not human!” You yelled, trying to get through to him.

“I know.” He smirked, turning to face you. You had no time to be confused with what the hell was happening before he hit you with the butt of the gun and everything went black.

——-

You woke up to humming and noticed you were tied down to a table. You started struggling to get yourself out, but to no avail.

“Silver. No need none of the tests worked. You’re not shapeshifters. You’re ghouls.” You sneered, staring at Adam’s fake mom.

“You know, I find that term racist.” She replied with a knife in her hand.

“Huh.” You said with attitude, rolling your eyes. You tried to free yourself once more when she came to you sniffing you and biting your ear.

“Ew! Get away you weirdo freak!” You yelled. You had quite a bad problem with bad mouthing monsters and it always ended up biting you in the butt.

“Fresh meat. So much better than what we’re used to.” She grinned.

“Oh I should’ve known. It was the fresh kills that threw me. Ghouls don’t usually go after the living because you’re all just disgusting, filthy, nasty, trash pickers, taking form of the last corpse you choke down like a scavenger.” You sneered, again with the name calling. She was lucky you had to get to the point because you were just going to go on and on with all the negative words in the dictionary.

“And their thoughts, and their memories. Like Adam for instance.” Fake Adam said, walking into the room.

“Yeah well we are what we eat.” She chuckled.

“You’re pathetic monsters.” You said with disgust. Fake Adam sliced your one arm open and you let out a groan. His fake mom immediately went to licking the blood.

“That was for calling us pathetic.” Adam said.

“Yeah I’d call you a lot more than that. Do you have time?” You asked sarcastically, still struggling to get away.

“You know you use that word a lot, Y/N. Monsters.” Fake Adam said and brought the knife down on the table missing you by just an inch.

“But I don’t think you know what it means.” He finished as his fake mom continued to lick the blood pouring out of your arm.

“Her blood—it tastes different.” She said in confusion.

“Our father was a monster? Why? Because of what he ate? He never hurt anyone, Y/N. Living anyway.” Fake Adam smirked and grabbed the knife.

“No he was no monster. But the thing that killed him was. A monster named John Winchester.” Adam’s fake mom said trickling the knife up and down your body. Fake Adam stuck his fingers into the wound on your side and you cried out in pain.

“Thanks to your daddy, my brother and I, grew up on our own.” She explained as he twisted his finger deeper into your side and you let out a scream.

“At least we had each other.” She finished. He took his finger out of your wound and licked the blood off of it.

“Like you and your brothers— inseparable.” He said.

“Actually it was very hard to get you on your own. Your brothers are almost always keeping you out of harms way. Awww how protective.” She said sarcastically.

“So we figured instead of killing all of you, why not just kill you? They would suffer way more knowing that their wittle baby sister is dead.” He said in a fake sad voice.

“Go to hell.” You managed to get out.

“Like you said, Y/N, the only thing you can count on is family.” He said as she sucked more blood out of your arm.

“And for 20 years, we lived like rats. Graveyard after graveyard, all that stinking flesh. And then we thought hey why not move up to the fresher game?” She said.

“And we knew just where to start.” He smirked and started carving on your other arm. You cried out in pain and felt the world fading around you.

“Revenge— it’s never over, is it, Y/N?” He asked, still carving around your arm.

“First, it was John’s cop friend, and then his slut and then his son.” She said twirling her knife around.

“Then I called John, but the son of a bitch was already dead.” Adam sighed, disappointed.

“So I guess you will have to do instead.” She said, petting the side of your face.

“And they won’t interrupt us this time. We’re gonna feed on you nice and slow— like we did with Adam.” He said.

“Oh and by the way, he really was your brother. You should know that.” She grinned. You struggled against the ropes that tied you down, trying anything to escape.

“He was still alive when we took our first bites.” He smiled.

“And he was a screamer!” She said before she sliced your entire forearm. Fake Adam followed after her and sliced your arm again. You screamed in pain and thrashed. You could feel the blood pooling out of your body and you could hear it dripping into the bowls. The way it flowed like a waterfall made you feel absolutely sick. You knew you were going to bleed out and that you didn’t have much time left.

“Y/N, the more you struggle, the faster you’re going to bleed out. So you might as well lie back and relax.” Adam said as you whined and whimpered, trying to stay awake.

“Hey!” You heard Dean scream and a shot ring out.

“Dean, they’re ghouls-“ You tried screaming, but you were so weak it came out as a whisper. You knew Dean heard you though because another shot rung out.

“Which means headshot.” He said as Sam came stumbling into the room.

“Y/N!” He yelled before he was taken down by fake Adam and thrown through the glass doors. Dean immediately followed suit as you groaned and cried out. Your breaths were becoming rapid and shorter. You didn’t have enough energy to pick up your head to see the fight going down. It felt like forever before you saw blurry figure walk back into the room. Not knowing who it was, you tried to get your body to move. You felt like you had a fifty pound weight holding your body down.

“No!” You whimpered weakly, knowing you had no fight left in you.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, it’s Sam, sweetheart. I got you, you’re safe.” You heard Sam and felt him cup your cheeks to get your attention.

“S‘mmy.” You slurred.

“Yeah, hey bug, it’s me, I got you.” Sam said softly trying to comfort you, knowing that it was bad.

“Dean, she’s freezing cold.” Sam cried out trying to stay calm.

“Shit.” Dean said panicking. You felt the rope being cut off of your one wrist and you groaned out in pain.

“I know kid, I know. Hang in there for me okay?” Dean said, knowing that it was painful, but it had to be done. He started cutting the other one on your wrist while Sam started on your ankles. You felt your heart racing, your body sweating and your skin clammy. You could barely hang on to consciousness and your body felt weighed down by a million weights.

“Mmm scared.” You slurred looking into the blurriness of your brothers.

“You’re going to be okay sweetheart alright? You’re going to be fine. Just keep talking to us okay?” Sam asked, now full on panicking, but trying to keep you calm. You knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much blood and you weren’t sure if you were going to be okay. You let a few tears slide down your cheeks as you struggled to catch your breath.

“No, no, no. You’re going to be okay, alright? I won’t let anything happen to you.” Dean said noticing your tears. He quickly placed rags on your forearms and held them tight to stop the bleeding. You cried out in pain and tried to pull away when you felt him putting pressure on them.

“I know kid, I know. I’m sorry.” Dean said clenching his jaw. Sam made his next move by helping you sit up, but your body felt like jelly. You couldn’t lift yourself up as your head lobbed to the side of you. This feeling absolutely terrified you and left your body trembling in fear. The impending doom was taking over and it was paralyzing you. As your brothers scrambled around you trying to support your body, they urgently discussed their next steps in helping you when you interrupted.

“Mm I going to die?” You whispered weakly, blinking away the dots that clouded your vision. Scared that if you closed them, you wouldn’t open them again.

“HEY, HEY!” Dean yelled and tapped your face. Your eyes snapped wide open and your body trembled uncontrollably as you whimpered in fear.

“You’re not going to die. Do you hear me? Just keep those eyes open for me, alright?” Dean asked with fear in his own eyes, but when he looked into yours he was met with confusion.

“Wh-what?” You started. In an instant, you were confused. Where were you? What happened?

“De?” You called out for your eldest brother, the one who took care of you your entire life. The one who was always there for you when you called.

“Yeah I’m here baby, I’m here.” He said. Baby? He only called you that when something serious was happening. You finally took in your surroundings and saw yourself covered in blood as your brothers worked around you.

“What happened!” You cried out, completely confused and dazed.

“Relax sweetheart, you’re going to be okay, alright? You’re going to be okay.” You heard Sam say as he lifted your body off of the table. You grunted in pain, but your body only grew heavier.

“There’s too much blood!” Dean cried.

“I know, I know!” Sam yelled in frustration.

It felt like time was skipping because the next thing you knew, you were in the impala. You glanced to your right and noticed your dad.

“Dad?” You asked, fuzzily. Dean immediately looked towards Sam who glanced down towards you.

“She’s hallucinating Dean, she’s lost too much blood.” Sam said stealing a concerned glance towards his brother. Dean gripped the steering wheel tight and cursed silently, speeding faster.

“Dad, I missed you.” You cried, which caused Dean to completely break.

“Hey baby, no, dad’s not here, alright? Dad’s not here.” He said weakly, completely terrified of his sister’s state.

“Mmm t’red.” You said weakly, the heaviness and the blood loss making their last round on you.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, sweetheart, you’ve gotta stay awake.” Sam said urgently, but you didn’t listen and closed your eyes in exhaustion.

“Keep your eyes open please!” Sam cried out and tapped your face. It had no effect on you as you slipped into unconsciousness.

———

You jumped awake to a beeping noise in a complete panic. You were in a daze and physically couldn’t lift yourself up which made you panic more.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.” You heard Dean say, but the beeping noise only got faster. You were in total confusion and couldn’t make out where you were.

“Relax for me kid, you’re alright.” You heard Dean again and this time felt a hand placed on you. You groggily looked around and saw that you were in a hospital room. You immediately went into an intense shiver unsure if it was from how cold you were or if it was from the nerves that just overcame you. Dean cupped the side of your face, no doubt feeling your body tremor.

“You’re okay.” He said softly, giving you a reassuring nod.

“So cold.” You made out and he sent you a sad look.

“Alright, let me go find a nurse and get you some more blankets.” He replied hesitantly unsure if he wanted to leave you alone when Sam walked into the room with coffee. Sam’s immediate sigh of relief when he saw you awake and his glance towards Dean made you realize how serious whatever happened to you was. Dean left the room and Sam walked towards you.

“Hey sweetheart.” He said softly, sitting in front of you.

“Sammy.” You smiled weakly and tried to reach out to him. He immediately got the hint and took your hands into his.

“I’m here.” He said gently and rubbed his fingers on your hand.

“I’m so weak.” You mumbled, trying to understand why your body felt so heavy.

“What happened?” You whispered, not remembering anything that took place. Sam’s face fell and his eyes filled with sorrow.

“The ghouls had you bleeding out and when we got to you it was almost too late. You were so pale and you were ice cold. You were so cold bug, it terrified me.” Sam said, looking away and trying to collect himself.

“There was blood everywhere, we weren’t even sure how you were alive at that point. Then you started hallucinating and went unconscious. We thought we lost you, God we were so scared.” He said, shedding a tear and quickly wiping it before it could drop.

“We rushed you to the hospital, not knowing if you were even alive and waited around for hours not hearing anything. Then the doctor came out and told us you were stabilized, but lost 35% of your blood. He said you should’ve died and that it was nothing less of a miracle.” He said as his voice cracked.

“You were in a coma for two weeks.” He explained quietly, knowing this was going to freak you out.

“I’ve been out for two weeks?!” You asked, hysterically.

“They said it could’ve been up to a couple months, we just weren’t sure when you’d wake up.” He said as you just stared blankly at him.

“We were so terrified to lose you. Dean even prayed a few times.” He finished. You both knew that Dean never prayed and he never believed that there was a God out there so the fact that it got to the point where Dean was praying, made you extremely emotional. The tears started streaming down your face.

“I’m so sorry Sammy, I should’ve known it was a trap.” You cried, feeling terrible and guilty that your brothers had to be put through something so traumatic because of your own mistake.

“Sweetheart, no, it’s not your fault. Me and Dean should’ve never left you alone with Adam. We weren’t thinking and it almost cost you your life.” Sam said, staring into your eyes and wiping your tears. Before you could say something back, the door opened. Dean, a few nurses and a doctor walked in. They checked your vitals and explained that you were going to be very weak for about a month. You had iron deficiency anemia due to the blood loss and it would take a long time for you to start feeling normal again. They left the room and Dean put the extra blankets that they brought in on top of you. The weight and coziness of the blankets made you immediately feel tired. Your brothers took notice and Dean kissed the side of your head.

“Get some rest kid, we’ll be here.” Dean reassured.

“Thank you for saving me.” You smiled softly looking between your brothers.

“Always.” Dean said as Sam grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

[winniewritesstories]

Taking After Them | Winchester!Reader

Some headcanons on what it would be like if you were just like your big brothers!!

Taking after Dean:

Having the same taste in music, rocking out in Baby to Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Bob Seger, etc.

Driving Sam crazy because there's basically two of Dean

On movie nights, you and Dean basically act out the scenes for Rocky, every Clint Eastwood film, Die Hard, so on, there's really no need to even play the movie (Sam is dying inside)

Arguing over the last slice of pie

Stealing his clothes, especially band t shirts

Always begging Dean to let you drive Baby

Loving slasher films & Halloween, always planning costumes with him (but rarely getting to actually dress up as hunting gets in the way)

Making pop culture references with Dean

Being obsessed with bacon

Calling each other Batman & Robin

Being pretty flirty as you get older, Dean giving you pick up lines & tips

Him teaching you to fight & defend yourself, being proud of how strong you are but also scared for you

Taking after Sam:

Always down for a library trip with Sam

Dean rolling his eyes at his "nerdy little siblings"

Arguing over the best fantasy books and films

Swapping & sharing books, talking about how you liked the book or what you didn't like

Eating your fair share of salads BUT you love pie almost as much as Dean does

Going through a break up and Sam playing Celine Dion at full volume while you cry

Talking about college when the time comes, Sam helping you with your admissions essays

Him helping you study by quizzing you, marking practice tests, etc.

Dean always complaining about how long you both take to wash your hair

Dragging Dean around museums, you & Sam having a great time & Dean losing his mind (he likes the gift shop though)

Sam teaching you Latin & lore, you helping him organise the Bunker's files & archives

Going for runs with him but complaining like 90% of the time

BUT overall I think you'd be a little bit like both of them while still being your own person. Growing up with little influence other than those two, it would impossible for you not to be like them.

graphics from @saradika-graphics <3

[winchesterdefender]

And Then There Were Three | Winchester Sister I

Summary - A baby shows up on the Winchester's doorstep, and their entire lives change.

