#spn sister

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

imagine: You’re going through all the emotions of being on your period with your brothers Sam and Dean, but realize you need a little help from Castiel

You were curled up in the weirdest position, trying to find some relief from the waves of pain coursing through your body. The cramps had hit you like a freight train, and no matter how much you tried to shift, nothing made it go away. The moment you woke up, you could tell it was going to be a long day.

As you lay there, gritting your teeth and doing your best not to cry out, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps. Dean’s voice broke through the haze of pain. “You good?” he asked in slight confusion, but for the most part amused. His tone was playful, like he was trying to make light of the position he found you in.

You let out a low groan before snapping at him. “Dean, I swear to God, if you don’t wipe that smirk off your face, I’ll slap it off of you,” you hissed through clenched teeth, practically vibrating from the pain.

Dean stopped in his tracks, his mouth still curled into that damn grin for a second longer. But when he noticed the agony on your face, the smirk dropped, and his expression turned serious. “Damn, what’s up with you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing a hand to your abdomen, trying to ride out the cramps. “I feel like I’m gonna fucking die,” you muttered bitterly, voice thick with frustration and pain.

Dean hesitated for a moment, but then, you felt his hand gently press against your back. His voice was softer. “What’s going on, kiddo?” he asked.

“Cramps,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips. You hated admitting weakness, but there was nothing you could do to hide it.

Dean didn't hesitate. He sat down beside you, gently shifting the pillow from beneath your head and making room for himself to lie next to you. He stayed quiet for a few seconds before speaking again.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and comforting, “I’m sorry you’re hurting, kid. I know I can’t exactly fix this for you, but I can at least stay with you while you get through it. If you need anything, I’m here.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body still aching, but his presence was like a balm to your frayed nerves. His voice, calm and steady, made the storm of pain inside your body seem a little less overwhelming.

“Thanks, Dean,” you murmured, feeling a surprising comfort from his words.

“If you need anything, I’ll be your errand boy. You just say the word.”

Sam wandered into the room at that point, catching the tail end of your exchange. He looked from you to Dean, immediately sensing something was off. “What’s going on?” Sam asked at the same time Dean mouthed period cramps to him behind your back. Dean’s eyes widened immediately, knowing that would set you off.

Before Dean could answer, you snapped, voice sharper now. “I swear, I’m gonna lose it if I have to keep dealing with this.”

Sam frowned, his eyes softening with concern. “You’re in pain, I get it. But take it easy, okay?”

You shook your head, barely holding it together now. “Easy? Easy? This? I can barely even move without feeling like I’m being stabbed repeatedly!” Your frustration bubbled over, and you didn’t even care that you were sounding irrational. The pain made you irrational.

And then, as if all the emotions that had been building up for days exploded, the tears came. They were hot, and they burned as they ran down your cheeks. The pain was too much, and you were just so tired of it.

Dean looked at you, his eyes softening, clearly unsure how to handle you in this state. His usual playful charm had disappeared, and now, he just seemed... concerned. “Hey, hey, come on, don’t cry. We’ll figure this out.”

But all you could think about was the fact that this cycle—this suffering—was something you couldn’t escape. The tears kept coming, and before you even knew it, you found yourself speaking without thinking.

“When we find God, remind me to ask him why the hell he thought it was a good idea to make women suffer like this.” You sniffled between your words, wiping at your eyes. “And if I ever find Eve, I swear, it’s on sight. I don’t care.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance before Dean raised an eyebrow. He chuckled softly, though it was a little strained. “You know, kid, I’ve got your back on that. Eve? Totally on sight.”

Sam, though, looked a bit more concerned.

“Y/N,” he started and you could already tell he was going to get all touchy feely and you weren’t exactly in the mood for it. You were actually in the mood to fight someone and thinking about Eve made you seethe.

“Okay, that’s it. I can’t do this anymore,” you cut Sam off muttering through gritted teeth. “I’m calling Cas.”

Both of your brothers’ eyes went wide, clearly startled by your sudden outburst. “Wait, wait—Cas? What are you doing?” Sam asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Dean, ever the protective older brother, had a look of horror. “Uh, you sure that’s a good idea? Cas is... I mean, I get it, but he’s not exactly... helpful when it comes to, you know, cramps and whatever else you’re dealing with. He’s gonna make everything way more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Dean, you have no idea,” you said, sitting up with effort. “You don’t get it. Cas knows stuff. He can probably tell me why the hell we’re cursed with this biological nonsense.”

You were already pulling your phone out of your pocket and texting Castiel without hesitation. Cas, get your grace in here now. I need answers.

Within minutes, the familiar sound of his arrival in the bunker echoed through the hall, and the next thing you knew, he was standing in front of you, his expression confused as ever.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, a little louder than necessary. “Cas! You’re just the angel I need.”

Sam’s face dropped in disbelief. “What are you doing?” he asked again, his voice almost pleading.

Dean sighed and rubbed his temples, but you could tell he was more than amused. “You’re killing me kid.”

You weren’t paying attention to them anymore, already sitting up slightly and glaring at Castiel with an intensity that only a woman going through hell on Earth could possess. “Cas! Maybe you can help me with something. Why did your father want to make me suffer?”

Castiel blinked, as lost as ever. “My father? I don’t—”

You were getting impatient. “God, Cas. I’m talking about periods and the suffering that comes with being a woman. Why did he do that to me?”

Castiel’s brows furrowed, clearly trying to make sense of your words. “I... I’m not entirely sure I understand...”

Sam had his face buried in his hands at this point in utter disbelief. “You really called Cas for this?”

You ignored him, still laser-focused on the angel. “Was it because Eve bit the apple? Because if that’s it, I swear to God, I’m going straight to her. I don’t care. I’m taking it up with her myself.”

You could practically hear Dean choking on his laughter in the background.

Castiel tilted his head, as if he were pondering your words like they were some grand cosmic mystery.

“Eve? The first woman?” he asked cautiously. “Well, yes, technically. Eve’s actions with the apple did cause certain... consequences.”

Your jaw dropped. “So, you’re telling me that because of Eve, I have to suffer through this every month?” You waved a hand at your cramping body in frustration. “Every month, Cas. You have no idea how bad this hurts.”

Castiel blinked again, processing. “Well, yes... it is an unfortunate result of the... fall from grace, so to speak. But, the suffering you feel... it is not a punishment. It is... well, a part of being human.”

You narrowed your eyes, not having the patience for his usual philosophical nonsense. “No, Cas. I don’t want some deep answer about ‘the human condition.’ I want to know where Eve is because I need to have words with her.”

Castiel looked at you like you had asked him to solve the mysteries of the universe. “Uh...”

You leaned in a little closer, determined to get some kind of answer. “Wait—were you even there when Eve was around?”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, and Castiel’s eyes flickered like he wasn’t sure how to answer. Finally, he spoke up. “Yes, I... I was there. But, I... I don’t believe I ever interacted with her much.”

You stared at him incredulously. “Okay so you didn’t even try to stop her either? So I can technically add you onto the list of people I need to have a word with?”

“Well,” he began, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I wasn’t exactly... allowed to interact with her.”

Sam was standing in the doorway by now, rubbing his eyes. “This is getting out of hand,” he muttered.

You raised an eyebrow, voice dripping with frustration. “Why do I have to suffer? Why does every woman on this planet have to go through this? I didn’t ask for this, you know?”

Castiel hesitated for a moment, the weight of your frustration clearly sinking in. “I... I will go and find answers for you,” he said, his usual confidence returning in a determined tone. “I will seek out more information on Eve, on why these consequences were set in motion.”

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden promise. “You will? Really?”

Castiel nodded solemnly. “Yes. I will leave now and return with the answers you seek.”

“Okay wait Cas! See if you can reverse it-” But before you could even finish, he disappeared with the familiar flutter of wings.

Sam turned to you with an exasperated sigh. “So... you really just called him and told him to find Eve?”

You nodded, arms crossed over your chest. “Hey, I figure if anyone knows where she’s hiding, it’s Cas. And if he’s going to keep dropping cryptic answers, maybe he can at least help fix this.”

Dean flopped back down next to you on the bed, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Just don’t be mad at me when Cas brings back some ancient scroll saying it was Eve’s fault.”

