#supernatural 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!

[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.

[unknowntoyou2205]

Ain't the life for me

Info: y/n Winchester lived a life away from supernatural life, but one day turns that tale around.

Relationship: Winchester brothers x sister reader

Y/n Winchester yawned as she looked the door behind her. It was late at night and she had just finished her shift at the local diner. For the past 4 years she lived a life away from her brothers, contact was limited, bar the odd call the only way y/n communicated with her brothers was by text. They didn’t see each other but they kept tabs on her. Being the youngest of three, Dean and Sam had always been protective of their little sister.

Growing up with a father who had his vision set on catching a yellow eyes demon, y/n had been the after thought until her brothers found out about her. She was the offspring of an affair, and with her mother having no means to take care of herself, let alone a baby, y/n’s father had found the young babe being sprung into his care. He had Sprung the child onto Dean and Sam, and between the two y/n had become someone who knew she could become whatever she wanted to be. They made sure that she knew the basic self-defense skills to defend herself if needed, but they never forced her to learn how to use a gun or weapons. She told them she didn’t want to be involved in hunting, and they respected that, hiding their relief. She was their baby, and nothing could harm her with them around. Or so they thought.

With her headphones in her ears, y/n couldn’t hear the sounds around her. She kept her vision down, with her hood up to protect herself from the harsh winds that was starting to build up. It was unnaturally cold, but y/n took no notice, instead opting to pull her jacket closer to her body. She only looked up when she bumped into someone. Confusion came over her when she seen the figure of her oldest brother in front of her.

“Dean?” Y/n asked, furrowing her eyebrows gently as she took out an earbud. “Hey kid.” Dean smiled at her, throwing a glance over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?” y/n asked, not used to seeing her brother in person. “Had a case close by, decided to come see you before we left.” Sam’s voice came for behind her, and y/n turned to face her two brothers. “Okay?” Y/n spoke slowly before walking down the road again, hearing two sets of footsteps behind her. “Why don’t we drop you home. Save you walking the streets in the dark.” Dean offered, and y/n smiled slightly. “I am quite capable of walking in the dark, been doing it for years at this stage.” Y/n rolled her eyes at her brothers protectiveness. “Come on, don’t you want to spend time with your big brothers.” Dean smirked, and y/n eyed him slightly. “Okay, if you insist.” Y/n shrugged, liking the idea of some extra time with her brothers.

Dean smiled at her and linked his arm with hers, and y/n couldn’t help but look at him weirdly. He was acting out of character. Dean would never link arms with her, in fact if either of them were to make contact with her, it would be Sam. Dean was the type to kiss her head and wouldn’t make much contact with her unless she needed it. So having him this close, wasn’t something y/n was used to. But than again, maybe 4 years meant he wanted to be close to her while he could. She glanced at Sam as they came to a stop, but took a double take when she seen the car.

“That’s not baby.” Y/n spoke. “We’re not your brothers either.” ‘Sam’ spoke, and y/n gasped as she turned around. “Surprise kid.” ‘Dean’ smirked, grabbing her arms as ‘Sam’ opened the boot of the car. “No please.” Y/n begged, throwing her arms out only for ‘Dean’ to be much stronger. “Too easy.” ‘Dean’ chuckled as he forced her into the boot, ‘Sam’ slamming it before y/n had the chance to get up.

----

Dean groaned as y/n’s answer machine came through for the 6th time. He had been trying to call her for the last half hour, checking up on her to see how she was getting on. Not answering her phone wasn’t unusual, but not answering after the third time was. Y/n had a habit of answering calls eventually, and made it her mission to answer it after multiple calls. So having to attempt to get through to her 6 times, was worrying. Seeing his brothers frustration, Sam sighed.

“How many times have you tried?” Sam asked. “6. I’m worried Sammy, she never goes this long when seeing calls.”

Sam went to reply only for his phone to light up. Seeing y/n’s face pop up, he showed Dean before answering it.