Pairings/characters - John Winchester, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Meg Winchester (OFC), Sam & Dean Winchester x little sister, John Winchester x daughter

Warnings - very mild cursing, John Winchester

Language - English (British)

Word Count - 3,096

Notes - This is the first instalment of the Winchester Sister series featuring my OFC Meg Winchester! Please be kind <3

Credits - dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

UPDATE - I have moved my writing to @winniewritesstories to make my writing easier to find than on this mess of a blog! I won't be taking this down but all future writing (for Meg and reader inserts) will be there!

Dean Winchester was strong. He was brave, and fierce. He fought monsters - has done his whole life, as long as he can remember. He liked to think he was unbreakable, invincible. The hits kept coming, and he kept taking them. Fear, pain, worry - he pushed it all down, kept it locked away. In some ways, he had a heart of ice. He never broke.

Dean Winchester was strong.

And then one day, just before he turned nineteen, a baby appeared on a motel doorstep. A baby who wasn't his, but was. Would always be. A baby in a pram, with a note addressed to John Winchester, a note that eased the fears this baby was his, but it would be his, really. John Winchester was never a father. Not to him, not to Sam, and therefore not to this baby.

It was early October, and already Maine was cold. Dean's breath clouded in front of him in the cool, dark night. A glance around the parking lot revealed nobody, no cars, nothing to indicate where this baby had come from. His first instinct was to bring the baby in from the cold, and he did, careful to fix the salt line the wheels of the pram disturbed.

The first thing that struck Dean was that this kid was definitely a Winchester. They were a carbon copy of baby Sammy, same little button nose and eyes, barely any hair gracing their head. A memory tugged at the corners of his mind, four years old and holding Sammy for the first time, his mom supporting Sam's head while dad took a picture. Still a kid with two parents but keenly aware of his responsibility, of how his centre of gravity had shifted from himself to his baby brother.

But his mom wasn't here now and Dean would have to support this baby's head on his own. And his dad hadn't taken pictures of his kids since Mary died. So his centre of gravity shifted again to the baby in the pram. Another of John Winchester's kids for Dean to raise. Part of him was angry, part of him defeated. Sammy was fourteen, able to look after himself now. Dean didn't have to worry about him in the same way - Sam fed himself, did his homework, all that crap. Dean had almost been free.

But he couldn't blame the baby. He didn't. It didn't ask for this. Didn't understand anything. Dean reached a hand down, pulled the little yellow blanket away from their face. It was small, smaller than Sammy had been, and not just because Dean was grown now and over six foot. Small in a way that told him this baby was young. Small in a way that put fear into him. Small in a way that made him desperate to protect them from the horrors and cruelty of their world.

He felt sick knowing he could never protect them from that. From their lives. This baby was a Winchester, which basically meant it was fucked.

The bathroom door opened, and Sam walked out.

"What is that?" he asks, damp hair curling against his forehead.

"A baby," Dean replies, still looking down at them.

"A what?" Sam asks incredulously, crossing the room to stand by his brother. He looked down and saw there was, in fact, a baby. "The hell did this come from?"

"Was on the doorstep. Came with this." Dean said, handing Sam the unopened letter addressed to their father.

"It's dad's?" Sam was having a hard time digesting all this. He had to admit, his first thought was it was Dean's. "Where even is he?"

"Bar, I think. Reckon he knows about it?"

"If he knew he had another kid out there, don't ya think he would've mentioned it?"

"Yeah, 'cos Dad's a real open book." Dean replied. Sam turned the envelope over and made to open. "What're you doing? Don't do that, is addressed to Dad."

"Figured this might give us some answers. Maybe a name for the mystery baby."

Dean snatched the letter from his brother. "We ain't reading this til Dad has."

"Is Dad dating anyone?" Sam asked. "He's never mentioned anyone."

Dean shrugged a shoulder. "Doubt Dad dates. Probably a one time thing."

"And after he gave me the safe sex talk. Hypocrite." Sam said. Dean shot him a pointed look but didn't say anything. After all, Sam wasn't wrong. Dean'd received the John Winchester safe sex talk, too (an uncomfortable memory).

As if summoned, the rumble of the Impala's engine and the beams of her headlights signalled their father's arrival. The brothers exchanged a look, knowing that a mystery baby showing up on their doorstep would not go down well with John Winchester. Dean didn’t know why, but he positioned himself in front of the pram, standing between the baby and the door John would walk through. Sam copied him.

The door opened and John walked in, stepping over the salt line. He nodded his head towards his sons, locking the door and shrugging off his leather jacket. He turned around; neither Sam nor Dean had moved, or even said anything.

"What?" he asked gruffly.

"Um, so something kinda... turned up. For you." Dean started. John cocked an eyebrow.

"This ain't exactly our forwarding address. What is it and how'd it get here?" John asked, heading to the fridge for a beer.

"Well... it's..." Dean figured it was easier to just show him, so he stepped to the side and motioned for Sam to do the same.

John nearly dropped his beer. He immediately fixed his gaze on Dean.

"What did you do?" he asked. Dean sighed. Why'd everyone assume it was his?

"It's yours," Sam said bluntly, taking the letter from Dean's hand and holding it out for him. "Showed up on the doorstep with this."

This time John did drop his beer.

The bottle smashed on the floor, glass and alcohol flying everywhere. The sudden noise startled the baby awake, and they promptly burst out crying. John reached for the letter, Sam for a broom, which left Dean with the baby.

He gently lifted them out of the pram, careful of their head. The yellow blanket fell away slightly, revealing a light pink romper underneath. Presumably a girl then. A little sister. Dean rocked them gently, the way he remembers his mother doing with Sam, quietly shushing to calm her down.

In his arms, he was again struck by how small she was. He held her easily in just two hands, one under her head, the other on her back. She opened her eyes then, wide and blue like all babies, taking in the motel room around them before settling on Dean's face.

"Hello, you," he whispered, unable to keep the smile off his face. "I'm your big brother." His heart clenched in his chest as he held her.

"What's the letter say?" Sam asks, knelt on the floor to pick up the glass. John was staring intently at the letter in his hands.

"It's from her mother. Says she can't look after a baby. Too young."

"Jesus, Dad. How young?" Sam asks. Dean groans inwardly. Not the time for this, Sam.

"What the hell are you trying to ask?" John fired back. "She was early twenties. Drinking age, anyway. I don't know why the hell she'd think I'm any more capable of this than she would be. How the hell'd she even find us?" Sam and Dean both shrugged. How were they to know?

"What's her name?" Dean asked, still swaying gently back and forth.

"Amanda something. Don't really remember, to be honest. It was two nights. The sex was alright, nothing special. Didn't exchange numbers."

Sam and Dean cringed. They did not need details.

"I meant the baby, Dad." Dean replied. John at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

"Right, of course. Says here..." He scanned the letter. "Margaret." Dean screwed up his nose. That's an old lady name. His little sister was going to be cool, and that couldn't happen with a name like Margaret.

"That's a terrible name for a baby," Dean said aloud, looking down at her. "She doesn't look like a Margaret."

"Meg March was actually a Margaret," Sam said. John and Dean looked at him, perplexed. "Little Women? Louisa May Alcott?" More blank stares. Sam just rolled his eyes.

"Meg." Dean repeats, squinting his eyes at the baby. It fit. "Meg Winchester."

"It doesn't matter what she's called," John said. "We ain't keeping it." Dean's head snapped up.

"What?" Dean asked incredulously.

"How the hell are we going to look after a baby, Dean?" John asked. "We don't have a house, or any baby supplies. We're always on the move. We're hunters, not nannies. I spent two nights with a woman a year ago and then a baby appears. Kid's probably not even mine anyway. We'll take her to a fire station or something."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. They'd managed before. Sammy had been but six months old when they started hunting, and Dean - though he tried - hadn't been able to help out as much as he could now. This baby was family. Family is everything to the Winchester's.

"Course she's yours, Dad, look at her! She's a spitting image of Sammy as a baby. Besides, Sam was a baby and we raised him on the road. You can't just abandon her." Dean cried out.

"Maybe Dad is right, Dean. She'd be better off with a family - "

"We're her family! The three of us."

"A real family, with a mom, a dad, a house. She'd be normal, Dean, safe. We can't give her any of that!" Sam replied. True, he was projecting his own dreams onto a baby, but he had a valid point, or so he thought. All Dean heard, however, was that Sam didn't believe they were a real family.

"We are a real family, Sam. Just because we don't have a white picket fence, don't mean we ain't a real family. Besides, you really want this kid growing up in the system? Anything could happen to her!"

"Anything could happen to her here, Dean! All it takes is - is a spirit, or a pissed off monster out for revenge, and she-"

"But we can protect her from that. You think some civilian family would keep her safe if a monster decided to get revenge, Sammy? You have know idea what happens in the foster system. She could be abused, or trafficked, or-"

"Enough!" John snapped loudly, startling the baby again. He couldn't hear himself think. And he did need to think, long and hard, about what was best for them, and for the baby. Sam made a good point, of course, and God knows John's not equipped to look after a baby. But Dean was right, too. Anything could happen to her out there. "Sam, get me a beer."

Sam sighed but did as he was told. John walked over to Dean, who was gently rocking the baby to settle her after John's outburst. He looked at the baby for the first time, really looked at her. Dean was right; she was a carbon copy of baby Sam. And she was cute, too. Dean, admittedly, had been a funny looking baby, especially as a newborn, a squished face and large head he eventually grew into. But this baby - Meg, he reminded himself - was sweet looking, almost doll-like, with her pouty pink lips and button nose.

He and Mary had never talked about more kids - Sam had only been a baby when she died - but he'd always imagined them having one or two more, and he'd always wanted a little girl. Mary had, too, he had no doubt.

But Mary wasn't here, and this wasn't her baby. Part of him felt guilty, as though he'd been unfaithful, despite the fact she'd been dead almost fifteen years. John thought of his own father then, Henry, who'd taken off when John was only four, leaving him and his mother on their own. Even all these years later, he still felt bitter about it - bitter and hurt. Of course it hurt, knowing your own father didn't want you and took off into the night. And that's what he was about to do to this little girl. Her mother had already bailed. John was all she had left.

John, and his boys. Sam had kept his distance, almost wary of the baby in Dean's arms, but Dean - he was whipped. That was the only word for it. He was smiling softly down at her, cooing gently to soothe her. Deep down, John knew Dean would end up doing more for this baby than he ever could. But maybe that was a good thing. Dean wouldn't make the mistakes John did. Wouldn't leave her alone like he did, leave her to raise herself.

The guilt twisted in his gut like a knife, but he knew what he had to do.

"We'll keep her. It'll be safest for her. We'll... we'll make it work somehow. We'll have to." John said, placing a large, calloused hand gently on his daughter's head. Dean looked up at him with Mary's green eyes, raw hope etched onto his face.

"Yeah?" He asked softly. John nodded once, clapping his eldest son gently on the shoulder. Sam handed him a beer, then stood on Dean's other side.

"Can I hold her?" Sam asked. Dean looked reluctant to let her go.

"Be careful. She's really small and can't hold her head up on her own yet, so make sure you support it. Don't drop her, for God's sake." Dean rambled on as he gently shifted the infant into Sam's open arms, already fretting like a mother hen. John smiled softly at his children - all three of them.

Sam smiled at the baby, rocking her gently the way Dean had. "Hi, Meg. I'm gonna be your favourite big brother." He said. Dean rolled his eyes.

"No way, Sammy. I'm already her favourite."

"That's crap, she doesn't speak, can't even smile. You don't know that."

"Sure she can, she smiled at me just now."

"Yeah, that was gas, Dean. She farted on you." Sam replied, and Dean's smile faltered.

"Speaking of," Dean said, changing the conversation abruptly. "We're gonna need supplies. Diapers, a car seat, formula."

John nodded, moving to the pram that Meg had turned up in. There was a bag in the basket underneath the bassinet. John leafed through it quickly. "There's some stuff here," he said, holding up a muslin cloth and some diapers. "Enough for tonight, at least. We'll find somewhere in town tomorrow that sells baby stuff. Maybe pick up a book, too."

"A baby book?" Sam asked. "Why'd you need that?"

"It's been a long time since I did any of this, Sammy. Besides, I didn't do it on my own before, I was working a lot. Your mom... your mom looked after you guys most. Did all the hard stuff." John admitted quietly. The room fell into reverent silence the way it always did when someone brought up Mary. Sam didn't point out that he'd still been a baby when she died, and John had raised him for most of life alone. It didn't seem like the time. But a book seemed overboard, in Sam's opinion. How hard could a baby be?

Only a minute or so later, Sam's question was answered. Meg began fussing in his arms, quietly at first, but getting louder despite Sam's gentle shushing and swaying. When her cries turned to wails, he looked up at his father and brother, panic in his eyes. "I think I broke her."

It was Dean that stepped forward, plucking the baby from his arms. "You didn't break her," he assured Sam. John stepped up too, looking down at the infant whose fist she was trying to squeeze into her mouth.

"See how she's sucking her hand?" John spoke quietly. "Mean's she's hungry. C'mon Sam, I'll show you how to make a bottle. If I can work it out, that is."

Sam and John stepped away to prepare the formula. Dean watched them as he swayed the baby. "It's okay, princess. Daddy and Sammy will get you some food."

Dean watched his father, usually so confident and self assured in everything he did, falter at almost every step. Checking the instructions on the formula, then checking again. Rinsing a bottle and filling it with hot water. Hands hesitant, unsure of what they were doing. Hands that could assemble a shot gun in under a minute, but seemed to tremble as he shook the bottle. Testing the temperature on his palm, his wrist, then his wrist again. He had no idea how warm it should be.