“I’ll be mad at everyone,” you said with a small laugh. “But mostly Eve.”

Dean gave you a soft smile, the lightheartedness back in his tone, though it was now tinged with a genuine concern. “Well, kid, if I had a magic wand, I’d wave it. But since I don’t, just know I’m here. If you need anything—anything—you know I got you, okay?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Thanks. I guess... I guess I’ll survive this, somehow.”

Dean grinned, sitting back down on the bed. “That’s the spirit. And hey, if you need a punching bag, Sam’s your man.”

Sam shot him a glare but then softened. “Don’t listen to him.”

You chuckled weakly, your mind desperate for a distraction from the pain. “You know what would make this day a little better?”

Dean raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“Legally Blonde,” you said with a sigh of relief, the thought of a lighthearted movie soothing your mind even if just a little.

Dean’s face lit up. “Sammy’s favorite.” He winked.

“Oh, I know. That’s why I picked it.” You said sending Dean an over exaggerated wink right back.

Sam groaned from the doorway, clearly not impressed. “Seriously, guys? Come on.”

You laughed despite yourself. “Come on, Sammy, I just know your bag was going to be full of pink sparkly pens at law school.”

Dean shot you a playful grin. “He was gonna walk into the courtroom and say, ‘Objection, Your Honor—this is unacceptable!’ and flip his hair dramatically.”

Sam glared at Dean, but it was obvious he was trying not to smile. He shook his head, muttering, “I can't even believe you two are making fun of me for wanting to be a lawyer. But fine, fine, let’s watch Legally Blonde.”

You settled back into the pillows with a satisfied sigh. “Great choice, Sammy. I knew you were cool under all that lawyer talk.”

Sam let out a reluctant laugh. “Alright, alright. But you guys better be ready for The Trial of the Century. Because Elle Woods? She’s gonna win this thing.”

And for the first time in hours, you felt a flicker of joy. It wasn’t about the cramps—it was about the three of you, trying to make light of the situation, and you realized, you’d survive this, one laugh at a time. Oh and hopefully with some answers from Cas!

[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.”

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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.”

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.”

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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....

[aturnoftheearth]

j2 divorce v1 was unmatched. the fact that it started with the news of the prequel and everyone pissed over john and mary’s “beautiful love story” only to devolve into jared padalecki having a full blown meltdown on twitter.com that very night. absolutely insane turnaround in terms of dash vibes. no one knew what to do we were checking for updates like a frantic intern at a news station during a national crisis. no one knew what was gonna happen next the tweets just kept coming. he called robbie a coward and then deleted it but not before we all screenshotted it. misha collins tweeted “love and miss you both” and everyone replied “who are you again?” and he hung his head and said “the ass leaker” before shutting up. eric kripke and jensen ackles had to tweet the next day about how they all had a good long chat and everything is good a la your parents sitting the kids down after they overheard the knockdown drag out fight they had in the other room and saying “we’re not getting a divorce sweetie, your dad and i are okay we promise” and some fans (j2 stans) tearfully nodded their heads and went to play trains while others sighed in frustration and mumbled “why can’t you just leave each other already” before skulking out of the room. misha collins filmed himself in a bathtub outside for attention.

[lady-bizarre]

DUDE

[rositaslabyrinth]

Danneel liking these two reels on Instagram LMAOOO she’s just like us.

[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

[samsblades]

SUPERNATURAL M.LIST all works are gender neutral, reblogs + feedback are greatly appreciated !! MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI WITH MY NSFW CONTENT. YOU WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED !!! all nsfw fics are clearly labeled MDNI, this applies to ageless blogs. p for platonic! f for fluff, a for angst, h/c for hurt/comfort, s for smut, su for suggestive!

SAM WINCHESTER

DRABBLES / ONESHOTS ⟢ something about being close | 9.5K, a, f ⟢ makes you wonder | 5.2K, f ↳ ⟢ part two : now you know | 6.8K, f, h/c ⟢ better than a sight for sore eyes | 1K, su, MDNI ⟢ take my breath away | 13.7K, a, f, h/c ⟢ give and take | 0.7K, f ⟢ warm brown jacket | 1.3K, f ⟢ you’d dance with me? | 1.4K, f ⟢ three seconds | 1.2K, f ⟢ literary parallels | 3.6K, a, f ⟢ this is real, it’s right | 3K, h/c ⟢ my boy only breaks his favorite toys | 10.6K, a ↳ ⟢ part two : to leave him with love | 8K, a ⟢ forget-me-nots | 5.6K, f ⟢ but daddy i love him | 11.3K, a, f ⟢ some other time |1.1K, f ⟢ just an observation | 1.3K, f ⟢ hold me, it’s enough | 1.6K, h/c ⟢ breathe, baby | 4.1K, s, f, MDNI ⟢ only got eyes for you | 2.7K, f ⟢ dead eyes | 2.4K, h/c ⟢ abstract (psychopomp)| 1.9K, h/c, a ⟢ love you again| 2K, f, h/c ⟢ motel room, 10:00 p.m. | 545, f, h/c ⟢ book shop, 12:00 p.m.| 515, f ⟢ motel shower, 12:00 a.m. |629, h/c ⟢ cabin, 3:17 a.m.| 658, h/c ⟢ campus library, 7:00 a.m.| 658, f ⟢ the impala, 4:00 p.m.| 608, f, h/c, p ⟢ drooling honey | 1.1K, s, MDNI ⟢ our girl | 1.2K, s, MDNI, w/jess ⟢ i got you | 4.1K, s, MDNI ⟢ you can take it | [tfem!sam]. 1.3K, s, MDNI ⟢ worship you | 1.5K, s, MDNI ⟢ my hands are yours | 2.8K, h/c ⟢ sweet smile | 1.9K, f ⟢ noticed | 1.1K, h/c ⟢ soft 'n sleepy | 1.3K words, s, f, MDNI ⟢ like a miracle | 1.1K, f ⟢ laundry machines | 1.7K, f ⟢ love you like that | 783, f ⟢ the object of his affections | 1K, f ⟢ in the morning | 959, f ⟢ smirking and butterflies | 783, f ⟢ blabbermouth | 845, h/c ⟢ no one else here | 908, f ⟢ ruined (not really) | 1.4K, f ⟢ green couch | 898, f ⟢ sweet potatoes |1.2K, f ⟢ hallway hardwood floors | 676 f, su ⟢ natural | 5.3K, f, s, MDNI

continued ! bc theres a character limit for a block of text :( ⟢ liked it too | 1.9K, s, MDNI ⟢ just a little bit | 1.7K, s, MDNI ⟢ lucky charm | 1.4K, f ⟢ deep satisfaction | 1.5K, s, MDNI

HEADCANONS ⟢ random boyfriend hcs | 1.6K , f ⟢ nsfw boyfriend hcs | 1.6K, s, MDNI ⟢ pirate!au | 1.1K, f, a ⟢ with adhd!reader | 0.8K, f ⟢ with talkative!reader | 0.7K, f ⟢ fake-dating!au | 1K, f ⟢ with angel!reader | 2.4K, f ⟢ tfem!sam x tmasc!reader | 1.3K, f

FAKE TEXTS ⟢ gen z younger sibling | f, humor, p ↳ ⟢ part two | f, humor, p

౨ৎ

DEAN WINCHESTER DRABBLES / ONESHOTS ⟢ the language of love isn’t dead | 2.4K, f, a ⟢ flower shop, 11:00 a.m. | 644, f ⟢ gas station, 3:04 a.m. | 615, h/c, p

HEADCANONS ⟢ best friend!dean | 1K , f, p

౨ৎ

BOTH DRABBLES / ONESHOTS (all platonic) ⟢ sorry won’t cut it (rewrite) | 4.1K, a, h/c ⟢ broken, fine for tonight | 1.3K, h/c ⟢ easy, maybe | 3K, h/c ⟢ safe now | 1.4K, h/c

HEADCANONS (all separate) … nothing yet !