“Hey y/n, you okay? Dean’s been trying to get through to you for awhile now.” Sam asked, and Dean moved closer, indicating for the phone. “Sam.” Y/n cried out, and Sam froze. “Y/n, what’s wrong?” He asked, and Dean whipped his head to face him as he heard his brothers worry. “Sam, Sammy, please help me.” A mock replica voice of his was heard over the phone. “Who is this?” Sam asked, and Dean rushed over, leaning closer to hear. “Why I’m you Sam. At least to y/n I am. Good old big brother Dean is here too, ain’t ya Dean.” “Sure am.” Deans voice was heard over the phone and Dean took a deep breath as he realized. “Shape shifters.” Dean groaned, and Sam nodded in agreement. “I have to say, it was a lot easier to catch the girl than we thought. She went right along until the last minute. You know may be four years since you last seen her but good old baby ain’t hard to forget.” ‘Dean’ spoke into the phone and Dean grabbed the phone from Sam with a hard grip. “I swear to God if you harm her in any way…” “Careful Dean, you’re a long way away from getting here on time should we do anything to sweet old y/n.” ‘Dean’ Spoke back to his double before a cry was heard. “Let her go.” Dean stated harshly, his hand going white around the phone he held tightly. “I don’t think so, I think we’ll play with her for a bit. What you think Sammy.” “Great idea.” ‘Sam’ agreed with his ‘brother’, throwing a smirk at y/n who squirmed under his vision. “I swear to God.” Dean spoke through gritted teeth. “Say hello y/n, it may be the last chance to talk to them.” “Dean, Sam, please, don’t let them hurt me, please.” Y/n cried as ‘Sam’ grabbed her arm tightly while ‘Dean held the phone to her. “Y/n kid just hold on.” Dean stated, looking at Sam as his brother closed his eyes. “Sorry, signal cutting off. Gotta go.” ‘Dean’ replied into the phone before a scream was heard as the phone cut dead.

“Shit.” Dean cursed, throwing a hand through his hair. “We gotta go.” Sam stated, moving to grab baby’s keys.

----

Y/n’s eyes struggled to stay open while she sat in an old wooden chair that felt like it would break at any moment. The shapeshifters of her brothers had long since gone, having gave her a few bruises before leaving her alone. Movement could be heard outside the door every now and then, so y/n knew they weren’t gone far. She was tired and hungry, with her mouth gone dry long ago from lack of water. The taste of blood was evident, and she could feel pain in her shoulders from taking the strain of her tied arms behind her back. She longed for her actual brothers, but she had no idea if she would see them, or their real selves.

Her vision clouded slightly as she fought tiredness, before jumping when the door opened with a bang against the door. Two figures came into view, and y/n could see the Winchester brothers walking in. Noticing the change of clothes, her heart beat increased at the thought of possibly being saved. ‘Dean’ walked over to her and crouched down in front of her.

“Dean?” She asked, hope evident in her voice. “Hey kid.” ‘Dean’ spoke, placing a hand on her cheek before laughing when she leaned into his touch. “Too easy.” He laughed at her as he pushed her face to the side as he got back up, ‘Sam’ smirking as he walked over to them. “poor y/n, can’t tell if her brothers are here or not.” ‘Sam mocked her, and y/n couldn’t help the tear that fell down her cheek as she looked down. “I mean technically they are.” ‘Dean explained, throwing an arm out in her direction. “Just not the nice ones.” He winked at y/n, and y/n grimaced slightly.

The boys heads turned away from her as the sound of footsteps were heard. Y/n looked at the door with hope as a shine of light was seen coming closer to where the trio were. Her breath caught in her throat as she heard the sound of Sam and Dean muttering to themselves, and she let out a shout to gain their attention. Seeing what she was doing ‘Sam’ stalked towards her and grabbed her neck, taking a knife out from his pocket. She could only watch as two figured came in the door, and she smiled slightly as she seen the two faces that appeared.

“Well, look who it is.” ‘Dean’ spoke out, sharing a smirk with the ‘Sam’ over his shoulder before walking towards the two brothers. “Glad you could make it.” “Y/n, you ok?” Sam called out to her, and y/n winched as the hand on her neck tightened slightly. “Oh she’s fine, a little beat up but that does no one any harm.” ‘Sam’ replied to his doubleganger before raising the knife into everyone’s vision. “No.” Dean called out as the knife was brought down, but nothing was felt on y/n’s end. “No, please don’t hurt her, no.” ‘Dean’ mocked the brothers as he turned to face y/n as she was pulled off the chair by ‘Sam’. “Let’s play a game. Hide and Seek. We seek, y/n here hides.” ‘Sam’ smirked, pulling y/n close to him in a side hug. “Winner get’s y/n.” ‘Dean’ winked at her, and y/n squirmed slightly. “To hell with that.” Dean’s gruff voice shouted out, and y/n looked at him. “I just wanna go home.” y/n pleaded, shaking her head as tears welled in her eyes, eyes boring into her oldest brothers. "I just wanna go home." 'Sam' mocked her, pulling her head back.