Although it was strange to see John so unsteady, Dean found it strangely... comforting. Humanising, perhaps. He pictured briefly John doing the same thing for him as a baby, the unsure hands of a first time father. Pictured his mom along side, walking him through each step.

John handed the formula to Dean. "You gonna do it?" he asked. Dean nodded. He didn't want to relinquish the baby, even though John hadn't even held her yet. Although, he'd made no move to hold her either. John talked him through it, how to hold the bottle, at what angle, as best he could remember.

Dean paced slowly around the small living space of their motel room with his sister in his arms. Sam had pulled out some homework, John writing something in his journal, beer in hand. But for Dean, it was just him and his sister in the world. Hell, his sister was his world now.

Dean Winchester was strong.

But he could feel his heart thawing out for the baby in his arms. He knew he needed to be strong for her, yet he'd never felt so weak. The fear of what could happen to her, the need to keep her safe, was almost overwhelming. Was this parenthood?

The love, too, he supposed was overwhelming. The kind that made his heart clench, made him want to fix the world for her and burn it down at the same time. The kind he'd kill and die for.

And somehow, despite everything he'd seen and done in only eighteen years, this was the scariest thing he'd encountered to date. He kept it together for her. He was strong. He had to be.

He's Dean Winchester.

[thewnchstrs]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Pairing: Winchester!Sister (OC)

Summary: When Bobby falls into a coma and can't be awakened, Sam, Dean and Ellie race to his side.

Disclaimers: almost smut, near-death, mentions of childhood abuse, blood

Word Count:  9.7k

S E R I E S   M A S T E R L I S T

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Dean’s POV

I could hear the Doobie Brothers even from where I parked the Impala outside of the last dive bar in town after having dropped Ellie off down the street to do some searching on foot. I yanked the bar door open, frantically looking around for any sign of Sam who’d been missing for the better part of four hours. 

I breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted him sitting at the bar hunched over a glass. “There you are.” Sam looked up at me. I raised my eyebrows, arms raised. “What are you doing?”

“Having a drink,” he slurred.

I eyed the dark liquid moving slowly around inside the glass before looking back to Sam with a questioning look. “It's two in the afternoon. You drinking whiskey?”

“I drink whiskey all the time.”

“No you don't.”

“What's the big deal? You get sloppy in bars, you hit on chicks all the time. Why can't I?”

I glanced around the six other patrons, spotting only one woman who was in her mid forties with blazing red hair. I looked back to Sam, “It's kind of slim pickings around here. What's going on with you?”

Sam looked back down to his glass, swirling the alcohol. “I tried, Dean.”

“To do what?” He wasn’t making any sense.

“To save you.”

I watched him for a second before pulling out the bar stool beside him, realizing it'd probably be a while before I could get him out of here. I motioned to the bartender, “Can I get a whiskey? Double, neat.”

“I'm serious, Dean.”

“No, you're drunk.”

“I mean, where you're going...what you're gonna become. I can't stop it,” he said, defeated. From where I sat now I could see that the rims of his eyes were red. “I'm starting to think maybe even Ruby can't stop it. But really, the thing is...no one can save you.”

Although it's what I knew all along, hearing it come from Sam made my heart sink a little. “That's what I've been telling you.”

“No, that's not what I mean...I mean, no one can save you, because you don't wanna be saved,” he said, looking at me now. I kept my eyes on his, trying to understand where all this was coming from. “I mean, how can you care so little about yourself? What's wrong with you?”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared back at Sam when my ringtone cut through the tension. We both looked away as I pulled my phone out, not recognizing the number. “Hello? Yes, this is Mr. Snyderson.” A low, firm voice was on the other end when he said something that automatically made my heart sink. The urgency in my tone making Sam look to me. “What? Where?”

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Ellie’s POV

It nearly killed me to see Bobby look so vulnerable in the hospital's bed. He was found unconscious in his motel room, but he didn’t look sick, he looked like he was just sleeping. I looked to the doctor, crossing my arms over my chest, “So, what's the diagnosis?”

The doctor shook his head, flipping through Bobby's file. “We've tested everything we can think to test. He seems perfectly healthy."

“Except that he's comatose,” I pointed out.

“Mr. Snyderson, you're his emergency contact,” the doctor ignored me, looking to Dean who flicked his eyes to the doctor. “Anything we should know? Any illnesses?”

Dean wracked his memory, “No, he- he never gets sick. I mean, he doesn't even catch cold.”

“Doctor, is there anything you can do?” Sam asked.

“Look, I'm sorry, but we don't know what's causing it...so we don't know how to treat it." I looked to Bobby, wondering just what kind of trouble he got himself into to get this way. “He just...went to sleep, and didn't wake up.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

We hoped Bobby’s last motel room he was staying in could give us some idea as to what happened to him. Sam looked back at us as he opened the door to the room, “So, what was Bobby doing in Pittsburgh?”

“Unless he's taking an extremely lame vacation...” Dean said as we looked around the seemingly normal room.

“I mean, he must have been working a job, right?” I assumed, the three of us opening cupboards, drawers, desks, but nothing even gave away that Bobby had ever actually been here. If it hadn’t been for the paramedics telling us the room number, I would’ve insisted it was the wrong room.

“Well, you think there'd be some sort of sign of something, you know? Research, news clippings...Or a fuckin' pizza box or a beer can,” Dean said as he loudly shut one of the dresser drawers.

“How 'bout this?” Sam said from behind Dean and I where he stood in front of the open closet. He pushed aside the t-shirts and pants to reveal the back wall of the closet filled with maps, obituaries, diagrams of flowers and mushrooms along with different herbs.

“Good ol' Bobby, always covering up his tracks,” Dean chuckled.

“You make heads or tails of any of this?” Sam asked.

Dean reached into the closet and pulled down a print out depicting a flower, “‘Silene capensis’, which of course means absolutely nothing to me.”

“Here,” I said, pulling the obituary clipping from the wall. “‘Dr. Walter Gregg, sixty-four, university neurologist.’”

“How'd he bite it?”

I scanned the page, frowning, “Actually, they don't know. They say he just went to sleep and didn't wake up.”

Dean took the obituary from me, examining it. “That sound familiar to you?”

Sam leaned against the closet doorframe. “Alright...so let's say Bobby was looking into the doc's death. You know, hunting after something-"

“—that started hunting him,” I finished, nodding along to Sam’s theory.

Dean nodded too. “Alright, stay here. See if you guys can make heads or tails of this.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, “What are you gonna do?”

Dean smiled, “I'm gonna look into the good doctor myself.”

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Dean’s POV 

“So you're Dr. Gregg's lab assistant?” I asked as she led me into Walter Gregg's office.

“That's right.”

I glanced around the place, the shiny oak desk, the numerous bookshelves and tall windows with the blinds drawn. His desk was cluttered with pens, books and papers like he’d disappeared out of thin air right in the middle of working. “His death must have come as a shock to you.”

She nodded. “Yeah, it did. But, still, to go in your sleep, peaceful...that’s what you wish for, right?”

“Yeah. Right,” I said as I looked back at the desk, picking up a book on sleep studies. “Dr. Gregg uh…studied sleeping disorders? Dreams?”

“I don't understand. I went over all of this with the other detective,” she said, seeming suspicious of me already.

I narrowed my eyes at her, “You already spoke to another detective?”

“Yes. A very nice older man with a beard.”

At least we knew we were on the right track if Bobby had already been here. “Well, I'd love to hear it again if you don't mind.”

The woman hesitated, “Thing is, I'm sort of busy. Maybe we could do this later?”

“Sure. Yeah. Just bring you down to the station later this afternoon, and get your statement on tape, do it all official-like,” I said, making her squirm under my gaze. She tore her eyes from mine.

“Look, okay, I didn't know about Dr. Gregg's experiments. Not until I was cleaning out his files.”

“His experiments...the ones he was conducting on...sleeping?” 

“No one knew, okay? Not the university, not anybody,” she said quickly before defensively crossing her arms over her chest. “I already spoke with a lawyer and he told me I can't be held liable for anything.”

I racked my brain for anything to get this girl talking. “Maybe you couldn't, but that was before the new evidence came to light.”

She furrowed her eyebrows and shifted on her feet, “New evidence? What new evidence?”

I hesitated this time before settling with my go-to: “I'm not at liberty to say.”

“Look, I'm just a grad student. This was a gig to cover tuition,” she said, anxiously running her hands through her hair.

“Maybe so. But, uh, still, this- this...this could go on your permanent record,” I bullshitted, making her eyes widen slightly. “Unless you hand over the doctor's research to me. All of it.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I desperately tried to keep my gaze ahead of me, failing as multiple college girls brushed past me in the dorm stairwells. I smirked over my shoulder, watching them descend the stairs until I’d made it to the room I was looking for.

I banged hard twice on the door, holding my badge up to the peephole. The kid slowly opened the door, the unmistakable smell of weed rolling out of the room. "You Jeremy?"

“Look, I don't know what the RA said, but I was growing ferns.”

I chuckled as I stepped inside, “Take it easy, Phish, that's not why I'm here.”

He visibly relaxed, “Really? Oh, thank god. Okay.”

I glanced around the cluttered dorm room. “I wanna talk to you about Dr. Gregg's sleep study.”

“Yeah. Dr. Gregg just died, right?”

I nodded. “You were one of his test subjects, right?”

“Yeah,” he said as he opened the small mini fridge behind him, holding a beer out to me before he paused. “Unless you're on duty or something?”

I glanced from the beer to the open door out to the hallway before shrugging, “I guess I can make an exception.” I took a long drink from the beer before opening up the files in my hands. “Now, Dr. Gregg was testing treatments for a ‘Charcot-Wilbrand syndrome’? Which means...?”

“I can't dream,” he said simply. “I had this bike accident when I was a kid and banged my head pretty good and I haven't had a dream since. 'Til the study. You know. Sort of.”

I frowned, nodding as I rifled through the papers. “What'd the doc give you?”

“It's this yellow tea. It…it smelled awful, tasted worse.”

“What’d it do?” Jeremy shrugged, “Just passed right out. I had the most vivid, super-intense dream. Like a bad acid trip, you know?”

“Totally,” I said instinctively before coughing, getting back into character. “I mean, no.”

“That was it. I dropped out of the study right after that,” he said as he took another drink. “I didn't...like it. To tell you the truth...it kind of scared me.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

By the time I made it back to Bobby’s room, Sam and Dean were sitting at Bobby’s bedside, whispering quietly to each other, their conversation immediately dying once I walked in. I ignored the way their words died on their lips as I dropped my papers onto the small table at the end of his bed. “How is he?”

“No change,” Dean said, glancing to Sam and then back to me. “What’d you find?”

“Well, considering what you told me about the doc's experiments…Bobby's wall is starting to make a hell of a lot more sense,” I said, flipping the folder open.

“How so?”

I picked up the first print, handing it to Sam. “This plant, Silene Capensis, is also known as African Dream Root. It's been used by shaman and medicine men for centuries.”

Dean looked up at me, “Let me guess. They dose up, bust out the didgeridoos, start kicking around the hackey.”

“Not quite,” I chuckled. “If you believe the legends, it's used for dream-walking. Entering another person's dreams, poking around in their heads.”

“I take it we believe the legends,” Sam said as I handed them more papers.

"When don't we? But dream-walking is just the tip of the iceberg."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, this Dream Root is some serious mojo. You take enough of it, with practice, you can become a regular Freddy Krueger,” I said, looking to Bobby. “You can control anything. You could turn bad dreams good, you could turn good dreams bad."

"And killing people in their sleep?" Dean assumed.

I shrugged, "For example."

Sam nodded, "So let's say this doc was testing this stuff on his patients, Tim Leary-style."

"Somebody gets pissed at him, decides to give him a little dream visit, he goes nighty-night,” I confirmed.

"But what about Bobby?” Dean questioned, the one piece of the puzzle I couldn’t quite place. “I mean, if the killer came after him, how come he's still alive?"

"I don't know,” I said honestly, hoping we could figure this all out before whatever got to the other victims got to him, too.

"So how do we find our homicidal sandman?" Dean asked as we left Bobby’s room, walking the halls toward the exit. I felt the anxious pressure on my chest begin to lessen the closer we got to the outside. Being in Bobby's room was fine, but the rest of the hospital smelled like antiseptic and old people.

"Could be anyone,” I said. Suddenly the case became a million times more difficult, not to mention dangerous. "Anyone who knew the doctor or had access to his dream shrooms."

"Maybe one of his test subjects or something?" Sam offered.

Dean shrugged at the theory. "Possible. But his research was pretty sketchy. I mean...I don't know how many subjects he had, or who all of them were." We rounded a corner as Sam scoffed. Dean looked at him in confusion. "What?"

"In any other case, we'd be calling Bobby and asking him for help right now,” Sam said.

At Sam’s words, Dean suddenly stopped in realization, a hand held out to stop Sam and I from going any further. I suppressed a groan, eyeing the exit just ahead of us. "You know what? You're right.”

Sam glanced at me then back to Dean, confused, "What?"

"Let's go talk to him,” Dean insisted.

I furrowed my eyebrows at the suggestion, unsure whether or not Dean was fucking with us. "Sure, but I think we might find the conversation a bit one-sided."

"Not if we're tripping on some Dream Root."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Sam raised his eyebrows, "You wanna go dream-walking inside Bobby's head?"

"Yeah. Why not? Maybe we could help."

"We have no idea what's crawling around in there."

"Well how bad could it be?"

"Bad."

"Dude, it's Bobby," Dean countered.