౨ৎ

RUBY DRABBLES / ONESHOTS ⟢ abandoned church, 5:30 a.m. | 540, f ⟢ cry for me | 1.2K, s, MDNI ⟢ lick it better | 1.2K, s, MDNI ⟢ indulge | 1.2K, f ⟢ real cute | 3.5K, s, MDNI ⟢ don't mind | 597, a

HEADCANONS ⟢ girlfriend hcs | 1.3K, f

౨ৎ

CHARLIE BRADBURY DRABBLES / ONESHOTS ⟢ make you feel so good | 1.K, s, MDNI

HEADCANONS … nothing yet !

౨ৎ

JO HARVELLE DRABBLES / ONESHOTS ⟢ so pretty | 1.7K, s, MDNI ⟢ hooked | 1.6K, s, MDNI

HEADCANONS ⟢ girlfriend hcs | 1.6K, f

౨ৎ

JESSICA MOORE DRABBLES / ONESHOTS ⟢ our girl | 1.2K, s, MDNI, w/sam

HEADCANONS … nothing yet !

౨ৎ

© SAMSBLADES 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. COPYING, TRANSLATING, AND REPOSTING IS PROHIBITED.

[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]

Shifter | The (Mis)Adventures iii

Summary - Meg's father picks her up from school. Or does he? Set between 1x16 (Shadow) and 1x20 (Dead Man's Blood).

Pairings/characters - Meg Winchester (OC), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer (mentioned).

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

Warnings - some violence, swearing, John Winchester's A+ parenting

Language - English (British)

Word Count - 9,910 (I got a bit carried away...)

Notes - This is set between 1x16 and 1x20, with some canon divergence. Not proof read lmao

Credits - gif via @lower-the-volume

The Winchester's were settled - as settled as they ever were - in a small, nondescript town in the mid west, the same as hundreds of other towns they had stayed in or passed through over the years. Meg was even enrolled in elementary school.

After their father had finally turned up - and abruptly left again - Meg had felt uneasy, and the boys had too, though they wouldn't admit it, so they decided that sticking to one town for a while could be good for all of them.

Meg hadn't really been to school before. She was home-schooled, sort of, by her brothers and occasionally Uncle Bobby. They didn't follow a curriculum or do tests, but they spent a few hours each day going over all different subjects - numbers, reading, history, science - and Meg frequently had her head in a book. She hadn't expected to like school. While she most definitely did not like being separated from her brothers all day, she enjoyed the classroom and the playground, hanging out with kids her own age, using the multitude of crayons and pens and craft supplies, playing with footballs and bicycles.

What she had never imagined was that her father would pick her up from school. Mrs P. - that's what everyone called her - waved Meg over to the school gate where John Winchester stood waiting. Meg's eyes were wide as saucers when she saw him, half excitement, half trepidation.

"Daddy!" she cried nonetheless, throwing her small arms around him in a hug. He swung her off the ground and sat her on his hip, giving her hair an affectionate pat. "Bye Mrs P.!" Meg called as John walked towards the car. It was different from his truck, not as big or shiny. Maybe the truck was broken and Dean was fixing it. He was good like that. That must be why Dean wasn't here.

John opened the passenger side door and placed Meg on the seat. No car seat! "Dean says little kids have to have a car seat, Daddy," Meg said. John gave her a conspiratorial smile.

"I thought you were a big girl now?" he replied, switching on the ignition. Meg beamed.

"I am, Daddy. But Dean doesn't listen." she replied, fiddling with the various buttons. John pulled away from the school just as she found the radio.

________

Dean locked the Impala and meandered through a crowd of children and soccer moms to the school gate. Meg was usually waiting for him, stood patiently next to her teacher. She enjoyed school, but he had to admit it made him a little warm and fuzzy inside to know she missed him.

Today, however, Meg wasn't stood by the gate. Mrs P., the third grade teacher, was talking to a small group of moms, their children playing with each other nearby. Dean scanned the playground quickly, a small frown on his face, looking for two brown pigtails and dungarees. The playground was emptying now, children trailing out of the gate onto buses and into minivans, so it should've been easy to see her.

Dean caught Mrs P.'s eye, beckoning her over with a nod of his head.

"Hey, where's Meg?" he asked, cutting right to the point.

"Oh! Her father picked her up today." Mrs P. said with a smile. Dean's stomach dropped, twisting anxiously.

"What?" he asked, momentarily dumbfounded. "I mean... our father's out of state on business."

"Oh, well... he signed in at the front desk. Showed his ID and everything. John Winchester, Kansas, right?" Mrs P. asked, looking confused but not exactly concerned.

Dean, on the other hand, was extremely concerned. Dad wouldn't just show up and take Meg out of school, not without telling him, and he certainly wouldn't show his actual ID.

"He... he's not here." Dean said, through gritted teeth. "So who has my sister?" Dean tried his best to remain calm, not to let panic and fear overwhelm him.

"I can assure you, Dean, he is here. Reception checked his ID against our records."

"He isn't even listed as an authorised adult to pick her up!" he said, voice rising. "Sam and I filled in those damn forms ourselves. How the hell could you let an eight year old wonder out of school with a stranger?"

"Not a stranger, her father." Mrs P. replied, an edge to her voice. "You are more than welcome to check with the front desk if you have any concerns, but we do our due diligence before letting the children leave."

Dean's jaw was set as he turned on his heel, stalking back towards his car. He flipped his phone out, dialling his father's number. He wasn't expecting an answer, and indeed, John did not pick up. He tried Sam instead, hitting the gas and pulling away from the school.

"Sam, is Meg with you?" Dean asked, voice sharp.

"What?" Sam's voice crackled through the phone. "Of course not. You're picking her up."

"She's not here. They said... the teacher said Dad picked her up."

"Dad? Our dad?" Sam asked. "He's not even in the state is he? Why would he just show up and pick Meg up from school?"

"I don't know!" Dean shouted down the phone, no longer able to suppress the panic. "I mean - he wouldn't. You heard him the other week, he thinks it's too dangerous for us to be together anyway. No way he'd just show up unannounced and take Meg."

"What do we do, Dean?" Sam asked, urgency and fear in his voice.

"I'm on my way back to you. I've tried Dad but can't get him, you keep calling, texting, anything." With that, Dean hung up, speeding back towards the motel. He tried his dad again as he pulled in to the space outside their room.

"Dad?" he asked, shocked to the core he even picked up.

"Dean," his father's voice was flat, unimpressed. "I told you-"

"Have you got Meg?" Dean cut him off. They didn't have time for a lecture.

"What? Why would I have Meg?"

"The school said you picked her up. Showed your ID to reception. Is she with you?"

"No, Dean, of course she's not with me. Who the fuck has her? Why would they let her leave with a random-"

"I don't know! I don't know, Dad. But she - she's not here. She wasn't at school, she's not - fuck!" Dean cried down the phone, the fear now all-consuming. "What state are you in?"

"Just left Texas. Text me your address, I'm on my way." John replied, voice icy cold and tense. Then he hung up, without waiting for a reply.

Dean slammed the door of the motel room shut behind him.

"Dad's in Texas," he said by way of greeting to Sam, who had been pacing the motel room, cellphone in hand. Sam stopped pacing, face pale.

"Then... then who..?"

"I don't know," Dean snapped harshly. "I don't - fuck. How could I let this happen?"

"Dean, this isn't... you couldn't have known this would happen. I called Bobby, he's on his way. Figure... figured we'd need all the help we could get." Sam said, trying to comfort his brother, who felt everything, everywhere was his fault.

"Dad is too. Says he just left Texas."

"Dad's coming?" Sam asked, unable or not bothered enough to hide the surprise in his voice.

"Yes, Sam, of course he's coming. His daughter is m-" Dean couldn't even say the word. Missing. His jaw was tense, breathing heavy. "He'll be here."

"So, what could've taken her? A shifter, maybe, if it looked like dad?" Sam questioned, reverting into problem-solving mode. "But then, what the hell would a shifter want with Meg? Or dad, for that matter?"

"I don't know, Sam," Dean said. God, how many times had he said those words this last hour? So many unknowns - who had her? Was she hurt? Or worse, was she -

No. Dean couldn't go there. If he started thinking like that, starting spiralling and letting the fear control him, they might never get her back.

"Does the school have cameras?" Sam asked, opening his laptop. "We could look for camera flares." Dean nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath.