Dean kept his eyes on y/n’s, his heart clenching to see his little sister so scared. They kept their distance to protect her, but all it did was lead danger to her. The Winchesters had their enemies, he should of known they’d of found their way to their sister somehow. He took a breath in as he nodded at her gently, before moving his gun up and shooting it. Y/n gasped at the loud bang, and felt herself being thrown to the ground suddenly.

“Y/n, move out of the way.” Dean shouted at her, and y/n didn’t need to be told twice.

She made a run out of the room, not turning back as she heard a fight start. Loud breathing was heard repeatedly as bodies were heard colliding. Leaning against the wall, y/n put her hands over her head to cover herself, trying to ignore the loud sounds. When it grew quiet she slowly began to look up, and she gasped as she seen what looked like Sam appear in front of her.

“Y/n.” Sam breathed, moving towards her. “No.” Y/n shouted, not trusting what was real or not. “Hey, hey kid, it’s us. It’s us bunny.” Deans voice was heard as he crouched in front of her, and y/n looked up. “Only one person calls me that name.” Y/n mumbled, recalling her childhood name. “Yeah, only one person would know that.” Dean chuckled lightly, remembering how she got that name. “Oh my God. You’re here, your really here.” Y/n cried, going to reach for Dean, but hesitating slightly. “Didn’t think we’d let them have you did you.” Dean asked, “I mean sure they look like us but are they really as good as the real deal.” Dean joked, causing y/n to chuckle lightly. “Thank you.” Y/n smiled, looking Dean in the eyes. “Hey come here, your old brother needs a hug after four years of purely texts.” Dean smiled, indicating for y/n to come give him a hug.

Y/n giggled lightly before moving to pull Dean into a hug. Dean brought his hand up to cup the back of y/n’s head, kissing her head as she snuggled into his chest. She hadn’t long pulled away from him when Sam moved to pull her to him. Y/n sighed in content, loving being in the arms she used to lay in as a little girl when she couldn’t sleep and needed comfort. The boys laughed happily as y/n moved back to look between the two of them.

“Why don’t we get you home.” Sam stated, cupping y/n’s cheek slightly. “Baby?” Y/n asked, looking at Dean. “Baby’s a keeper y/n, you know that.” Dean told her, and y/n smiled happily.

---

The ride home was quiet, the two boys relieved to have their sister safe, and y/n happy to be in the company of her brothers. No one spoke, but they didn’t need to, their company allowed them to know that each of them were safe. Which is why no one moved when Dean pulled up to y/n’s apartment building.

“Want to stay at mine tonight? I have an extra room and a camp bed I can make up.” Y/n offered, hoping her brothers would say yes. “Sure beats a motel.” Sam looked at Dean after a moment considering. “I get the bed.” Dean hit Sam’s chest before getting out of the car, opening the back door for y/n.

Y/n laughed at the brothers antics as they wrestled to the front door. There live might not be for her, but having her brothers with her was the life she wanted, both real and fake.

[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

[thewnchstrs]

Jus in Bello

Pairing: Winchester!Sister(OC)

Summary: Sam, Dean and Ellie break into Bela's apartment in order to get the Colt back, but she has tipped off Agent Henriksen to their whereabouts

Disclaimers: blood, death, gunshots, ANGST!!!!!!!

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: this very well may be one of my favorite parts so far!!!! I hope you love it!!

S E R I E S   M A S T E R L I S T

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

Monument, Colorado

The search for Bela took us across the country from where we were in Florida. The three of us filed into the small studio apartment Bobby was sure she was staying in, guns drawn. I closed the door behind us, scanning the area for any sign of her. When we knew the coast was clear, we began the search for the Colt. I dropped to my stomach beside the bed, pushing away lone socks and pairs of shoes, pulling out a cardboard box. I rifled through it, only coming up with fake badges. Sam was going through the drawers of the tv stand while Dean was opening each of the dresser drawers.