I thought about it, weighing our options. It was either that, or risk Bobby getting torn to shreds by this Boogeyman. Sam nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're right. One problem though. We're fresh out of African Dream Root, so unless you know someone who can score some..."

"Shit," Dean groaned.

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, "What?"

"Bela."

"Bela? Shit,” I mumbled, shaking my head at the prospect. “You're actually suggesting we ask her a favor?"

"I'm feeling dirty just thinking about it, but yeah."

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Sam's POV

I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands, my head aching from staring at my laptop screen for what felt like forever. I glanced at my watch, counting down the seconds until I called Dean and Ellie to get back to the motel where I knew they were out just avoiding doing research.

Just as I brought my eyes back up to the screen, there was a knock at the door. Without thinking much about it, I pulled it open, but it wasn’t Ellie or Dean. I groaned as Bela sauntered inside. "Hey, Sam."

"Bela, I didn't think there's a chance in hell you'd show up,” I said honestly as she came to a stop in the middle of the room, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her knee-length jacket. Her legs were bare despite the cold weather outside.

"Well, I'm full of surprises,” she said. She sounded...different. “Though, truthfully...you wanna know why I'm really here?"

She took a step toward me as I took one back, almost reluctantly. She brought her hands down to the straps of her jacket tied around her waist. I swallowed thickly, "Okay."

"Because of you,” she said as she undid the knot and let the jacket fall off her shoulders, nothing but a black, silky, lacy, slip dress beneath it.

I desperately tried to keep my eyes on hers. "Uh...what are you doing?"

"I can't stop thinking about you,” she whispered as she brought her hand up to my cheek.

"What-" my questions were instantly silenced as she leaned forward and kissed me, the kiss deepening every second before I reluctantly pulled away. "Are you sure?"

Bela smiled up at me as she kissed me again. I brought my hands up to her arms as I turned us backwards, walking back until my legs hit the end of the bed and we fell together. Bela’s lips never left mine even as I rolled her over onto her back, kissing down her jaw to her chest and then all the way down her body.

"Sam,” she moaned, gripping my hair in a tight fist. “Sam. Sam!"

"Sam! Wake up!” A harsh voice rang through the room as my eyelids snapped open. The room was sideways from where I was leaning on my arm, drool making a steady stream down my chin and onto my wrist. My smile faded as I slowly sat up, wiping the spit from my face.

"Dude, you were out. And making some serious happy noises,” Dean said from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder where Dean was sitting in the motel arm chair and Ellie was sprawled out on the couch, the two of them marking up numerous sheets of paper.

"Who were you dreaming about?" Ellie asked, smirking.

"What? No one. Nothing,” I dismissed quickly, turning away from them.

"C'mon, you can tell us,” Dean prodded. “Angelina Jolie?"

"No."

There was a beat of silence before Ellie spoke, "Brad Pitt?"

"No. No! Guys, it doesn't matter,” I dismissed, wanting to change the subject altogether.

"Whatever,” Dean said, shrugging it off. "I called Bela."

I paused, slowly turning back toward him, trying to seem nonchalant but it just came out awkwardly. "Bela? Yeah? She- what'd she...you know, say? She...gonna...help us?"

"Shockingly, no, which puts us back to square one. I've been trying to decipher the doctor's notes. Unfortunately, he has worse handwriting than you do."

"You gonna come help with this stuff?" Ellie asked, chewing on the end of her pen, not looking up.

I shifted in my seat, hesitating, my heart still hammering behind my rib cage. "Yeah, yeah. Just give me a sec."

A series of knocks came from the motel’s door, the three of us looking up at it. Dean pulled his legs down from the coffee table in front of him, peering into the peephole before rolling his eyes at us and opening the door. "Bela. As I live and breathe."

I held my breath as Bela came inside, dressed in the same black raincoat she’d had on in my dream. I immediately became even more flustered. Ellie shot her a forced smile from across the room.

"You called me. Remember?" Bela reminded Dean as he shut the door behind her.

"I remember you turning me down."

"Well, I'm just full of surprises,” she smirked.

"Hey, Bela,” I breathed out, trying not to focus too hard on my dream and getting it mixed with reality. I gave her a quick wave before averting my eyes again.

Bela furrowed her eyebrows at me as she opened her purse, pulling out a large jar and passing it to Ellie who was leaning against the small table I was sat at. "I brought you your African Dream Root. Nasty stuff, and not easy to come by."

Ellie turned it over in her hands. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"What? I can't do you a little favor every now and again?" Bela reached for the knot at the front of her jacket, undoing the belt as she slowly let the jacket slide from her shoulders. I held my breath, but instead of the small black slip before, now it was a dark blue long sleeve and pencil skirt. I let out somewhat a sigh of relief.

"No. You can't,” Dean retorted. "Come on, I wanna know what the strings are before you attach 'em."

"You said this was for Bobby Singer, right? Well, I'm doing it for him. Not you."

Dean raised his eyebrows at this, "Bobby? Why?"

Bela hesitated before speaking, "He saved my life once. In Flagstaff. I screwed up and he saved me, okay? You satisfied?"

Dean grinned, “Maybe."

Bela rolled her eyes to the ceiling but pushed his prodding away and beamed, "So when do we go on this little magical mystery tour?"

“Oh, that’s cute,” Ellie said. Dean took the jar from her hands. Bela gave her a puzzled look before looking to Dean.

“Dean—”

"Oh, you're not going anywhere. I don't trust you enough to let you in my car, much less Bobby's head,” he said as he made his way to the closet, opened the safe where the Colt was safely tucked inside and set the jar of African Dream Root beside it. He snapped the safe shut and spun the dial. “No offense."

"None taken,” Bela said, agitated. “It's 2AM. Where am I supposed to go?"

"Get a room. They got the Magic Fingers, a little Casa Erotica on pay-per-view. You'll love it." Bela was starting to visibly become angry when she realized we’d used her just like all the times she’s used us. She snatched her coat from the chair, huffing as she yanked the door open.

"Nice to see—” I started, standing just as the door slammed shut behind her. “...see you...Bela." Dean and Ellie glanced sideways at me, confused.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

Dean and I sat at the end of each of the motel beds as Sam brought the glasses of the dream root mixture. It looked less than appetizing: a light brown and green liquid with white foam bubbling on top. I didn’t dare ask him what was floating around in it. I hesitantly took it from his hands, staring down into it as he sat beside me.

"Should we dim the lights and synch up Wizard of Oz to Dark Side of the Moon?" Dean grinned. Sam and I furrowed our eyebrows.

"Why?" Sam questioned.

A beat passed between them as Dean narrowed his eyes, “What did you do during college?"

Sam scoffed. Dean then began to bring the cup to his lips when Sam suddenly stopped him, "Wait, wait, wait. Can't forget this. Here."

Pulling a small manila envelope from his shirt pocket, he plucked out three very small, fine strands. He placed one piece into my open palm and then Dean’s. I examined it, wrinkling my nose, "What the hell is that?"

"Bobby's hair." I glanced at him, "We have to drink Bobby's hair?"

"That's how you control whose dream you're entering. You gotta...drink some of their uh...some of their body."

Dean looked down at his palm, "Well, guess the hair of the dog is better than other parts of the body."

I hesitantly agreed as I dropped the hair into the unknown mixture. I sighed, "Bottoms up."

We chugged the drinks as quickly as we could, trying not to process the rancidness of it. I winced, forcing myself to finish it completely. I pulled the glass away, swallowing the last of it.

A moment passed before Sam spoke up, "Feel anything?"

I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve. "No. You feel anything?"

"No,” Dean said, stumped. He looked into his empty cup. “Maybe we got some bad schwag."

The sound of rain hitting the window filled the room. I looked toward the drawn curtains. "When did it start raining?"

Dean stood from the bed, pulling the curtains apart. "When did it start raining upside down?"

Sure enough, the rain was climbing upward against the glass. Sam and I stood from the bed, turning when we realized we were no longer in the motel but a dark, crowded living room.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. “I think we did it.”

"Okay, I don't know what's weirder – the fact that we're in Bobby's head...or that he's dreaming of Better Homes and Gardens,” Dean said.

"Wait. Wait a second,” Sam said, narrowing his eyes at our surroundings. “Imagine the place without the paint job. More cluttered, dusty, books all over the place." We began to meander around the living room. Now that I was truly looking at it, it did feel familiar. The wallpaper, the couch, the pictures framed on the walls. Suddenly it hit me: “It's Bobby's house."

"Yeah," Sam chuckled. There was just one thing missing.

"Bobby?!" Dean called out, his voice reverberating off the walls.

"Bobby?" Sam called up the stairs, but nothing.

I continued walking throughout the living room when my eyes settled on the front door. "Hey, I'm gonna go look outside."

"No, no, no, stay close," Dean protested.

"I'll be fine. Just, look around in here," I protested. Dean still looked unsure. "Look, we gotta find him."

Dean still didn't seem like he loved the plan. "Don't do anything stupid."

I nodded once before pulling the back door open, stepping out onto the porch, instantly stopping in my tracks. It was daylight, when before the house was swimming in darkness. But that wasn't the weirdest part. The lawn was a bright green, trimmed closely to the sidewalk that led to the house, lined with pink, yellow and red tulips. I furrowed my eyebrows at the scene. For as long as we'd known him, Bobby's house never looked like this.

The sound of the door slamming shut behind me made me jump. I quickly turned, trying the doorknob that wouldn't budge. I pounded my closed fist against the wood. "Sam! Dean!"

I turned toward the windows when neither of them heard me. Inside, I could see Sam still investigating the living room, his back turned to me. The house was still dark inside, even though the curtains were drawn. I slapped my hand against the window. “Sam!”

When he still hadn't heard me, I huffed, descending the porch stairs. I knew I'd have to find another way back inside.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam's POV

I pulled open the double doors that none of us had checked since we got here. I had a feeling I knew what was behind them, even though they'd since been taken out for as long as I've known Bobby. The doors led me into the kitchen, but it looked much different than I was used to. Light blue walls and pristine, sparkling white counter tops, placemats on a small, round dining room table. A damn cat clock was nailed to the wall.

"Bobby?"

As Dean and I walked deeper into the kitchen, I whipped around toward the door at the end of the hall. A quiet, murmuring voice coming from inside. I began to walk toward it when a familiar voice called us back. “Who's out there?"

Dean looked to the pantry, to me, and then back to the door. “Bobby, you in there?”

“Dean?”

“Yeah. It's me. Open up." The pantry door opened, Bobby, looking panicked, peered around the corner of the fridge.

“How in the hell did you find me?”

“We got our hands on some of that Dream Root stuff.”

Bobby's eyebrows furrowed, still looking for an unseen threat around the corner. “Dream Root? What?”

“Dr. Gregg, the experiments?” I said, trying to jog his memory.

“What the hell are you talking about?" Suddenly, the door across the hall began to shake violently as someone on the other side was banging on it. The lights above us started flickering. Bobby's eyes widened as he grabbed us, turning back toward the pantry. "Hurry.”

Dean stopped in place, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What's going on?”

“She's coming," he said, sounding terrified.

“You do know this is a dream, don't you?” I tried to reason, but it was no use.

“What are you, crazy!?”

“It's a dream, Bobby! None of this is real!” I shouted at him over the shaking doorframe when suddenly the door flew off its hinges. The pantry door behind us slamming shut. We were cornered.

“Does that look made-up?” He asked, pointing past us. I followed his terrified gaze as a woman, dressed in all white came through the doorway. Blood soaked her dress, open and leaking stab wounds covered her chest.

“Bobby, who is that?” Dean asked.

Bobby hesitated as the woman came closer. “She's...she's my wife.”

My heart sank. I always knew Bobby had been married before, but he refused to ever talk about what'd happened to her. She drew closer. “Why Bobby? Why did you do this to me?”

“I'd rather died myself than hurt you," Bobby said, pain laced throughout his voice. Mine and Dean's eyes bounced between the two of them.

“But you did hurt me. You shoved that knife into me. Again and again. You watched me bleed. Watched me die.”

Dean grabbed Bobby's jacket in an another attempt to shake something loose, “Bobby, she's not real!”

Bobby didn't take his eyes off what seemed to be a spirit. “You were possessed, baby. You were rabid. And I didn't know what I know now. I didn't know how to save you.”

“You're lying. You wanted me dead!" She shouted. "If you'd loved me, you would've found a way!”

“I'm sorry," Bobby pleaded before she ran at us at full speed. I gripped Bobby by his arm, yanking him back into the living room and slamming the sliding doors shut before she could make it through.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

I followed the path of flowers around the house that lead to the back where there was a fenced-in garden, no sign of the junkyard that has always surrounded Bobby's house, since we've known him at least. I had just ducked under a clothesline hung with white sheets when I heard quiet footsteps behind me. I whipped around, but not quick enough to react to the bat being swung right at my chest. I fell to the ground, holding my shoulder where I'd been hit. I narrowed my eyes at the man above me. "Who are you?”

“Who are you? You don't belong here.”

“You're one to talk. You're in my friend's head.”

“You got a poor choice in friends. This is self-defense. He came after me. He wanted to hurt me!"

"That may be because you're a killer."I could tell now that this guy was my age, maybe even younger.

“You should be nicer to me. In here...you're just an insect. I'm a god.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam's POV

Dean and I threw ourselves up against the double doors. Bobby continued to look stunned as he stood helpless in the middle of the living room. The doors behind Dean and I shook as we gripped the doorframe, trying to keep her at bay. “I'm telling you, all of it. Your house, your wife, it's a nightmare!”

“I killed her," Bobby mumbled, not having even heard what Dean was trying to tell him. I looked to my left, noticing a wire dangling from a table lamp. I yanked it from the wall, pulling it free from the lamp.