This was a hunt. A case. He could do that. Work the case, find the monster, save the kid. It's what he does. What he's been doing most of his life. It's just a case.

________

It didn't take Meg long to figure out something was... wrong with her father. As if showing up to her school hadn't been strange enough, they then drove out of town, opposite direction to the motel the Winchester's had been staying in.

"Where are Sam and Dean?" Meg piped up from the passenger seat. Dad hadn't even prompted her to put a seat belt on, but she'd done it anyway. Otherwise Dean would just lecture her.

"They're... they'll meet us there." John replied, eyes fixed on the road.

"Where?" Meg asked.

John's jaw tensed. Meg was used to that. She asked a lot of questions, and Dad rarely answered. Usually snapped at her to be quiet. Dean explained things, as best he could, in a way that she could understand, a way that wouldn't scare her too much. "Never mind where," John replied, as his cell began to ring. He flipped it open, eyes darting between the road and the screen. "Yeah? I've got her. Was almost too easy."

Meg listened to half the conversation, nervousness twisting in her belly. What did that mean? The voice on the end of the phone didn't sound like Sam or Dean, so who was he talking to?

Meg pressed herself closer to the door, trying to put some distance between herself and the person who looked like her father. She wanted her brothers.

John smirked into the phone. "Oh, they'll take the bait alright. She's a pretty little thing. They won't leave her behind."

Meg trembled in her seat. That didn't sound right. None of it felt right. The man looked like her father, had his voice, but... he wasn't. Something in the way he held himself, his manner of speaking. She realised with a jolt of dread and panic that this was not her father, no matter what her eyes were telling her.

She really, really wanted her brothers now.

________

Two days. It had been two days since Meg had been taken. Dean hadn't slept a wink, a combination of coffee, adrenaline, and fear keeping him up.

They had accessed the schools cameras, and indeed, it was a shifter, the eyes of not-John Winchester flaring silvery-grey. They'd even got the license plate of the car he was driving, but it was stolen a few states over and didn't lead anywhere solid. Bobby had arrived a few hours after Sam called him, helping the boys poke around the town, searching out spots where a shifter might lay low, to no avail. Further research turned up shifter-sounding cases in nearby towns, which Bobby had gone to check out, see if he could pick up a trail or find any clues.

Sam and Dean stayed in the town in case Meg showed up, following any lead they could. They expected something - a ransom call, negotiation, anything - and the lack of communication made Dean even more uneasy.

Sam had suggested calling the police, reporting her as a missing person, but Dean thought that would only make things worse. Especially if they saw the footage of John Winchester walking out the school gates with Meg on his hip. Last thing they needed was a manhunt for their father.

Dean hated the waiting. The research. They'd checked every warehouse, sewer, abandoned building in the town, twice, but it didn't feel like enough. None of it did. They were waiting on a call from Dad or Bobby, or one of their contacts to get back to them. Sam had rung the sheriff's office, security companies, anything he could think of, to see if any break ins or suspicious activity had been reported. Nothing.

All he could think of was how scared she must be. He had no idea what kind of conditions they were keeping her in - was she tied up? Was she being fed? - but the thought of a monster with their father's face holding her hostage somewhere.... Dean would never forgive himself for this. It was his job, to take care of his siblings. God, he should never have put her in school, never let her out of his sight for so long.

A harsh rap at the door startled Dean from his thoughts. He and Sam looked at each other briefly, before Dean unlocked it and opened it, revealing John Winchester.

He pushed into the room, not greeting either of his sons, slinging a duffel onto the floor. He headed for the fridge.

"What the hell happened?" he shouts, turning to face the boys, uncapping a bottle of beer. "You were supposed to look after her." Dean looked at the floor, unable to meet his father's eyes.

"I... I went to pick her up from school, and they said... they said that you had already collected her, said you showed your ID and everything, an-"

"Why the hell was she in school, Dean? You know how dangerous is can be-"

"It's just school, Dad!" Sam fired back. "We just wanted her to be a normal kid, for once in her life, school isn't supposed to be dangerous, or weird - it's where she should've been all along!"

"Oh, no, don't you lecture me about school, boy!" John shouted, old tensions and arguments coming to the surface. Dean was suffocating. "You can-"

"Alright, enough! Both of you!" Dean yelled, standing between them. "We don't have time for this, Meg needs us, so stow the crap, get over yourselves, and start thinking. Meg is relying on us." His voice trembled slightly over the last sentence. Dean had one priority right now. He had tunnel vision, focused only on the little girl who needed him to find her. The Winchester men stood silently for a tense moment, each wound like coiled springs. Dean took a steadying breath, trying to remain calm, collected. He turned to his father. "It’s a shifter. We went back and checked the camera’s outside the school, and the eyes flared. We encountered one a few months back in St. Louis." He began calmly. "Bobby is-"

"You called Bobby?" John snapped. Granted, the two men weren’t on good terms - Bobby had nearly pumped John full of buck shot last they’d seen each other - but the old man, grumpy as he could be, cared for Meg deeply.

"Yes, we called Bobby. He was closer than you, and we need all the help we can get." Dean said tightly. "I don’t care what you think of the man, he loves her, and he’s doing whatever he can to help." John clenched his jaw but didn’t say anything. Dean took it as permission to continue. "Bobby’s checking out potential shifter activity in nearby towns. There’ve been reports of strange behaviour, people in two places at once, that kinda thing. Sam and I stayed in town in case…. In case she came back. Showed up. We’ve been scouting places shifters like to hide out." John nodded. Dean could see his brain working, forming potential plans, dismissing the ones that wouldn’t work, recalling everything he could about shifters.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath and putting his bottle on the table. “That’s good. That's - it's a solid start. You got a map of this place?" Sam turned tightly, pulling out the map of the town they had found. It was covered in black and red marker, places circled and crossed out, anywhere the shifters could be keeping Meg. John leaned down, looking over the town, at the places Sam and Dean had already searched. "You checked this place?" he asked, pointing to what looked like a factory on the edge of the town.

"No, not yet." Dean said softly. Sam pulled out his computer, looking up the site.

"Okay... so it seems like it was abandoned a few years ago. An old steel mill. Seems pretty remote, could be worth searching it." Sam said, tapping away at the keyboard. "There's another empty factory, a processing plant, about... two miles further up. We could check 'em both?" John nodded stiffly.

"I'll take one, you two take the others. Where's the silver?"

"Dad, we'll be safer if we stick together. Splitting up-" Sam began

"We can cover more ground if we separate. It'll be quicker that way." John replied, his tone not leaving room for argument. But Sam pressed on.

"We have no idea how many there could be! You can't go on your own, Dad, it's-"

"Dammit, Sam, do as you're told!" John shouted, eyes blazing.

"We aren't kids anymore, Dad, you can't just give out orders like some goddamn drill sergeant!" Sam yelled back. Dean rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth.

"For the love of God!" Dean shouted, stunning Sam and John into silence. He was breathing heavily. "Dad, you take the processing plant, Sam and me will check the steel mill. We'll split up if only so I don't have to listen to you two arguing. Meg is out there, alone, terrified, and you two can't grow up and get over yourselves for five goddamn minutes! Pull yourselves together!" Dean didn't raise his voice at his father often - scratch that, ever. But he was sick with worry and needed to find his little girl, and the arguing wasn't helping. He reached for the weapons duffle. "We got silver bullets and knives in here." He said, quieter now, loading the clip of his gun with silver bullets and tucking a blade into his belt. Sam and John readied their own weapons, the room heavy with a tense silence.

They left the motel rooms, driving to the abandoned industrial estate in their separate vehicles. The Impala turned off at the steel mill, John's truck carrying on to the processing plant. As Dean looked up at the factory, his stomach twisted, praying she'd be in there, that she was safe.

"Ready?" Sam asked, checking the magazine on his gun again and pulling out a flash light. Dean swallowed, nodding, as they headed into the mill.

________

Meg's body trembled, a combination of fear and cold. They'd arrived at some old factory or warehouse a while ago, not-John dragging her in by the rope he had tied around her wrists. He had put in her in a cage, slightly bigger than a dog crate, finally releasing her bruised wrists. She could stand up, but barely, and there was a bucket in the corner. She had a thread-bare blanket wrapped around her shoulders, though it did little to stave off the biting chill.