"Any sign of it?" I asked, looking up to Sam and Dean as I shoved the box back under the bed.

Sam slammed shut an empty safe. "Nothing. Are you sure this is Bela’s room?"

Dean turned to us, a blonde wig in one hand and a red one in the other. "I’d say so."

The landline on the unmade bed began to ring. We looked to each other, unsure whether or not to answer it considering we did just break in. I stood from the floor, slowly lifting the phone off the stand and brought the receiver to my ear. “Hello?”

"Ellie?” Bela’s voice came through the other end. I rolled my eyes. “Sweetie, are you there?"

I clenched my jaw, "Where are you?"

"Two states away by now."

"Where?"

I could tell she was smirking as she spoke, "Where’s our usual quippy banter? I miss it."

"I want it back, Bela…now,” I said, gripping the phone. Our life was so much easier before she sauntered into it. Dean ran an annoyed hand through his hair as Sam rolled his eyes in annoyance at the situation.

"Your little pistol, you mean? Sorry, I can’t at the moment."

"You understand how many people are gonna die if you do this?"

"What exactly is it that you think I plan to do with it?"

The answer seemed obvious to me: "Take the only weapon we have against an army of demons and sell it to the highest bidder."

"You know nothing about me."

"I know I’m gonna stop you."

"Tough words for someone who can’t even find me."

I smirked, "Oh, I’ll find you. You know why? Because I have absolutely nothing better to do than to track you down."

"That’s where you’re wrong. You’re about to be quite occupied.” I furrowed my eyebrows. “Did you really think I wouldn’t take precautions?"

Before I could ask any questions, the door to the apartment was swiftly kicked down as six armed officers in bullet proof vests and guns blazing swarmed around us. "Hands in the air! Drop your weapons!”

I dropped the phone and my gun onto the bed, our hands flying into the air. I shook my head, "That bitch.”

“Down on the ground, now!” They shouted. Sam, Dean and I dropped to our knees as two officers flanked each of us and pushed us flat to the floor. One kept their guns trained at our backs while the other yanked our wrists behind us, securing them tightly with handcuffs.

"Sam, Dean, and Ellie Winchester, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” one of the officers recited. I winced at the pressure of the cuffs. Another pair of feet came into the room. His shoes were black, polished so neatly I could almost see my reflection in them. “You have the right to speak to an attorney and have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed to you."

Sam, Dean and I glanced upward to the FBI agent hovering over us. He looked familiar. I wracked my brain for where I knew him from. It didn’t take long to realize that this was the same agent who’d responded to the bank robbery in Milwaukee last year, where the shapeshifters were wearing our skin. The same one that was hell-bent on putting us away forever.

"Hi guys,” Agent Henriksen greeted. “It’s been a while."

The three of us glanced at each other. We are so incredibly fucked.

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

Agent Henriksen’s POV

"So did you get them?" The Sheriff asked immediately as I came through the small station.

"Where is everyone? I asked for all your men,” I said. He was lucky we caught them off guard, because if the Winchesters had gotten away again, the Sheriff’s head would be on a stick.

"And you got them. They went with you on the raid."

I cocked an eyebrow at him, "Six men? That’s all?"

"Everyone I could drum up with an hour’s notice. We’re a small town, Agent Henriksen."

I shook my head, moving past him toward the row of cells just around the corner. The biggest one was being occupied by a disheveled man asleep on a cot. The Sheriff and one of his officers followed close behind. I pointed to the man in the cell, "What’s he in for?"

"Drunk and disorderly."

I held out my hand, "Keys. Now."

The officer behind the Sheriff immediately gave them up. The Sheriff’s eyes widened as I entered the cell, "What are you doing?"

I grabbed the man by the back of his tattered jacket, pulling him to his feet, "It is your lucky night, sir. You're free to go."

"What the hell are you doing?" The Sheriff asked incredulously as I walked the man out the back door. "Agent Henriksen, you can’t just release my prisoners...Agent Henriksen!"

I whipped around, startling him, "Look, I get it…you’re Mayberry P.D."

He narrowed his eyes, "Excuse me?"

"And this isn’t how I’d do it if I had my choice. But a tip’s a tip and we had to move fast."