“Bobby, this is your dream. And you can wake up," Dean said as I began to tied the wire around the double door's round knobs. "I mean, hell, you can do anything.”

The screaming continued on the other side of the door, the wood shaking against the pounding of her fists. I wasn't sure how much longer they'd hold.

“Just leave me alone. Let her kill me already.”

Dean had finally had enough, grabbing Bobby by the shoulders as he pulled him away from the doors. “Look at me. You gotta snap out of this now! You're not gonna die. I'm not gonna let you die! You're like a father to me." Dean was gripping the front of Bobby's jacket in his fists, pleading. His eyes were wide, searching Bobby's face. "You gotta believe me, please.”

Bobby hesitated, unsure of what to believe. “I'm dreaming?”

“Yes! Now take control of it.”

Bobby watched Dean for a moment before slowing his breathing, closing his eyes. It only took a second before the screaming and pounding stopped. I looked at the double doors. Slowly, I untied the wire and slid the doors apart. Sunshine shown in through the kitchen windows, no woman in sight.

“I don't believe it," Bobby muttered.

“Believe it," I said, turning back to him. "Now would you please wake up?"

In an instant, the three of us shot up in bed, back in the motel room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

We'd gotten the call almost immediately that Bobby was awake. Dean and I stayed behind in the hospital room as Sam went to go check on Jeremy, who Dean was able to decipher after I told them what I saw.

We were flipping through Dr. Gregg's case files when Dean finally spoke up, breaking the silence, “Hey, Bobby. That stuff with your wife...that actually happen?”

“Everybody got into hunting somehow," Bobby said. It was horrible hearing about Bobby's dream, about his wife. I realized now why he never talked about her. Part of me wished it was just a horrible nightmare and not his past catching up with him.

“I'm sorry," Dean said.

“Don't be sorry. If it weren't for you, I'd still be lost in there. Or dead. Thank you."

A beat of silence passed as him and Dean looked to each other before Sam came in through the open door. "So, stoner boy wasn't in his dorm. My guess is he's long gone by now.”

“He ain't much of a stoner," Bobby said, reading from Dr. Gregg's file on him. "His name's Jeremy Frost. Full-on genius. Hundred-and-sixty IQ. Which is sayin' something, considering his dad took a baseball bat to his head. Here's Father of the Year.” He handed Sam a printed copy of Henry Frost's driver's license. “He died before Jeremy was ten.”

“Looks like a real sweetheart," I said as Sam passed the picture to me. He reminded me a lot of the guys dad used to be friends with from the military: rugged, usually drunk.

“Injury gave him Charcot-Wilbrand," Bobby said. "He hasn't dreamt since.”

“Til he started dosing the dream drug," Dean said. “How'd he know how to dig up your worst nightmare and throw it at you?”

“Hey, he was rooting around in my skull. God knows what he saw in there.”

“How'd he get in there in the first place?" I asked. "Isn't he supposed to have some of your hair, your DNA, or something?”

Bobby nodded, “Yeah. Before I knew it was him, he offered me a beer. I drank it. Dumbest fuckin' thing.”

“Oh, I don't know," Dean chuckled nervously. "It wasn't that dumb.”

I turned to him, sensing his embarrassment, “Dean, you didn't.”

“...I was thirsty," he admitted.

Sam scoffed, “That's great. Now he can come after either one of you.”

“Well, now we just have to find him first.”

“We better work fast...and coffee up," Bobby said. "Because the one thing we cannot do is fall asleep.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

2 Days Later.

Sam and I closely watched Dean whose been on edge all day. His hands were gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. “I mean, this Jeremy guy's not a fuckin' ghost. Where the hell could he be?”

Sam glanced at me before looking back at Dean. “Dean, you sure you don't want me to drive? You seem a little...caffeinated.”

“Well, thanks for the news flash, Edison!” Dean shouted. I eyed the speedometer when Dean's phone rang. He fumbled with it as he pulled it from his pocket, frustration and caffeine making him clumsy. He snapped it open, “Tell me you got something!”

“Strip club was a bust, huh?” Bobby said on the other end.

“Yeah," I sighed, crossing it off our list. “That was our last lead.”

“What the hell, Bobby!” Dean shouted into the phone.

“Don't yell at me, boy. I'm working my ass off here!”

Dean tried to lower his tone, running a hand down his face. “Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm- I'm tired. What's Bela got?”

“What do you got, Bela?" Bobby asked. We could hear her in the background, but not enough to make out what she was saying. "She's got nothing.”

“Great! Well, I'm just gonna go blow my brains out now!” Dean slammed the phone shut and threw it to the seat between him and Sam. He closed his fist, bring it up to his mouth when suddenly, he veered the car onto a hidden road. “Alright, that's it. I'm done." He threw the car into park and cut the engine, settling into the seat.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Taking myself a long-overdue nap.”

Sam's eyes widened, “What?! Dean, Jeremy can come after you.”

“That's the idea.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on man, we can't find him, so let him come to me!"

“On his own turf? Where he's basically a god?”

“I can handle it," Dean huffed out, his eyes already closed and his arms crossed over his chest.

“Not alone, you can't," Sam said before quickly plucking a strand of hair from Dean's head. I followed suit. I wasn't gonna leave them to clean up this mess.

“Ow! What are you doing?” He yelped, grabbing at the back of his head.

“We're coming in with you," I said.

“No, you're not.”

"Why not? At least then it'll be three against one.”

Dean hesitated, looking to Sam and I, “'Cause I don't want you digging around in my head.”

“Too bad," Sam said already beginning to make the Dream Root mixture.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I sat up first, blinking away sleep. We were still in the car. I nudged Sam and Dean who sat upright, looking around the small enclosed dirt road we fell asleep parked on. "What are we still doing here?”

“I have no idea," Dean said.

A sound came just outside the car. Sam looked to us, “There's someone out there.”

We quietly filed out of the car, listening for more signs of what we assumed would be Jeremy. Then, I heard the noise again, soft and melodic. It was...music?

Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'.

“Hey," a voice said soothingly. The three of us turned. A woman, bathed in golden light despite the darkness consuming us, with dark hair and a yellow dress perched upon a plaid blanket. A picnic basket and bottle of wine were next to her. Dean froze in place at the sight of her. She smiled sweetly. I recognized her. Lisa. "You gonna sit down?”

Sam and I stood back. Dean gulped. Lisa patted the blanket and picked up the bottle of wine, refiling her glass. “Come on. We only have an hour before we have to pick Ben up from baseball.”

Say nighty-night and kiss me. Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me.

“I've never had this dream before," Dean muttered, looking at us over his shoulder. Sam and I continued to watch Dean, knowing he was bluffing. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Dean," Lisa said. Dean looked longingly at her. "I love you.”

Dream a little dream of me.

Suddenly, the music cut out and the image of Lisa flickered until she was no longer in front of us.

“Where'd she go?” Dean breathed out.

We looked around the dense forest when Sam motioned toward the other side of the tree line. “Jeremy.”

Sam led the way, Dean and I following close behind. I kept my eyes trained on Sam's brown jacket, trying not to lose him as we dodged in and out of the trees. It wasn't until I'd happened to glance behind me when I realized Dean was nowhere to be found. I stopped, looking every which way, my chest quickly rising and falling. "Dean!?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

One second, I'm trailing behind Ellie in the pursuit of Jeremy through the thick forest and the next second, I'm not in the forest at all. I slide to a stop before I run straight into the wall ahead of me, painted with green oak trees. I slowly turned around, knowing that this was a dream. Knowing that anything was possible.

I was in a long hallway, doors lining the walls on either side of me. I glanced at each one, but it wasn't until I'd reached the end when the door ahead of me creaked open on its own, seemingly inviting me in. I stepped inside, quickly realizing I was back where this all started: Bobby's motel room. A faint clicking noise came from the otherwise silent, dark room. It was a man, sitting at the desk. His back was facing me, clicking the desk lamp on...off...on...off.

“Jeremy?” I called out to him. The clicking stopped, leaving the desk light on. In the light, I could tell it wasn't Jeremy at all. The figure looked halfway over its shoulder before standing, confirming what I feared deep in my stomach.

“Hey, Dean," it said. It was wearing my clothes, had my voice, in my skin.

“Well, aren't you a handsome son of a gun.”

“We need to talk.”

I nodded as we began circling each other around the small room. “I get it. I get it. I'm my own worst nightmare, is that it? Kind of like the Superman III junkyard scene? A little mano y mano with myself?”

“Joke all you want, smart-ass," he said. It was unsettling to say the least. We stopped on opposite sides of the room. "But you can't lie to me. I know the truth. I know how dead you are inside...how worthless you feel. I know how you look into a mirror...and hate what you see.”

I ground my teeth, “Sorry, pal. It's not gonna work. You're not real.”

“Sure I am. I'm you.”

“I don't think so. 'Cause see, this is my siesta. Not yours. All I gotta do is snap my fingers and you go bye-bye," I said, ready to get this shit over with, knowing that the longer I stayed inside this part of my dreams, the longer Sam and Ellie would be alone to hunt down Jeremy. I snapped my fingers, expecting him to disappear. However, he only continued to stare back, solid as a rock. I snapped again and again before I realized it was no use. My hand fell to my side.

He smirked, as if he knew I'd try that. “I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you.” The door behind him slammed shut, the deadbolt locking into place. My heart rate began to pick up speed. He lifted a shotgun -- my shotgun -- that seemed to have materialized out of thin air. “Like I said...we need to talk.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie's POV

Simultaneously, Sam and I shot up in our seats in the Impala, yet Dean stayed asleep. Sam grabbed him at the shoulder, trying to shake him awake, “Dean. Hey. Wake up.”

Instead, it was Jeremy in the front seat. Quicker than either of us could react, Jeremy used the end of his baseball bat to smash into Sam's shoulder so hard I heard an audible pop. He groaned in agony, opening the passenger side door as he rolled from the car. I quickly grabbed Jeremy in a headlock from behind, but he was faster. He grabbed me by my shoulders, yanking me over the front bench seat. My back landed hard against the dash board, making me suck in a painful breath of air. He stood from the car, pulling me out by my arms and dropping me to the forest floor. I scrambled to my feet, rounding the car to meet Sam but the unmistakable sound of the bat slicing through the air filled my ears before it came crashing down on the middle of my back. I crumpled to the ground next to Sam, the two of us shuffling away as quickly as we could from Jeremy who loomed over us.

“Boy, you just don't know when to leave well enough alone, do you?” He said, swinging the bat in circles.

“You're a psycho," Sam spit at him as we maneuvered backward on the forest floor.

Jeremy bared his teeth. “You're wrong.”

“Yeah? Tell that to Dr. Gregg.”

He scoffed, “The doc? No, no. The doc's the one that got me hooked on this stuff and then he took it away. But I needed it, and he wouldn't let me have it.”

“So you killed him?” I asked. Sam and I continued to kick at the wet grass beneath us to put as much distance between us and him but he continued to loom over us.

“I can dream again. Do you know what that's like, not to be able to dream? You never rest, not really. It's like being awake for fifteen years.”

“And let me guess," Sam said, holding his shoulder. "That makes you go crazy?”

“I just wanna be left alone. I just wanna dream.”

“Sorry," I said. "Can't do that.”

Jeremy paused, looking between Sam and I before suddenly we were forced flat onto the ground. I lifted my head, looking down at mine and Sam's hands that were tied with ropes and secured with large stakes into the ground. Our feet were bound at the ankles. I tried pulling, but the knots only seemed to tighten, digging into my skin.

Jeremy stepped forward, looking down at the bat in his hand. No doubt the same bat that put him in this situation in the first place. “I'm getting better and better at this. Stronger and stronger all the time." I looked to Sam, praying he had an answer to get us out of here. "But you two, your brother? You're not waking up. Not this time. I'm not gonna let you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

I didn't take my eyes off this other version of me. There was something off about him. We were circling each other again, like predators. “I mean, you're going to Hell and you won't lift a finger to stop it. Talk about low self-esteem. Then again, I guess it's not much of a life worth saving, now is it?”

“Wake up, Dean. Come on, wake up," I muttered to myself, unsure of where this was going. I knew that it wouldn't only be me that would die if I couldn't get back into my own body, but Sam and Ellie, too.

“I mean, after all, you've got nothing outside of Ellie and Sam," he went on, stopping in front of the desk. "You are nothing. You're as mindless and obedient as an attack dog.”

“Now that's not true," I said, trying to dismiss his words but knew I couldn't. This wasn't some monster trying to get into my head. This is my head.

“No? What are the things that you want? What are the things that you dream? I mean, your car? That's dad’s. Your favorite leather jacket? Dad's. Your music? Dad's. Do you even have an original thought?" He spat. I shook my head, trying to drown his words out. "No. No, all there is is, ‘watch out for Sammy and El. Look out for your siblings, boy!’ You can still hear your dad’s voice in your head, can't you?" He brought the barrel of the shotgun up to his temple, tapping it lightly. "Clear as a bell.”

“Just shut up," I warned, feeling a burning in my chest at his words because I knew, better than anyone, that they were true.

“I mean, think about it...all he ever did was train you, boss you around." He took a step closer. "But Sam and Ellie...them he doted on. Them, he loved.”

“I mean it. I'm getting angry," I warned again, but he went on.

“Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument. Your own father didn't care whether you lived or died. Why should you!?”

I reached my boiling point, shoving him so hard against his chest that he flew across the room and smacked the wall behind him. “Son of a bitch! My father was an obsessed bastard!”

He tried to get up but I was faster, kicking him square in the chest, sending him flying back against the stone. I grabbed the shotgun, shoving it against his chest and shoulders, keeping him pinned to the wall. “All that crap he dumped on me, about protecting Sam and Ellie, that was his shit! He's the one who couldn't protect his family!”