There were three men now, the man who wasn't her father, and two shorter, mousey looking men. Mostly they left her alone, drinking beer and playing cards. Sometimes the phone rang, and the took orders from someone - Meg assumed it was their boss, because they twitched every time it rang.

Meg had never known hunger or fear or cold like she did now. She kept hoping, praying, begging Sam and Dean to find her, believing in her brother's to rescue her. But every hour that passed made her worry more and more that they'd never find her, that she was stuck here forever with these monsters.

It was not-John who scared her the most. It was her father, but it wasn't. His face sometimes curled into this sickening smile, so un-Dad-like, and his laugh, which she rarely heard, was cruel and callous. His green eyes raked over her like she was a piece of meat; his entire demeanour made her skin crawl.

She realised she was crying again, tears snaking down her cheeks. She was surprised she had the energy left to cry. Meg licked at the tears as the trickled down her cheeks, the moisture - though salty - a small relief on her dry tongue. As her stomach growled at her in hunger, she wondered if she was going to die.

________

Dean kicked over an old barrel outside the steel mill, frustration and panic building to new heights.

"Dean," Sam said softly. "We'll find her. She'll be alright."

"Will we, Sam? Because we are running outta places to search in this godforsaken town, and anything could be happening to her right now." He snapped, fists clenched at his sides. Sam sighed, swallowing. Dean was right; they were running out of locations in the town where a shifter could keep a young girl. But he set his jaw, taking a deep breath.

"We're gonna find her," he said, with more conviction than he felt. Dean looked at him with uncertainty, but his phone rang before he could reply.

"Dad?" he asked, hope flickering to life in his stomach.

"She ain't here," John said gruffly over the phone. "But I got someone. Think he's working for the shifters."

"Stay put, we're on our way." Dean replied, snapping his phone shut. Sam looked at him questioningly.

Dean put his foot to the floor as they sped toward the processing plant, filling Sam in on the way. The Impala screeched to a stop next to John's truck, engine barely off before he was out the car and racing inside.

John had the guy tied to a chair in the middle of the abandoned factory. He'd tested him extensively; silver, holy water, salt. He was human.

"This him?" Dean asked, voice low and rough. John nodded.

"Yeah. Found evidence that a shifter was here, reckon this one knows something." John replied, keeping his voice even.

"Evidence? You find any evidence Meg was here?" Sam asked, hope lacing his voice.

"No," John admitted quietly. "But a shifter definitely shed its skin here. Whole mess of skin and crap back there." He jerked his head toward a back room, the walls painted with blood and gunk. God, he hated shifters.

Beside them, Dean's hands clenched and unclenched into fists, his breathing ragged and uneven. He approached the man, who at least had the decency to look ashamed and afraid.

"Where is she?" Dean asked, voice low with a barely contained rage.

"Don't know what you're talking 'bout." the man said, though he avoided Dean's gaze. Dean hit him, the man's nose breaking with a crunch as Dean's fist connected. The man let out a shout, blood beginning to drip from his nose. John and Sam were by Dean's side in an instant, Sam's hand on Dean's arm.

"I said where is she?" Dean repeated, eyes simmering. He didn't have time to lose. The man spit blood onto the floor by Dean's feet.

"Fuck you," he snarled. So Dean hit him again. This time Sam pulled him away, forcing him to take several steps back.

"Dean, stop. Stop it. He's human." Sam said.

"And?" Dean asked, eyes still firmly fixed on the target. Sam was taken aback by Dean's callousness, the unnerving look in his eyes.

"I know you've been working with shifters. Where'd they go?" John asked calmly, pacing in front of the man.

"I already said, I don't know what you're on about." the man repeated, blood coating his teeth and dripping down his jaw. Dean tried to step toward him but Sam blocked him, hands on his shoulders.

"Listen, Steve. It is Steve, isn't it?" John asked in that same, even tone. He didn't wait for a reply. "We can do this two ways. Either tell us who you've been working for, and where they went. Or I'll let my boy here beat it out of you." The man gulped. Dean liked the sound of the second option.

"I'm just a caretaker. Ain't seen nobody round these parts for years," Steve replied, avoiding eye contact with any of the Winchester's. John sighed, but Dean didn't wait for permission.

He launched himself at Steve, punching him so hard the chair fell backwards. Dean knelt on top of the man, gripping the collar of his shirt.

"You tell me where the hell they went right now, or so help me God." he snarled, twisting the shirt in his hands.

"God?" Steve asked, smiling. "What's God gonna do to those monsters?"

Dean hit him again, and again, breaking the chair Steve had been tied to. He dragged the man to his feet, throwing him against a nearby wall.

"My little girl is out there! You tell me what you know, or you can ask God himself what he does to monsters!" Dean shouted, forearm pressed to Steve's throat.

Behind them, Sam and John watched in silence. Sam looked briefly to John, wondering if they should stop Dean. John let the scene unfold. He'd never seen Dean so angry - so afraid. Something in John twisted when Dean called Meg his little girl. Guilt? Anger? Shame? All of them, he supposed.

And Dean was right. Meg was more his little girl than she ever was John's.

There was a pregnant pause, a brief moment of tension.

"There's a shipping yard, 'bout forty miles from here. That's where they were headed." Steve said quietly, the words slightly muffled by his split lip. Dean let the man go, turning on his heel and stalking toward the Impala.

"What do we do with this guy?" Sam asked, looking at Steve, who was slumped against the wall, a hand pressed to his face.

"Leave him," John said, picking up his weapons. "He ain't worth any more of our time."

Outside the processing plant, Dean was already in the Impala, engine revving.

"I'll follow you." John said as Sam slid in to the passenger seat. Dean nodded at his father, and the second Sam's door closed, the Impala's tyres screeching as they took off toward to the shipping yard.

________

Meg's eyes fluttered open, blinking in the dimness of the room. She'd drifted off again, despite her efforts to stay awake. She didn't know what might happen to her if she slept.

Not-John had left a little while ago, leaving the other two men to guard her. The watched her with their beady eyes, shifting in their seats, their card game abandoned. The phone, which sat on the table between them, hadn't buzzed in several hours, and it made them nervous.

Meg stayed huddled in her corner, rocking slowly in an attempt to comfort herself. She hummed Hey, Jude, the song that Dean would sing when she had a nightmare or couldn't fall asleep. It was a little comforting, but it made her miss Dean even more. She wanted him to sing it to her, to hold her close and rock her gently, snuggled against him in the Impala or a rickety motel bed. She wanted to hear Sam typing away in the corner or the sound of the Impala's engine. She wanted her brothers.

She was crying again, wondering if she'd ever see them again, every hear Dean's terrible jokes or Sam's laugh. God, at this point, she even missed her dad, the small, soft smiles he reserved for her, the way he let her sit on his shoulders, the fact she could play any music she liked in his truck.

But the thought of her father was slightly tainted now, the memories of him combining with the sinister looks of the shifter, the way it had taken her and locked her up.

Distantly, there was a clang, metal hitting metal. Meg froze, ceasing the rocking and humming, her body stiff with fear. Was not-John back? Or worse, was it the leader, the one who phoned every few hours? The one who seemed to scare even her captors.

She pressed herself as far back as she could, sharp metal bars pressing into her back, the blanket wrapped tight around her as if it could shield her. Then there was a distant shout, and her two captors stood, reaching for their knives. Meg was paralysed with fear, her whole body shaking as she tried to stay quiet, stay hidden.

The door was kicked open, and Meg whimpered as a fight broke out, the shifters launching themselves toward the door. There were shouts, the sound of metal on metal, and a gun shot. Meg screamed, the sound reverberating around the small room.

Then the cage door was rattling as someone tried to open it, and Meg pressed her hands over her ears, eyes squeezed shut. Please, please, please, she whispered to herself. I don't want to die.

Someone's hands were on her and she screamed again, thrashing her arms and scrabbling backward, although there was nowhere else to go. Distantly, she could hear someone saying her name, calling her.

"Meg. Megsie, it's me, look at me. It's Sam." he repeated, trying to reach her, to soother her. She was trembling, eyes shut and hands over her ears, pressed against the back of the cage.