"Look, Agent, this ain’t my first rodeo-"

"No," I stopped him right there. There was nothing this small-town sheriff has seen that could even come close to these monsters. "You’ve never been to a rodeo like this before. You have any idea who we’re about to bring in here?"

"Yeah, a couple of fugitives."

"The most dangerous criminals you’ve ever laid your eyes on,” I corrected, making the Sheriff's face twitch slightly. “Think Hannibal Lecter and his half-wit little siblings. Do you know what these guys do for kicks? Dig up graves and mutilate corpses. They’re not just killers, Sheriff. They’re Satan-worshipping, nutbag killers. So work with me here. I’ll get them out of your hair and on their way to Supermax and you’ll be home in enough time to watch the farm report."

The Sheriff’s jaw twitched as he spoke through gritted teeth, "However we can help."

I nodded once, motioning to the six officers that helped arrest the Winchesters. "Those men of yours…post them at the exits."

"Yes sir,” the Sheriff said, begrudgingly.

I clicked on the walkie on my chest, "Reidy?"

"Yeah, Vic?"

"Bring them in. We’re as ready as we’re gonna be."

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

Ellie’s POV

The double doors to the Sheriff’s station parted as Sam, Dean and I shuffled forward, doing the best we could not to trip over the chains wrapped tightly around our ankles. I tried to keep up with their longer strides, the chain connecting us clinking loudly against the linoleum floor. As we rounded the corner, we were faced with a row of cubicles, two officers, the Sheriff, Agent Henriksen, and a secretary who watched us.

"Why all the sourpusses?" Dean remarked. I glanced at the secretary who wouldn’t meet our gaze. The plaque on her desk read Nancy Fitzgerald. She reached for the rosary next to her. One of the officers pushed us forward. "Hey! Watch the merchandise!”

Sam looked to the secretary as we passed her desk, “We’re not the ones you should be scared of, Nancy."

The officers led us around another corner where a large cell door was open. We shuffled inside, turning as the door slammed shut behind us. We all turned in three separate directions, forgetting the chain connected us when it suddenly ran out slack. We lurched forward. I caught myself against the cell bars, looking over my shoulder, “Oh, this is gonna piss me off.”

"Alright, alright. Sit?" Dean suggested. We all came to the singular bed, twisting around each other in an attempt to untangle ourselves but it was no use. We flopped down onto the thin cot, sighing. "How we gonna Houdini out of this one?"

"Good question,” Sam said, rubbing at the raw skin around his wrists from the cuffs.

I leaned against the cinderblock wall behind me, trying to get some air after having been shoulder to shoulder with Sam and Dean for the hour ride over here. I glanced out of the cell where I could hear Henriksen on the phone. I narrowed my eyes as I strained to listen. “He’s saying something about a helicopter.”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Yeah, they’re not taking any chances this time.”

It didn’t take long before Henriksen found his way to our cell, resting his hands around the bars. We watched him in silence. "You know what I’m trying to decide?"

"I don’t know. What? Whether Cialis will help you with your little condition?" Dean quipped.

Henriksen ignored him. "What to have for dinner tonight. Steak or lobster, what the hell, surf and turf. I got a lot to celebrate. I mean, after all, seeing you three in chains…"

"You kinky son of a bitch. We don’t swing that way,” Dean smirked. "You know, I wouldn’t bust out the melted butter just yet. Couldn’t catch us at the bank, couldn’t keep us in that jail..."

Henriksen nodded, "You’re right. Screwed up. I underestimated you. I didn’t count on you being that smart…but now I’m ready."

"Yeah, ready to lose us again?" Sam asked, glaring at the agent.

"Ready like a court order to keep you in a Supermaximum prison in Nevada 'til trial. Ready like isolation in a soundproof, windowless cell, so small that, between you and me…is probably unconstitutional,” he threatened. I had a feeling he wasn’t bluffing. “How’s that for ready? Take a good look at one another because you three will never see each other again.”

I could tell Dean was nervous although he would never show it outright. Henriksen clicked his tongue, "Aw. Where’s that smug smile, Dean? I wanna see it."

I scoffed, shaking my head. I couldn’t believe this was happening. "You got the wrong people."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot. You fight monsters. Sorry, Ellie. Truth is, your daddy brainwashed you with all that devil talk and no doubt touched you in a bad place. That’s all. That’s reality."