I swung the shotgun back, bringing it three times across his face and pinned him again. “He's the one who let mom die. Who wasn't there for Sam and Ellie! I always was! He wasn't there! I didn't deserve what he put on me. And I don't deserve to go to Hell!"

For one last time I pulled the shotgun away and pumped four rounds into his chest, blood spraying.

My chest rose and fell quickly as I stepped toward my own lifeless body, slumped against the wall of the motel. Suddenly, the figure's eyes snapped open, clicking to pools of black. I took a quick step back, my eyes wide. “You can't escape me, Dean. You're gonna die. And this? This is what you're gonna become!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

"Please, stop!" I begged over and over as Jeremy continued to bring the bat down over Sam's beaten body. He groaned in pain, trying to dodge the blows but it was no use. "Stop!"

Jeremy looked to me, his chest heaving as he brought the bat down, but this time swinging it at my sides. Air escaped my lungs as the blows continued to rain down.

"Jeremy, stop!" Sam pleaded, but it was like Jeremy was in a trance, or he didn't care, or maybe both.

He finally took a step back and I could finally catch my breath. The faint taste of blood at the back of my throat. He pointed his bat down at me, just inches from my face. “You can't stop me. There's nothing I can't do in here.”

“Because of the Dream Root," I gasped out. I definitely had a few broken ribs. "Well, you're forgetting something.”

Jeremy shifted, planting his feet on the ground on either side of my hips. He squared his own as he raised the bat over his shoulder once again, working up what looked like would be a lethal blow right to my head. My blood ran cold. “What's that?”

I smiled, feeling blood coating my teeth now. “I took the Dream Root, too.”

A booming voice sounded on the other side of the forest clearing. “Jeremy! Jeremy!”

Jeremy whipped around at the sound of the man's voice, panic replacing the blood-thirsty look in his eyes. “No. No...dad?”

“You answer me when I'm talking to you, boy," Henry Frost stepped closer to his son who took two steps back for each one his father ascended upon him.

With his guard down, the ropes vanished. Sam was on his feet in an instant, using Jeremy's own bat to collide into his face. I hurried to my feet, watching as Sam swung one last time, bringing the bat down onto Jeremy's skull.

I flew upright in my seat in the car, Sam and Dean following suit. I gripped my chest to steady my racing heart.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

We followed Bobby back into the motel room where Dean was just getting off the phone, turning to us, “Hey, you guys seen Bela? She's not in her room. She's not answering her phone.”

“She must've taken off or something," Bobby suggested.

“Just like that? It's a little weird," Sam said. “Yeah well, if you ask me what's weird is why she helped us in the first place," Bobby said.

I looked at him, confused, “I thought you saved her life.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The thing in Flagstaff.”

Bobby raised his eyebrows, searching his memory. “That thing in Flagstaff was an amulet. I gave her a good deal, that's all.” Sam, Dean and I looked to each other. “You three better check your pockets.” Immediately, we patted the pockets of our coats and jeans. Bobby sighed. “Not literally.”

Suddenly, Dean widened his eyes as he turned directly toward the safe in the closet. “No, no, no, no.”

I watched in shock as he pulled the safe door open. Where once the Colt had been safely tucked inside, it was now gone. I clenched my jaw. “The Colt. Bela stole the Colt.”

“Damn it, kids!” Bobby shouted, shaking his head.

“Pack your shit," Dean said, grabbing the keys for the car. “We're gonna go hunt the bitch down.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean's POV

I glanced sideways at Sam as we stood at the trunk of Baby, zipping our duffles. “Hey, Sam. I was wondering. When you were in my head, what did you see?”

Sam shook his head, “Just Jeremy. He kept us separated from you. Easier to beat our brains out that way, I guess. What about you? You never said.”

I bit my tongue, thankful that was all he'd seen. “Nothing. I was looking for you two the whole time.”

I slammed the trunk shut, the two of us rounding the car and slid into the front seat. I turned the engine over, glancing in the rearview mirror to where Ellie was coming out of the motel, helping Bobby carry his things to his truck. My throat constricted. Although I'd hardly slept the last three days, I laid awake all last night, unable to get the image of me with black eyes out of my head. “Sam.”

“Yeah?”

I tossed around everything in my head that I wanted to say, “I've been doing some thinking, and...well, the thing is..." I paused, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "I don't wanna die. I don't wanna go to Hell.”

Sam was quiet for a minute before he nodded. I couldn't meet his gaze. “Alright. Yeah. We'll find a way to save you.”

I tried my best at a half-hearted smile but it came out as more of a grimace. I knew the chances were slim to none. “Okay, good.”

“You can't escape me, Dean.” The words rolled through my head again. I gripped the wheel. “You're gonna die.” I cranked the music louder in an attempt to drown out my own voice but it was no use. “And this? This is what you're gonna become!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

FOREVER TAG LIST

@spnbaby-67​​​ / @luciferslucille​ / @anti-social-club​ / @search-bar​ / @mellorine-paprika​ / @thepocketshoelace​ / @jaremish​ / @the-salty-asian​ / @robynannemackenzie-blog​ / @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​ / @caswinchester2000​ / @damnedimpala​ / @lauren-novak​ / @adeanmon​ / @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ / @defenderrosetyler​ / @resanoona​​ / @nyotamalfoy ​/ @ykta-m​​

EPISODE REWRITE TAG LIST

@strangedeerconnoisseur​ / @artemisandromedaathena-blog​ / @elite4cekalyma​ / @dragon-master-kai​ / @bxrbiewrites​

WINCHESTER SISTER TAG LIST

@bunnyandy12​ / @breereadsthings​ / @slytherinrising​ / @stressedoutkitten​ / @dragon-master-kai​ / @anniemayvampire / @anniemayvampire / @starfly-nicole

*DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

[hahahahahangst]

The Cake

Tags (as per my masterlist): ❓👨🏻‍👨🏻‍👧🏻💖

Requested by: @themerakisstuff (happy birthday!!!!💕💖 )

Summary: it's your birthday! Sam and Dean seem to have forgot about it... but have they really?

AN: omg my first request AND my first reader insert ❗❗ i am beyond excited!

Sam and Dean have been gone the entire day. They left you in a random motel room. On your fucking birthday. Those two are un-fucking-believable. 

Leaving you alone on your birthday has to be one of the worst things they have done recently. 

You cross your legs on your bed and turn on the TV. Surely, there must be something to watch, right? 

The light of the television lights up your skin in the dark as the sound of the telenovela makes you roll your eyes - you never understood how Dean can enjoy this shit.

You change the channel. Doctor Sexy. Really? Another one of Dean’s favorites. 

Just when he has forgotten about your birthday. The universe really is trying to mess with you. You change the channel once more to land on a documentary. 

Know what? It’s good enough. Documentary on bees? On your birthday? Why would it be the pinnacle of sadness? Speaking about bees… Maybe Cas is available to spend some time together. 

Maybe, since it’s your birthday, you can try and convince him to bring you some cake from that bakery in Fort Wayne. You close your eyes and think of the cake fondly, your stomach growling. 

God, you are hungry. You haven’t eaten anything, thinking Sam and Dean were going to be back before evening, that they were just late, that they didn’t forget your birthday. 

Stupid of you to think that. 

You check the time on your phone. 3 AM. 

“Cas?” You say, closing your eyes and feeling kind of stupid for talking to yourself like that. “Are you free? It’s kind of my birthday, and nobody is around.” You open one eye, expecting to hear Cas’ wings flutter any moment. But you don’t. The bee documentary keeps going in the background.

So, just to recap: your brothers seem to have forgotten about you, Cas isn’t answering your prayers and the most compelling thing on TV is a documentary on bees.

That’s the premise for a very trashy, filled-with-drama teenage movie. 

You lean against the headboard of the motel bed and close your eyes. At this point, you might as well sleep.

“I told you we would never be back here in time!” Sam’s voice woke you up. “Fort Wayne isn’t exactly a short way from here.” You remain in bed, refusing to move. You don’t feel at all rested, just a slight pain in your neck from sleeping against the headboard. “You know how y/n is about her birthday!” Whispers Sam. “She surely thinks we’ve forgotten.”

You hear the sound of the door closing lightly and plastic bags being placed on the table. “We haven’t!” Complains Dean. “It was just… an organizational delay.” 

Sam sighs. “I’m not saying it wasn’t worth it, just… maybe next year we can take a case closer to Fort Wayne if you really want to go get that cake for her birthday.” 

You open one eye. “Can you guys shut the fuck up?” You mutter, mouth still dry and brain still clouded by sleep. You’re hearing their words, but you’re not really registering anything they're saying. “I’m trying to sleep.” You feel a hand on your shoulder and open both your eyes. 

“Happy birthday y/n!” Sam smiles widely. All of a sudden, you feel awake. You drag your hand over your eyes, surprised. “We brought you something.” That’s when you finally see the cake. It’s that cake. The cake from Fort Wayne you love so much. You snap into a sitting position Dean grins. 

“Always that look of surprise.” He says. “What? You thought we forgot about your birthday?”

You feel your cheeks fill with embarrassment. “Kind of.” You whisper. “You were gone all day.” 

“We took the day off to get you your favorite cake.” Dean smiles, satisfied. “I can’t believe you thought we forgot about your birthday!” He repeated. You smile so hard you almost hurt yourself and stand up from the bed. “Sam also brought you something.” 

You turn towards Sam, excited. He hands you a box a little bigger than your hand, wrapped in christmas-themes wrapping paper. “Sorry about the wrapping.” Says Sam, embarrassed. “They- they were out of birthday wrap and I had to improvise.” You smile at him and gently open the gift. You quickly realize it’s several DVDs of your favorite tv show. You force yourself not to start jumping in excitement. “Sam, this… this is amazing!” You look up at your brother and hug him. “Thanks.” You feel Sam’s arms around you as the comfort and familiarity of being close to your brother goes through you, flushing all anxieties and worries out of you. 

“Of course, kid. Anything.” Says Sam. How could you ever think they had forgotten about your birthday?!

“Alright, my turn now.” Says Dean, opening his bag. “I got two things for you.” He announces. You let go of Sam to turn towards him. “First of all, I made you your own copy of Baby’s keys.” He throws a keychain at you. You stare at it, completely overwhelmed by the fact Dean is giving you free access to his precious car. “And then, since you’re now technically an adult, I purchased this for you.” He hands you a small envelope. You open it and almost choke. 

Gift card valid for the purchase of 1 (one) DVD in our adult section

“I didn’t know what you liked, so…” Dean trails off. You look at the three objects you have in your hands and smile. A stack of DVDs, the keys to your brother’s car and a porn gift card. 

Well, maybe the gift card isn’t as emotionally valuable as the other two things, but it’s still… a gift? A well thought one for that matter. It’s not like he gave you his used magazines. You also hug Dean, who seems not to be expecting it, taking a couple steps back. “Thanks.” 

“Kid, I will never forget your birthday.” He says before kissing your hair. “Happy birthday, y/n.”

A/N: If you enjoy this or any sisfic content, I am writing a looong sisfic! :D Feel free to check it out here

[inlovewhithafairytale]

POV: Dating Dean Winchester....

[lady-bizarre]

DUDE

[annaruby]

hm. thinking.

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Y/N: Can I have more some candy, De?

Dean: What did Sam say?

Y/N: He said no

Dean: Then why would I say yes?

Y/N: Cause he’s not the boss of you

Dean: *internally* It’s a trap, it’s a trap, it’s a-

[samsblades]

✶ . ၄၃ . easy, maybe — sam and dean w.

cw : gn!winchester!reader, hurt/comfort, reader’s the middle sibling, peacekeeper/selfless(?) reader, blood, injury & pain, stitches, nicknames (bud), poorly edited, no y/n, 3K words. requested !

summary : you try to hide a bad injury after a hunt. sam and dean patch you up, and spend the night worrying until you wake.

it’s not as hard being easy as some people might think. maybe that’s because it’s all you know how to be. the easy one, the quiet one, the peacekeeper, the blend into the background and don’t worry about me one. and it’s not that you’re weak-willed or unopinionated; there are times when you put your foot down, times when you argue, times when you’re petty or annoying or grumpy because you’re legitimately upset or possibly just a little too hungry.

one must note that easy does not mean perfect. it just means that you let sam ride shotgun despite being two years older. it means you take the couch most nights, you’re often impressively polite, and you patch up your own injuries in the bathroom before helping your brothers out. it means you let annoying little things slide, you pick up food when the other two are too tired to drive, you take care of the most tedious or boring tasks, and you tend not to get into any trouble with law enforcement or regular citizens. life is just easier for you all when sam and dean don’t have to worry about you too much.

naturally, you’ve developed quite a pain tolerance over the years of hunting and killing and nearly being killed; all three of you have. but you have become concerningly and particularly excellent at hiding wounds. it’s mostly about the breathing, you’ve decided. if you can hide the blood, move without any apparent stiffness, and keep your breathing even and normal, then sam and dean tend not to notice. they’ve got enough to worry about, you think.

but, unfortunately, there's certain things you can't quite hide, no matter how good of a little actor you can be. there's just far too much blood, more than you think you've ever bled from any one wound. it's not arterial, that much you know; you're familiar enough with basic anatomy to understand that a knife to your lower left side shouldn't be piercing any main veins or arteries. but it is soaking through your jacket and you're getting lightheaded. and you're almost to the impala, you remind yourself. you can make it that far, you're sure. if you just keep breathing, watching dean's trudging form as the distance between the two of you grows while your sluggish footsteps slow... if you just keep breathing, you're sure you can make it.

the leaves under your feet hush your footsteps, soft and soaked from this morning’s rain. dean doesn't question the fact that he can't hear you right behind him; you're quiet nearly all the time. the growing fog in your head makes you stumble. you slip, deprived of the bearings or stability you'd need to right yourself. the softened soil welcomes the crumple of your body, but your cheek scrapes on a ragged twig embedded in the ground. the dampness of the earth swallows any loudness to your fall, the little strangled noise that leaves your lips in surprise and hot white pain. the twig that draws a line of blood across your cheek doesn't even snap.

but you can't fall in complete silence; there's a rustle and a dull thud and dean's ears are attuned to listen for you and sam. he hears your grunt of pain, regardless of how quiet the sound is. he's immediately on high alert, spinning around and holding his gun at the ready. for split second, he thinks you've disappeared completely. he didn't know you'd been falling behind, twilight is ending, and your brown jacket melts into the color of the ground. but he's got keen eyes and spots you quickly.