She opened her eyes, looking up at Sam. Sam.

Or was it? Not-John had looked like her dad, and then she ended up here. Maybe she wasn't safe after all.

"Get back!" she cried, putting her hands out in front of her to protect herself.

"Meg, baby, it's me, it's Sam." he said again, reaching out slowly, but she screamed once more and he pulled his hand back. Behind him, a body thudded to the floor, but Sam couldn't take his eyes off her. Her cheeks were sunken in, dark bags beneath her eyes. She was shaking like a leaf, so scared - of him.

"Go away! You're not him!" she shouted, pressing her eyes shut again, sobbing softly.

Dean knelt next to Sam, his heart breaking at the sight of his little girl, so exhausted and afraid.

"Megs," he called softly, unable to hide the desperation in his voice. "Meg, it's us. Look at me, it's us." She whimpered, opening her eyes, crying softly as she saw him. She wanted so desperately to believe him. It looked like Dean, it sounded like Dean... but so did the one with her father's face, the one who had taken her.

She shuddered, shaking her head. "You're monsters," she whispered. Dean's heart broke.

"No, sweetheart. It's us. Meg, Goose, please - it's me." Dean pleaded with her, worry etched into every line on his face, voice desperate. He reached a tentative hand out for her.

"Go away! Get back, you're not him!" She cried, shrinking back into the corner. Dean was beginning to panic now, desperate to hold her, make sure she was okay, but she was afraid of him. Of him.

"Hey," Sam said softly, taking the silver blade from his pocket. "Remember the St. Louis shifter? Remember how silver burned them?"

Meg's eyes were wide, locked on to the blade, but she nodded. She remembered St. Louis, the shifter who had taken Dean's form. Sam pressed the silver blade against his hand. It didn't burn. Then he did the same to Dean, and again, the silver didn't burn his skin.

It was them. They found her.

"Sammy?" she whispered. "Dean?"

"Yeah, baby girl, it's us. It's us." Dean said softly, heart in his throat. They watched her with wide, cautious eyes as she looked between them, still trembling. She looked to Dean, his piercing green eyes glistening with fear and love and hope, then to Sam, whose wide puppy-eyed stare so often matched her own.

Her brothers. Her boys. They found her.

"De," she cried launching herself forward and into their arms. Dean gripped hold of her, pulling her firmly into his lap and cradling her close. Sam wrapped his arms around the pair of them, needing to hold his little sister close, desperate to keep her safe. Dean murmured softly against her hair, holding her so tightly and never intending to let go. She sobbed into her brother, face tucked tightly into his neck. Sam pressed a soft kiss to her head, a stray tear or two falling, his hand warm and steady on her back. She was safe.

Sam pulled away first, trying to assess Meg's body for injuries. She was scrawnier, her spine visible beneath the thin t-shirt. Her hair was matted, limbs dirty, but there were no obvious injuries, no blood. A small relief. He tried to coax her from Dean's neck, to check her face and neck for wounds, to ask if she was hurt, if she was okay, but she wouldn't move. Wouldn't, or perhaps couldn't, too afraid to let him go ever again. And, from the look on Dean's face, the few tears he discreetly wiped away, Dean wouldn't be letting her go ever again, either.

Behind the trio, the door opened, and John walked in. His shoulders sagged in relief when he saw Meg, cradled safely in her brothers arms. But she stiffened and turned at the sound, and when she saw him her face twisted in panic.

"No!" Meg cried, trying to scramble away from him, the man with her father's face. He was back. "Go away!"

"Meg - hey, no, it's him, it's Dad," Dean said gently, holding her arms so she couldn't run. "It's okay. The shifter's dead. It's really Dad." But his words had no effect. All Meg could see was the man who'd taken her. She was shaking again, eyes wide with fear, fresh tears falling down her face.

"No, no, please," she begged. Sam took the silver blade, walking quickly over to John, whose face betrayed the pain of seeing his daughter fear him.

"Meg, hey - look. No burn, see?" he said, pressing the blade to John's skin. "He's human. Not a shifter." Sam reassured her, pocketing the blade and coming back to crouch next to her. She regarded John warily, pressing herself close to Dean, who had his arm securely around her waist.

"Hey, princess." John said softly, kneeling a few feet away so as not to scare her. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." John didn't really know what he was apologising for. For the shifter taking his face? Or for not being there for her in the first place? He gave her a small, soft smile, trying to offer her some reassurance, some proof it was really him.

Meg sniffled, still pressed firmly against Dean, eyes flickering nervously over her father's face. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, turning to Dean with fresh tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, clutching Dean's hand in her own. "I'm sorry I left school without you, without checking, I- I thought that - that..." She hiccuped as Dean shushed her gently.

"Hey, no, it's not your fault, Meg. It's okay - you thought it was Dad, you couldn't have known. It's okay, sweetheart. Don't apologise." Dean said, cupping her cheek with his free hand and wiping away some stray tears. Seeing her like this, apologising for it... God, it broke his heart.

"C'mon," Sam said, standing and holding out a hand. "Let's get out of here. Get you to a hospital." Meg swallowed, wide eyes flicking between her family.

"No hospital," she whispered, voice hoarse. "Please." Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean ran his eyes over her body, no clear wounds or serious concerns evident, but God knows he'd feel better having her checked out properly. But how would they explain this to a doctor? To the CPS? He held her hands gently.

"We'll take you to the motel, check you over there. But if Sammy or I find anything that needs medical attention, we're taking you straight to a doctor. Capiche?" Dean said softly, toeing the line between doing what was best for her and not traumatising her further.

"Capiche." She echoed. When Dean stood up, she held out her arms, unwilling or perhaps unable to walk. Dean scooped her up wordlessly, glad to be able to hold her close still, and the trio headed for the door.

John hung back, unsure if he should go with them, not wanting to frighten his daughter more. He settled for trailing after them at a distance, close enough to still hear the soft, reassuring words Dean was murmuring to Meg, but far enough that Meg didn't feel threatened. Her green eyes still flicked over to him every few seconds, wary and distrusting, and it broke his heart.

Meg didn't let go of her brother, even when they got to the car. Her legs were wrapped firmly around his waist, arms around his neck, fingers gripping the collar of his leather jacket tightly. When Dean opened the rear door to the Impala, she whimpered, pressing her face into Dean's neck.

"Okay, it's alright," he said softly. "We'll sit up front, okay? Sammy can drive. You wanna pick some music?"

John watched them carefully for a few more seconds, Dean lowering himself into the car and settling Meg onto his lap, Sam waiting until the were safely inside before getting in himself. John nodded to Sam, a silent meet you at the motel passing between them.

In the Impala, Dean put the heat on full blast, while Meg opened the glovebox and found the Beatles cassette. He smiled at her choice.

"This one?" he asked, popping it in and turning the volume up a fraction. She nodded, snuggling into him, his large leather jacket enveloping them both as Sam drove them back to the motel. The car ride was quiet, Dean humming along to the Beatles, stroking gentle, soothing circles on Meg's back absentmindedly.

They beat John to the motel, pulling in front of the door. Dean carried her in, settling on the bed with her, while Sam fetched the first aid kit and a bottle of water, which Meg gulped down quickly.

"Woah, easy tiger," Dean said, easing the bottle from her grasp. "You're gonna make yourself sick." God knows how long she'd been without water, or food, or anything. He didn't want to think about that too much. Sam took Meg's hands in his gently, rolling up the sleeves. There were red marks on each wrist, bruises purpling underneath.

"Did... did they tie you up?" Sam asked quietly. Meg's lip quivered as she nodded.

"At the first place. Then they... they took me to the place with the cage." She whimpered, breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Dean squeezed her reassuringly. "I... I really thought it was him."

"I know you did, Scout. I know." Sam said, wiping her wrists with antiseptic for good measure. "Can you stand up for me?"

Meg did, legs shaking, Dean holding her arms for support - physical and emotional. Sam checked her over, feeling for broken bones, cuts, anything. Mercifully, she was okay save the bruised wrists. Sure, she'd lost some weight, was exhausted and dirty, but physically, at least, she was unhurt. Mentally, on the other hand... Sam and Dean knew it would take her some time to understand what happened, to process the trauma.

"You're okay," Sam said, reassuring Meg, himself, and Dean. "Would you like a bath, hm? Get you warmed up and clean?" Meg whimpered, shaking her head and pressing herself back against Dean. He squeezed her arms reassuringly.

"It's okay. We'll stay with you, alright? We won't leave you on your own." He murmured. Just then the motel door opened slowly, John lingering in the doorway. Meg tensed up as she saw him, pressing herself further into Dean's embrace, eyes wide and wary.

"Hey, sweetheart," John said softly, taking a few cautious steps into the room so he could close the door. "I figured you'd be hungry so I picked up some food. Pancakes sound good?" He held up a bag of food, its warm, enticing scent wafting across the small space.

Meg turned in Dean's arms, pressing her face into his neck, body trembling. Dean swallowed, holding her close, glancing at John with a pained, almost guilty expression. John was hurt, face falling as she turned away from him.

"It's okay, sunshine," Dean said reassuringly. "It's Dad. I promise you, it's really him."

"Wanna take a bath," Meg said into Dean's neck. He looked up at Sam, then John.

"Okay, sweetie. We'll get you bathed. Then you put on your pyjama's and we'll eat, yeah?" Dean spoke softly, as if speaking to a frightened animal that might bolt at any second. Meg nodded, pulling herself back from his arms slightly.

Sam grabbed her duffle, rummaging around for some pyjama's, the soft, fluffy ones she liked, draping them over the heater so they'd be warm for her. Dean picked her up carefully, sitting with her on the closed toilet seat while he ran a hot bath. John stayed, frozen, just inside the door, unsure what he should do, unable to take his eyes off the little girl who feared him now.

"Dad," Sam calls quietly. "It'll be okay. She'll come round. She just... she just needs a minute." John swallowed thickly, nodding. His eyes burned with tears he refused to let fall. God, what was he doing to his children? Sam clapped him on the shoulder, heading to the bathroom to be with Dean and Meg.

After a warm bath, the grime scrubbed from her body and her hair freshly washed, Meg pulled on the pyjama's Sam had set out for her, toasty warm from the heater. She held up a hairbrush wordlessly, silently asking one of her brother's to comb through the tangles. Sam took it, gently brushing through her damp hair, while Dean tidied the bathroom.

In the main room of the motel, John sat at the small table, bag of food in the middle, a beer in his hand. Meg stood in the doorway of the bathroom, eying him suspiciously, her toes curling anxiously into the carpet. When he noticed her, he gave her a soft smile, eyes kind.

It was her father, Meg realised suddenly. The shifter had never looked at her like that, its eyes had never been so gentle, never held anything except malice. She returned the smile with a small, hesitant one of her own, making her way slowly to the table.

"What kinda pancakes did ya get?" She asked softly.

"Chocolate chip, of course," John replied, pushing the bag towards the edge of the table. She gave him a bigger smile then, flashing the gap in her front teeth, taking another few steps towards him. He'd remembered her favourite food. Still, she waited for Sam to join them before she sat down, climbing into his lap.

He put his arm around her waist, holding her firmly on his knees so she wouldn't fall, as she began eating her pancakes, dribbling syrup down her chin. Sam ran his ringers through her unruly curls, slowing springing back to life as they dried. Dean joined them a minute later, relieved to see she was eating something, and that wasn't trembling in the presence of their father. Sam looked up at him, brows furrowed, taking in Dean's disheveled appearance and red-rimmed eyes. Dean avoided eye contact at all costs, instead pulling up a seat next to them. John handed him a beer wordlessly as they exchanged looks.

They still had questions, still needed to figure out why the shifter had taken Meg in the first place. They watched her eat a moment longer as she shoved forkful after forkful into her mouth, clearly starving. Dean wiped her sticky chin with a napkin, smiling softly down at her.

"Don't eat too fast, Goose." he said. He looked at his father again, who nodded. "Megs... do you know why the shifter took you?"

She froze, fork halfway to her mouth, eyes going wide. Her hands trembled slightly as she set the cutlery down, folding her hands in her lap. She shook her head slowly.

"They didn't say why, but... but I think they wanted you guys to come." She began softly, twisting her fingers anxiously. "They said... it said you'd take the bait." Dean reached out a hand, holding her small ones in his own, trying to soothe her. She looked up at him, wide green eyes brimming with tears again. "I'm sorry I went with him - it. I'm sorry I left school, I-"

"Hey, hey, shh. Stop apologising, sweetheart. It's not your fault." Dean said softly, one hand on her face to wipe away the tears. "It's not. You thought it was Dad, you had no reason to think otherwise." He repeated his words from earlier. He didn't want her to distrust her father, their family. It wasn't like they could have the 'don't talk to strangers' lecture; she knew that, it had been ingrained in her for as long as she could remember.

"Meg," John spoked up next to then. Her eyes flickered over to him, momentarily betraying the fear she still held for her father's visage. "Were they all shifters? Or were any of them demons? Did you smell sulphur at all?"

"I think they were shifters. I don't know what sulphur smells like, but I don't think so." Meg said quietly.

"Rotten eggs. Sulphur smells like eggs." John prompted, but Meg shook her head again. "Did they mention demons at all, any demon?"

"Dad." Sam said, voice low in warning.

"I don't think so. There was... they spoke to someone on the phone a lot. But I don't know who."

"The demon? Did they use a name at all? Or a location?" John pressed further.

"Dad." Sam repeated, more forcefully. John glared at him momentarily. Meg gulped at the sight, the warmth in his eyes earlier - the look that had reminded her this was, in fact, her father - was gone, replaced with a cool anger.

"I don't - I don't know, Dad. I'm sorry, they didn't say anything about demons, I don't think. I'm sorry." Meg whispered tearfully, avoiding John's piercing gaze. Dean stroked his thumb over her shaking hands softly.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Don't apologise." Dean reassured her.

"Anything, Meg. Anything you can think of will help us." John said again, not seeing or perhaps not caring that his daughter was growing increasingly agitated.

"Enough." Dean snapped, only half turning his head to look at his father. He turned back to Meg, his gaze softening. "It's okay if you don't know anything. Don't worry about it now, you're safe." Meg nodded, looking down at her feet, swinging a foot off the floor. "Why don't you finish eating, hm? Then we can watch cartoons." She gave him a small smile, turning to her plate, but she didn't eat anymore, just pushed pieces of pancake around the plate.

"I need some air." John muttered, standing so abruptly that Meg flinched. He looked down, eyes betraying his guilt, but didn't say anything and left the room. Dean's jaw was set as he stood - slower than John did - and followed after him.

"Dad," Dean said, closing the motel room door softly so he wouldn't startle Meg. "You can't interrogate her like that. Not after what she's just been through."

"This is the demon's work, Dean. It knows I'm closing in on it." John snaps.

"Maybe so. But your daughter just got kidnapped by a bunch of shifters. Anything could have happened to her! And you want to question her? To- to find the demon?" Dean snaps back, trying to control his temper. He loved his father, he did, but sometimes his priorities were all wrong. Dean - his top priorities always have been, and always will be, his siblings.

"We have been hunting this thing for 20 years, Dean! I am this close to catching it, to getting revenge for your mother. That's what all this is about, Dean, I'm not gonna give up now." John fires back, breathing heavily.

"No one is asking you to give up, Dad, but for once will you just try and be a parent to that little girl? Not a hunter, not a - a drill sergeant. Just a dad." Dean snaps. John swallows, looking away from his eldest son. Dean's right, he knows that; he's never been a great father, always training his children, not raising them. Still, it hurts to hear Dean say it.

"Yesterday, you - you called Meg your little girl." John started softly.

"Listen, I'm sorry about that, I-"

"No, Dean, don't apologise. You're right. Shit, you've done more for her than I ever have. You've raised her, cared for her. Everything I should have done, should be doing - you do it. And you do it well. She - she's a wonderful kid, Dean." John looked at his son, pride in his eyes. Dean nodded, a small, fond smile on his face as he thought about her. "My point is, Dean, is that you look after this family. Better than anyone, better than I ever have. I know I'm never around much, I - I don't always put you guys first. But you do. You put this family first, you put your siblings first, always. Every time." Dean nodded, understanding what his father was trying to say - thank you for everything you do, I'm proud of you, I'm sorry - without actually saying it. John clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Dean. For looking after them."