"shit," he curses under his breath, all but sprinting back to you, long legs clearing logs and rocks without any fuss. before he's dropped to his knees by your side, he's already asking, "hey, hey, hey, talk to me, bud. what happened?"

you've managed to twist over onto your back by the time he gets there, though not without much effort. there's dirt clinging to the side of your face and wet leaves stuck to your clothes. it's become too dark for dean to see the spread of blood on your jacket.

"just a... just a cut," you breathe out. your voice doesn't sound quite right and it sets off blaring alarms in dean's head.

"where?" he demands, not harshly. his flashlight clicks on and you squint at the sudden brightness. he doesn't need you to answer. his free hand doesn't hesitate to move your bloodied jacket out of the way, and he sucks in a sharp breath before he even sees the full extent of the wound. his fingers gather up your soaked through shirt and gently peel the fabric away from your skin. "jesus, what the hell? when did this happen? just a cut?" he asks, bewildered and beyond concerned.

"b-before," you answer unhelpfully. "it's fine. help me up." you don't feel fine at all. your head pounds and your limbs are heavy and your voice is tight with pain.

dean scoffs, pulling off his jacket with an almost panicked urgency. "you were stabbed, are you crazy?" he accuses, sounding much more worried than actually angry. he messily folds up his jacket, not hesitating to push it against your wound, not so gentle in an effort to slow the bleeding. you grunt and he frowns deeper.

"more like a… a slash… less- less stabby. 's not that bad," you mumble, completely unconvincing.

dean's jaw clenches like he disagreed. "sammy'll fix you up," is all he says. "c'mon, let's get you up. you'll be just fine." dean knows that you prefer patching yourself up. he knows that you don't like letting them see you injured. but this is bad, he thinks, and his blood boils and his heart lurches at the thought that you tried to hide it.

sam, stuck in the motel with his healing broken arm, doesn’t expect much but a “we’re on the way back” sort of phone call from dean when he answers the ringing tone. dean himself is barely paying any attention to the phone. he should be paying attention to the road, but his eyes flick over to you often, and linger for too long. the first thing that sam hears over the phone is the muffled honk of a car horn.

then comes a quiet, “shit. i’m sorry, bud. you’re alright,” from dean. he doesn’t hear the little sound of pain you made when dean had to swerve the car.

“dean?” sam says, voice plainly worried. dean sounds off. “what’s going on?”

“sammy,” dean breathes, uncharacteristically afraid, “they’re bleeding bad. need you to be ready to stitch ‘em up when we get there. five minutes.”

“where? how bad?” sam asks in a rush, already standing and searching for a medical kit. there’s one on the coffee table.

“lower left side,” dean answers, voice a bit more sure when he can actually give a solid, factual answer. then it falters. “just– bad. real bad. they’re barely awake.”

“dammit,” sam mutters. he wants to ask what happened, but dean sounds like he’s driving recklessly through the panic of your injury. he doesn’t want to add anything else for him to think about. “you sure you shouldn’t be headed to the hospital?”

dean shakes his head, then glances at you and your heavy lidded eyes. “nearest one’s too far. you’re closer.”

“okay. alright. just– just drive safe and keep them talking,” sam says at the risk of angering dean in his precarious mental state. asking him to drive safe is a bit silly, and he already knows to keep you talking. 

but dean doesn’t retort, he just spares you another glance. “keep those eyes open for me,” he urges, leaving it up to sam to hang up the phone. he only does so in order to focus on gathering the right supplies for you. and when the impala pulls up into the parking space right in front of tonight’s motel room, sam’s waiting outside by the pale yellow door with a janky metal ‘17’ on the front. he’s at the passenger’s side before dean’s even turned the car off.

you’re leaning against the car door, so he’s precise and careful when he opens it, reaching in with one hand first and cupping the side of your neck to keep you steady while he slips in closer to you. 

“hey,” he says gently, hiding his fear. he’s not sure he can deal with all this shit without you. you’ve always been such a steadying presence. dean’s jacket that you keep clutched to your wound with shaky hands is all bloodied, and the only thing sam knows is that dean said it’s real bad.

dean’s there, opening the door the rest of the way so that sam can bend down and pull you into his arms. first goes your head to his chest, then his arms wrapping around your shoulders and tucking under your knees.

“there we go,” sam murmurs, wincing softly when the movement pulls a groan of pain from your lips. “can you talk to me?” he’s swift and gentle in his movements, getting you through the door and to the bed with the least amount of discomfort for you that he can.

“it’s okay, sammy,” you mumble in response to his request. of course that’s what you’d say. dean frowns, barely able to hear your words despite how close behind sam he hovers.

“yeah,” sam agrees, laying you out on the bed, pulling the ruined jacket away from your wound and gently moving your own clothing out of the way. it’s not a pretty sight, but the bleeding’s slowed enough for him to see that maybe it’s not as bad as they thought. stitches should do the trick, you’re just all messed up from the blood loss. “it is okay,” he confirms, “you’ll be okay.” 

as he soaks a clean rag with alcohol, sam wonders when the last time he’s stitched you up was. it must’ve been a while ago. he even can’t easily think of the last time he helped you deal with any injury. right now, it’s his job to stay calm and patch you up, but the way you said it’s okay, sammy, made him want to act a bit like the baby of the family. he wants to hug you. it doesn’t make him feel small, though, just extra responsible for making sure you’ll be alright. you’re always taking care of him and dean, even if it’s just in the smaller ways, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t fix this for you.

dean’s hands are far more tender than usual as he holds yours. sam cleans your wound, and you don’t react much. it worries them both, but sam assures that it’s not as bad as it seemed before.

the cast over sam’s wrist and forearm doesn’t make giving you stitches all that easy, but he manages. his big hands are somehow always much nimbler than dean’s, the stitches he produces less crude. but no matter how used to the feeling of a few stitches you are, once he gets to the sixth, you’re not sure you can stay awake any longer. you hate the feeling of the needle and thread going through your skin.

you give dean’s hand a weak squeeze. “’m gonna pass out,” you slur in warning. his eyes widen in worry. sam tries to stay focused, but his frown deepens. he’d much rather you didn’t, but he thinks you’ll be alright.

“hey, hey, hey, no. stay with us,” dean urges, brushing his fingers over your forehead. “you’re fine now, just stay awake, bud. look at me.” you meet his gaze with drooping eyelids and a weak frown. you feel bad for making him worry like this. 

“’m sorry,” you mumble, “so tired.” you close your eyes against his wishes, and your hand goes limp in his. 

“dammit,” sam whispers, noticing the way your muscles all go slack. dean’s not so quiet when he curses, standing up angrily. as sam finishes the stitches, dean paces, hands in fists.

“it’s my damn fault, sammy,” he growls. if sam looked up, the tears in dean’s otherwise angry eyes would betray his blatant concern for you. “i wasn’t paying attention.” sam worries now that dean’ll start throwing things. he doesn’t deal well with his little siblings getting hurt.

“they’re okay. seriously,” sam insists. really though, he’s worried out of his mind. freaking out won’t help him give you effective stitches, so he just focuses on the silent promise he’s made to take care of you. “they’ll heal. the stitches will be enough,” he says, instead of asking what happened to avoid upsetting dean further. dean returns to your side just as sam finishes the last stitch. he dresses the wound with a bit of help from dean, but mostly, the oldest just combs through loose strands of your hair, picking out dried leaves and twigs. dean cleans the little cut on your face too, wiping away the dirt from when you fell.

he holds you gently upright as sam trades your bloodstained jacket and top for a simple long sleeve crewneck shirt to keep you comfortable and warm as you rest. he monitors your pulse and constantly checks your breathing, and his nervous behavior doesn’t go unnoticed by dean. but your heartbeat remains steady and the soft sound of your breathing is the only thing that can be heard at times. it’s comforting to them both, taking turns by your side, though they’re most certainly overly concerned now that your body is set to start mending.

you sleep a long while, long enough that dean starts pacing again when he tires of sitting on the edge of the other bed with his head in his hands. sam sits in a chair by your side. he dozes lightly for a bit, until the sun rises and brightens the room through half opened curtains. dean’s asleep on the couch when sam comes back around, despite the completely free bed. when he wakes, dean makes coffee for him and sam, brooding the whole while. he still looks like he’s holding back the urge to throw a rickety motel chair into the wall, but he’s a bit more blatantly anxious than angry by now. he holds your hand for a little while before you wake up.

you start to stir at 9:37 in the morning, which means you’ve been sleeping for almost ten hours. sam had checked the time when you passed out, in the midst of all his worry as he stitched you up. but no one catches the time. you, of course, are not checking the time. you’re barely awake. dean doesn’t think to check the time, he’s much more concerned about the light rustle of the bed sheets that he hears coming from your direction. and sam is drying his hands in the bathroom. he probably wouldn’t care to check the time either even if he were standing right by the clock. he hears dean say your name through the thin bathroom door, quiet and nervous. the hand towel slips off the rack in his rush to get to you.

dean’s sitting by your side, both of his hands wrapping around yours. “hey,” he murmurs, soft and glad to see your eyelids fluttering. you see the water stained ceiling of the motel room and feel the end of the bed dipping by your feet, then a big, soft hand on your shin. that’s sam. dean’s the one holding your hand.

you try to say hey back, but it comes out as a hoarse groan. your throat is very dry. so you just squeeze dean’s hand back as best as you can. one of his hands leaves yours to rest on your tired head. you look over and offer him a little smile. he feels a rush of affection as you meet his gaze like that, and a little bit of guilt for always letting you be the best of them. the quietest and the easiest. he doesn’t know what to do with those feelings, so he asks a sweet, almost teary looking sam to go grab you some water. he does so without a qualm, tries to help you take a sip, and relents with a subtle pout when you refuse the help. you’re insistent about holding that cup for yourself.

“let me help you,” he murmurs, voice all soft. he sounds extra young right now, as his hands try to hold the cup and your head up for you. you grab the cup, shaking your head despite being plagued by a pounding ache at your temples.

“mm-mm,” you hum a no, as if it bothers you that he’s trying to use his hand in a cast to help. you’re truly just that stubborn that it makes you strong enough to hold the cup with your own shaky hands. sam’s hand hovers nearby anyway. when you’ve taken a good drink, and the water starts to slosh a bit because you’re having a hard time holding it steady, dean takes it from you and sets it on the bedside table. 

“you gave us a good little scare there,” he murmurs, voice gentler than usual. he doesn’t even pretend to sound annoyed. sam thinks his demeanor is a bit funny now, considering how much of a mess dean was last night and before you woke. but he easily lets it slide for right now. without a doubt, you’re his main concern.

“sorry,” you mumble, still sort of smiling.

“don’t,” sam scolds softly. “don’t be sorry.” it seems to him like you’re always willing to take the fall, fix the problem, ease the tension. right now, he’d rather you just let him and dean take care of everything for you. you look like you want to protest, keep apologizing for making them worry, but he grabs your free hand as a means to stop you. dean gives your hand a little squeeze to punctuate the same sentiment. 

you have nothing to be sorry for. and they are very grateful for you. losing you scares them more than anything, and for a moment, they will both be a bit vulnerable and ask for you to do the same by holding your hands tight for just a little while.

“okay,” you murmur. you won’t be sorry. i love you, too, you’re saying.

[imbadatwrighting]

Dean: Do it, now. That’s an order.

Reader: Yeah, well, you don’t wanna start a battle of the wills with me because you will emerge from that battle a broken man. Not to brag, but I was name-checked in a demon’s suicide note.

Sam: Oh, my god.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

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

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Abuse? Asthma Attack kinda?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Back up.” He said, firmly.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N/N.” You heard Dean say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[winniewritesstories]

Balls | Meg Winchester Drabble ii

Summary - Meg learns a new word.

Pairings/characters - Meg Winchester (OC), Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester

John Winchester x daughter, Winchesters x little sister, Dean Winchester x little sister, Sam Winchester x little sister

Warnings - 0 (John Winchester)

Language - English (British)

Word Count - 360

Notes - It physically pained me to write potato chips btw (they're crisps)

Credits - @firefly-graphics for the Impala divider <3

The Winchester's were situated in a motel room, much like all the other motel rooms, in all the other backwater towns they stayed in across America. Sam had his head buried in some homework, John and Dean pouring over newspapers looking for any freak accidents or weird deaths.

Two-year-old Meg was waddling about the room in just a diaper, bag of potato chips in hand. She was speaking more and more these days, learning new words every day, and she liked to babble to herself, little made-up conversations or singing silly little songs.

Having circled the musty couch where Sam was sat for a third time, she decided to venture toward the kitchenette instead, the ratty old carpet giving way to cracked linoleum. The divide between carpet and lino was uneven, the old flooring lifting up and warping from years of use and misuse.

Meg tripped, arms windmilling slightly, enough to keep her balance, but lost her bag of chips in the process.

"Oh, balls!" she exclaimed, letting out a small huff and crouching down on her chubby legs to start piling the chips back into the bag.