Back inside the motel, Meg was curled up on Sam's lap, trusty red checkered blanket it tow, her favourite plushie, Patch, gripped in one hand. Tom and Jerry played quietly, the lights of the TV illuminating their faces in the dim of the room.

Dean and John entered quietly, but the disruption still made Meg jump, head snapping towards the door. Sam held her closer, keeping her safe.

"Hey, princess," John said quietly, standing near the couch. "I - I gotta take off. It's not safe for any of us if I stick around too long."

"You're leaving?" Sam said in disbelief.

"Yes," John said sharply, eyes flickering back to Meg. "Your brothers are gonna take real good care of you, like always. They'll keep you safe, alright?" Meg nodded, looking up at him. John moved, as if to hug her or take her in his arms, but he settled for resting his hand against her head briefly. "I - I love you, sweetheart. I'm sorry I haven't been here."

Meg just nodded, eyes wide as she looked up at him. John nodded to each of his sons, picking his duffle off the floor. He looked at Dean once more.

"Watch out for your siblings." He said gruffly, before turning on his heel and walking out. The door shut behind him, the three siblings sitting silently for a moment. Dean looked at Meg, at the bags under her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks. He walked over to them, kneeling in front of her.

"Hey, sweet cheeks. How you feeling? You still hungry?" he asked softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. She shook her head. "Okay. Good. Why don't we get you to bed?" Her eyes flickered across the room then back to Dean.

"Will you both stay with me?" she murmured. Dean smiled, nodding.

"Yeah, we will. You want Sammy to read you a story?" She nodded eagerly, holding her arms out to Dean. He swung her onto his hip hugging her close and pressing a kiss to her head. Sam rifled through his bag, looking for The Hobbit. He'd read it to her when he came back from Stanford, and now it was her favourite.

"Can we do a Meg sandwich?" she asks, eyes hopeful. Sam and Dean share a look; the Meg sandwich, as it became known, had started when the heating had packed up in a crappy motel in Chicago in the middle of winter. The Winchester siblings, left alone by their father, had piled into one bed for warmth, two-year-old Meg snuggled between her brothers. It fast became one of her favourite things in the world, even if it wasn't the most comfortable for the boys.

Any other time, under any other circumstances, they probably would've said no. But she'd been gone nearly three days, and they'd come so close to losing her... they couldn't refuse. They didn't want to refuse, both wanting to keep her close for a while, keep her safe.

"Sure thing," Dean said, sliding into the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her. Sam sat on her other side, book in hand, opening it to the first page. Meg lay snuggled against Dean's chest, but faced Sam. He cracked the spine on the well-worn copy of the Hobbit, clearing his throat.

"Are you sitting comfortably?" he asked theatrically. Meg giggled and nodded. "Very good. Let's begin. In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole...."

Meg was asleep within three pages, using Dean's arm as a pillow, her small leg hooked over Sam's. He put the book down, moving some hair from her face, watching her sleep.

"You okay?" he asked Dean. He'd seen his brother's face earlier, his hair tousled where he ran his hands through it, his red eyes. Sam suspected it was a panic attack or something similar, though God knows Dean Winchester would never admit that.

"I'm fine," Dean said shortly, sighing as he looked down at the little girl in his arms. "I just... we came so close to losing her. So close. And I don't know what I would've done if - if-"

"I know," Sam cut him off, not wanting to dwell on that scenario. "But she's okay. She's safe now."

"We can't put her back in school. Not until this demon business is over and Dad's back. We can't take that chance."

"I agree. We'll just continue homeschooling her." Sam replied. Dean nodded. "You should get some rest too, Dean. You didn't sleep a wink the whole time she was missing." Dean shook his head stubbornly.

"Nah. I'll watch over her. She'll feel safer that way." Sam rolled his eyes at his brother.

"No, I'll watch over you both. Get some sleep, you look like crap."

"Oh, thanks, man." Dean replied sarcastically. Sam's eyes rolled again.

"You know what I mean. Get some rest." Sam studied him for a moment, wondering if he'd refuse again. But he didn't; Dean nodded, eyes still fixed on Meg's sleeping form, sliding down to be more comfortable.

Sam watched Dean's eyes flutter close, saw his breathing even out. There weren't many times Sam felt like the oldest and most responsible one. But now, watching his siblings sleep, keeping them safe, he felt the profound sense of responsibility he wondered if Dean always felt. Eventually, Sam sunk back into the pillows too, his arm over Meg's waist, until he drifted off into sleep as well.

________

The Winchester's had left the following afternoon, all three of them wanting to put distance between themselves and the town. Meg had sat in the front of the Impala, nestled between her brothers, too afraid to be alone in the back.

A week later, a new town, a different motel room, Meg woke up alone.

"Dean?" she called out. "Sammy?" She looked around warily. She didn't like being alone anymore.

The key clicked in the lock of the door not a minute later, and her brothers walked in. She scrambled out of bed, backing into the corner.

"Is it definitely you?" she called shakily, unsure if it really was them or if it was monsters wearing their faces. Sam and Dean sighed, pulling out a silver blade. This happened every time one of them left her sight for more than a few minutes. Every time Dean went for food, or Sam to the library, she panicked they'd been swapped for a shifter. They were trying to be patient, of course they were, they knew what she had been through; but it was exhausting.

They each press the blade to their skin, and Meg visibly relaxes when there is no reaction.

"Come here," Dean says, beckoning her over to the small living area. He hoists her up, sitting her on his knee. "Sammy and I had to run a quick errand. It's gonna help you, though. Okay?" She nodded earnestly, looking between her brothers, then to the paper bag in Sam's hand. "Okay. We know you're scared, that you can't tell who's a shifter and who's human. And you know that silver burns shifters, right? Right. Well, this ring," he gestures to the ring that is always on his right hand. "This is silver. And Sammy, we got him a silver bracelet." Sam pulls a silver chain from the bag, as well as a small ring. "And this here, this is for you. A silver ring. So, if you're ever not sure whether someone's human or not, you simply shake their hand. And as long as me and Sammy have our silver on, you'll always know it's really us. Sound good?"

Meg nodded slowly, watching as Sam put his chain on, letting Dean wiggle the ring onto her finger. She fiddled with it, spinning it round, getting used to the feel of it. She leant her head back against Dean's shoulder.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Her brother's had gone to all this effort just so she'd feel safe. Dean smiled at her.

"You don't have to thank us, sweetheart. We're gonna look after you. Always." Dean said softly, rubbing her arm soothingly. Sam smiled at her, too, taking her hand as she reached out for him. "We're gonna take a few days off, okay? No hunting this week. Anything you wanna do?"

Meg thought for a moment, tapping her finger on her chin. "Hmmm.... Disney World?" Sam and Dean exchanged a nervous glance.

"Maybe not Disney World... we could find a carnival or something though." Dean said. Meg sighed softly. She really wanted to go to Disney.

"Okay. Can I ride the ghost train?" she asked. "Oh, and the dodgems. And can we get cotton candy? Or popcorn! I wonder if they sell candy apples?" Meg rambled on, her mood lifting, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. Sam and Dean shared a smile, glad they could ease her worry, if only for a short while. She still didn't sleep well, waking up screaming most nights, insisting the kept a light on. She didn't like to be alone, or be too far from her brothers.

But this morning, she was excited about something. She was bouncing on Dean's knee, talking about food, mostly, but also about stuffed toys and games and fairground rides. Dean put a gentle hand on her head, trying to stop the bouncing.

"Easy, tiger." he said with a laugh. Then she asked the dreaded question.

"Can I choose the music in the car?" Dean sighed. So much for the house rules.

"Fine. Just this once." he said.

But he was lying. All three of them knew it. Meg Winchester could choose the music in the Impala whenever she damn well pleased. She was the only person in the world whom the house rules didn't apply to.

Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts their cakehole; Meg wins them both over with a gap-toothed smile and a glimmer in her eyes.

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

this is very much not proofread lol

thx for reading! lmk if you'd like to join the tag list :)

@podado-t-memes @ariesandwolves

[annaruby]

hm. thinking.

[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”

[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-