All three Winchester men looked up, staring dumbfounded at the toddler.

"What did you just say?" John asked, brows furrowed. Meg straightened up.

"Balls!" she said again, pointing to the spilt potato chips. Dean choked, stifling a laugh, turning his face so Meg couldn't see his smile. Sam, similarly, brought his book in front of his face, shoulders shaking as he laughed quietly. John's mouth twitched as he fought to keep a straight face.

"Meg..." he began, battling his facial muscles. "You don't say that word. Understand?"

Meg did not understand, frowning indignantly at her father. "Unca Bobby says it." she chirped matter-of-factly. John sighed, running a weary hand across his face. Dean let out a soft snort.

"That's not... it doesn't mean...." he sighed again, standing from his seat. He scooped her off the floor, settling her on his hip, intent on giving her a stern talking to, but one look at her wide, innocent eyes had him crumbling. "Remind me never to leave you alone with Bobby Singer again, okay?" 

⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The Safest Place

Sam and Dean & little sister!reader, John Winchester & daughter!reader

Synopsis: John has to tell you (4) about monsters, and you don’t take it well

Warnings: none, it’s short and sweet

“And that’s what me and Sammy and Dean do. And that’s why we move around all the time, and why you can’t go to work with me, and…” John swallowed. “Kiddo that’s why you don’t have a mom. Demons took her.”

Dean couldn’t watch. He didn’t even want to listen. He’d wanted to keep you from the truth for so much longer, but you were so much more nosy than Sam had been. You went through John’s journal and asked about all the monster pictures you saw in it, you asked John countless questions about the guns and the newspaper clippings and…and everything. But it was more than that—you were also clingy. Clingy to the point where you’d sneak out and try to follow either John or your brothers when they went out to hunt monsters. After a close call with a vampire where you snuck into the Impala then almost got yourself killed, John decided that enough was enough. You wouldn’t last long in this life unless you had a healthy fear of the supernatural. So that’s what John had to give you.

“What if demons take you?” Your quiet whimper finally had Dean looking up. You were shaking, blinking up at your dad as if waiting for him to say that it was all a joke and monsters weren’t real.

“The demons aren’t gonna take me,” John promised. “That’s why we hunt. So they can’t take anybody else.”

You didn’t respond, so John reached down and picked you up, laying you down on his bed and tucking you in.

“Get some sleep, kiddo.”

…

John fell asleep quickly, but Dean could hear you tossing and turning even as he struggled to settle down himself. He was always the last to fall asleep, and having to share a bed with Sam since there was no pullout couch wasn’t helping.

Because of his insomnia, Dean was the first to hear your feet padding on the motel carpet as you slipped off John’s bed and tiptoed your way over to Dean’s.

“De?” Dean could tell you were crying from just the one syllable. “De, I need help.”

Dean rolled over to see you standing at the edge of his bed, your arms stretched out for him. Dean pulled you up onto the bed without comment, and once his arms were around you you refused to let him go.

“I don’t want the demons to get me, De,” you sniffled.

“Hey—“ Dean tightened his arms around you. “—I’m not gonna let any demons get you, ok?”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Sam whispered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Demons are scary, Sammy,” you whimpered.

“Oh honey…” Sam disentangled you from Dean’s arms and cradled you in his lap.

“How do I fight demons?” You rubbed at your eyes.

“Hey, you don’t have to worry about that,” Dean said. “I don’t ever want you thinking about it. Me and Sammy and Dad are gonna get those demons, ok? Nobody’s ever gonna hurt you.”

“Yeah, and you wanna know what the safest place is?” Sam asked. You nodded firmly. “It’s right about…” Sam laid back down, and Dean followed his lead. “Here.” Sam positioned you in between himself and Dean, tucking you under the covers and keeping one arm over you. You latched onto his arm, your tiny hands wrapping around his fingers.

“Nobody can hurt you here,” Dean promised. “Me and Sammy and Dad won’t let them.”

You reached your hand out for Dean, and he responded by putting his arm over Sam’s, so you had both of your brother’s arms protecting you.

You were asleep in minutes.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810

[redbird-tf]

Wild dog

dean x little sister

synopsis; A vampire hunt goes horribly wrong, leaving you injured in more ways the one, by the person you'd least expect.

inspired by

Word count; 2.6k (officially my longest story, please dont let it flop)

Warning: hurt/comfort, injury, john, violence, language

No no no, this couldnt be happening. You all knew taking on a vampire nest was a dangerous mission, but this mistake should have never happened. Now, here you lay on the cold, hay-covered floor of an old barn. Pain pulses through your body, your mind teetering on the edge of consciousness, and Dean looming over you.

The barn was crawling with those nasty blood-sucking monsters—20, maybe more. You three had been tracking them for weeks and prepared well. Hiding in the bushes, you waited until the nest was deep in slumber before making your move. You had to move quietly. Killing as many in their sleep as possible until one awoke. Its shrill scream shattered the silence, jolting the rest of the nest awake. "Split!" Dean's voice rang out, and in an instant, you all scattered.

Dean skidded to a stop as he faced a dead end. His grip tightened around the machete, turning to face the vamps closing in. “come get it you sick son of a bitch” he growled. He swung in every direction, blood soaking his clothes. When Dean got like this he turned into a killing machine. No thoughts just, swing-hit-kill, swing-hit-kill. A vamp hurled down at him from the ceiling, yet without flinching Dean grabbed it by the throat slamming it against the wall behind him and slicing its head clean off. Only when the head rolled past his feet did he take a breath and allow his shoulder to slump.

The sound of fast footsteps made him whirl around, swinging his machete wildly, his fist connecting with the creature's face, sending it crashing to the ground. “Dean stop!” Sams horrified voice rang pulling Dean from his soilder like state. Deans eyes widened in shock and the machete slipped from his hand. “Oh my god” his voice broke. It was you. You who was running up on him. You who’s side he sliced into. It was you who lay in front of him now.

Dean collapsed to his knees, and his hands came up to cradle your face “Sweetheart, sweetheart can you hear me” he begged with desperation. You let out a painful groan, and Dean let out a heavy sigh of relief. Sam lifted your shirt, inspecting the cut that was pouring blood. His concerned gaze met Dean, “What?” Dean demanded, panic rising in his chest. “We can’t stitch this dean, we need to take her to the hospital now” Sam replied with quick urgency. He pushed Dean aside, scooping you into his arms. You let out another agonizing moan. “Sorry bug” Sam whispered. “And say what?” Dean frantically snapped while darting toward the car. “I don't know Dean, let's worry about that when our sisters insides aren’t visible!” Sam shouted in frustration.

————-

When they reached the hospital, Dean shouted for help, and within seconds doctors surrounded them, lifting your limp body from Sam's arms and onto a bed. Deans eyes never left you as you were wheeled away, only breaking when pushed past white doors. It was then the adrenaline wore off and guilt flooded his body. He stood frozen, Sam’s voice was mumbled trying to convince the nurse it had been a bear or something.

“Sir, sir, SIR” Dean's trance was broken by the nurse's voice. “Does your hand feel alright?” She asked kindly. Dean furrowed his brows in confusion, then looked down at his fist. His knuckles were bruised and the image of his fist connecting with your face made his lip quiver.

Dean and Sam sat in the silence of the waiting room. Dean's head hung low, his thumb rubbing over his bandaged hand. Sams head jerked up at the sound of heavy footsteps, “what the hell” he muttered. Deans eyes widened at the sight of John. They both quickly stood from their seat “Dad what are you-“Sam was cut off. “What the hell happened?” John asked sternly, gazing between the brothers. There was a tense pause before Dean spoke up “It was me… she ran up from behind me. i should have been more careful…” Dean spoke quietly, half to keep the nurses from hearing and half because he couldn’t raise his voice without the risk of breaking down. John sighed heavily “How many goddamn times have i told her not to do that-“John started “It's not her fault” Dean quickly rebutted. John opened his mouth but fell silent at the sight of a nurse approaching. “How is she?” John asked, his body tensed, bracing for the worst. “Shell be alright” the boys shoulders dropped. “Shell have to take it easy for a few months to prevent tearing stitches….” The nurse paused, hesitating to continue “Her injury was very severe, it's a miracle she's still alive” The room fell silent again. “Can we see her?” Sam asked in an urgent tone.

The three of them hurried to your room. Sam and John rushed to your bedside, except for Dean who stood frozen in the doorway, watching you slowly gain consciousness.” what happened?” You asked groggily. Sam spoke softly to you but the Anastasia still weighed heavy, making it hard to understand his words. A shiver ran through your body and your head cocked to the side catching a glimpse of Dean. Dean jumped out of sight, pressing his back against the wall. He swallowed sharply, his heart hammering in his chest. “De…” he heard you call. “Dean” again, and again. A moment later John stepped out, “she's cold. She wants a jacket” he stated firmly. Without a word, Dean shrugged off his jacket and pushed it into John's hand. “Go home. We’ll talk later” he ordered. “Yes sir,” Dean said lowly, his hand dragged down his face, then he turned his heel.

—————-

“What do you remember?” Sam asked, sitting at the edge of your bed. You thought for a moment, your mind capturing bits and pieces. A look of shock came over your face. “I was running to Dean and then…” Your breath hitched and your hand clutched your side “he didn't mean to” you whispered with turned-up brows. Sams brows furrowed in contrast “Of course he didn’t” he reassured you, placing his hand over yours. “Here you go kid” John stepped forward, passing Dean's jacket to you. “Where's Dean?” You asked. “Let's get going before the cops get here” John continued ignoring your question. “He didn't mean to Dad! It's my fault” you blurted out. Johns's gaze sharpened “you were reckless. and he acted like a goddamn wild dog. This is on both of you, i hope you've learned something. Now come on” he snapped coldly, turning his back.

——

The drive back to the motel in John's truck was silent with unbearable tension. When John pulled into the lot you noticed Dean's impala was nowhere in sight. “I'll check into another room. You two go to bed,” John said gruffly, pointing between you and Sam before walking off. Sam carried the bags into the room as you limped in behind him. “Where Dean?” You asked, turning to Sam with a confused look. “He’s probably just grabbing a drink” he explained, while unpacking his bag. “Can we call him, just to make sure” you nervously fidgeted with your fingers, “let's just give him some space right now,” Sam spoke quietly, giving you sympathetic eyes.

You had been tossing and turning for hours. Unable to sleep thanks to the pain meds wearing off. You stared at the ceiling until the glow of headlights flickered into the room. You listened closely to the squeak of brakes, followed by the jingles of keys. You quickly closed your eyes pretending to sleep. Footsteps crept their way into the room, then faded back out. You peeked around the room, seeing nothing changed. Slowly you sat up, cradling your side as you pushed yourself from the bed. Grabbing Dean's jacket from the nightstand, you tiptoed to the door making sure not to wake Sammy while you slipped out.

The wind bit at your cheeks. You quickly draped the jacket over your shoulders, pulling it tight. The Impala was parked in front of you, but no still dean in sight. Your eyes scanned the lot. It wasn't until you squinted your eyes that you spotted a figure in the distance, sitting on a bench, beneath a large oak tree. After a few minutes of limping, and grunting, you finally reached the bench. Dean swung around at the sound. “I got your jacket…” you said awkwardly. “Keep it,” he muttered after giving you a once over and taking a sip of his drink. You slowly took a seat next to him. The rustle of the tree blowing in the wind surrounding you two. “I shouldn’t have run up on you-“ you tried to reason “It's not your fault” Dean cut you off, his voice firm, eyes locked on the ground. “You've told me over and over again not to “ “so i should have known. I shouldn’t have looked before…” his voice strained.

Another silence settled. “I don't blame you Dean” you stated softly. “Well, i do.” He replied sharply, taking another swing of his drink. You watched him for a moment before shifting closer, resting your head on his shoulder. You could feel him relax beneath your touch. “You know when we were younger, I'd come home from school and Dad would be gone, but you'd be there.” You kept your voice steady. “Then Sam left, and i was sure you would to…but you never did. You've always been there for me Dean” you spoke softly. You saw his grip tighten around the bottle. “You know what hurt most of all” your voice barely a whisper. “when i called for you from the bed…and you didn't come” Your voice wavered before you could stop it and you bit down on your lip. Deans body stiffened. For the first time that night, he looked you in the eyes. His green eyes were a storm of emotions. “I'm sorry, kid” his voice painfully sincere. He lifted his hand to cradle the side of your face, his thumb smoothing over the bruise beneath your eye. “Dean i know you won't forgive yourself, but can you make me a promise” Your voice shook terribly, trying to keep your tears at bay. Dean nodded immediately. “promise you'll always come when i call you” you pleaded. Dean's face cringed realizing the pain he caused you, some worse than the physical. “I promise, baby” His voice was firm, unwavering. A gust of wind cut through the air causing you both to shiver violently. “We should go in now” Dean suggested to which you quickly nodded, earning a soft chuckle from him.

As You both stood up, a sharp pain radiated down your side, stopping you in your tracks. Dean turned to you in an instant, hearing you wince. “what's wrong?” He asked concerned. “My side” you breathed out, clutching at your ribs while bent over. Dean crouched down in front of you “How about i give you a ride” Dean recommended. You couldn’t help but smile as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, allowing him to slowly lift you off the ground. His warmth engulfed you. Your eyes grew heavy, sleep pulling you in as you rested against him. until his voice pulled you back. “You know I'll always protect you too. Even if that means from me sometimes” he said quietly, but his voice laced with a sense of seriousness. You pressed your face into his shoulder, letting yourself relax again before softly murmuring.

“Dean Winchester, my own wild dog”

[thursdaythen]

Day 6: New & Niche

What if we were two unknowable, female-presenting entities in the vast void haha.... unless?