I sat up, bearing my eyes into his skull. Sam and Dean straightened up, too. I clenched my fists, feeling them cut into the metal of the cuffs. "Why don’t you shut your fucking mouth?"

"Well, guess what? Life sucks, get a helmet ‘cause everybody’s got a sob story. But not everybody becomes a killer,” he said. The whirring sound of helicopter blades filled the room. We looked up to the small window at the top of the cell. Henriksen smirked. “And now I have three less to worry about…Mm. It’s surf and turf time."

Henriksen sauntered away from the cell, laughing. I almost expected him to start skipping. I blew out a breath, letting my head hang before looking to the two of them.

“Either of you bring your parachutes? Because that’s the only way I think we’re getting out of this one.” I stood from the cot, crossing the length of the small cell, feeling the restraint of the chains on my ankles. “What’s the plan?”

Sam shook his head, “I’ve got nothing.”

I ran my tongue over the edge of my teeth. “Only a few months left and I’ll be spending them in prison. Hey, but maybe I’ll be able to skip out on the electric chair.”

Sam and Dean glanced sideways at each other. I narrowed my eyes at them when footsteps rounded the corner. The door leading out to the office space was shut behind them, followed by a deep voice, "Sam, Dean, and Ellie Winchester.” The man stopped in front of the cell, hands on his hips as he surveyed us. “I’m Deputy Director Steven Groves. This is a pleasure."

"Well, glad one of us feels that way,” Dean muttered.

"I’ve been waiting a long time for you three to come out of the woodwork.” Then, Groves pulled a gun seemingly out of nowhere and slid it through the bars of the cell and fired round after round. I felt the first bullet before I saw it, pain exploding up my thigh as I dropped to the cell floor, scurrying backward away from the gun. I nearly screamed in pain as my ankle caught on the tension of the chain and forced the bottom half of my leg away from the bullet in my thigh. Blood seeped through my fingers as I held the wound. Sam and Dean were instantly on their feet, yanking Groves’ arm into the cell in an attempt to disarm him. The rounds continued to fire off, hitting the cinderblock behind us. I ducked my head as chunks of the wall exploded.

Through the commotion I could hear Sam start reciting an exorcism, making Groves’ head thrash back and forth. I moved my arm away from my face, watching as the agent’s eyes pooled to black. "Sorry, kids. I've gotta cut this short. It’s gonna be a long night."

The black smoke flew from the man’s mouth and up out of the building through the air vents above us. I struggled to my feet, pulling myself up with the support of the bars. The agent dropped to the ground on his back. Our luck was increasingly getting worse when the Sheriff and Henriksen burst through the sliding door, guns drawn and yelling at Sam, "Alright, put the gun down!"

"Wait. Okay. Wait!” Sam said frantically, holding the gun out on flat palms.

"He shot him!" The sheriff shouted, pointing his gun at Sam.

"He didn’t shoot him,“ Dean shouted back, eyes wild as he looked from the cops to Sam.

"Get on your knees, now!" Henriksen yelled.

Sam dropped the gun to the ground, passing it under the cell door as we dropped to our knees. My leg screamed in pain around the bullet still lodged inside. Without my hand to hold the wound it bled freely, coating my jeans and dripping onto the cement floor in a puddle. We put our hands in the air. I felt my blood roll in rivulets down my palm to my arm and under the sleeve of my jacket.

“Okay, okay, okay. Don’t shoot. Please. Look. Here. Here,” Sam said quickly. “We didn’t shoot him. Check the body. There’s no blood. We did not kill him!”

Henriksen’s partner, Agent Reidy kneeled down next to Groves’ body, looking for any visible gunshot wounds but of course, there weren’t any. "Vic, there’s no bullet wound."

"He’s probably been dead for months,” Dean said, glancing back at me and down to the blood pluming over my jeans.

"What did you do to him?" Henriksen demanded.

"We didn’t do anything.”

"Talk or I shoot."

"You won’t believe us,” I said, feeling dizzy already. I held onto the bar next to me. "He was possessed."

Henriksen scoffed, still holding his gun out at us. "Possessed? Right. Fire up the chopper! We’re taking them out of here now."

"Yeah! Do that!" Dean shouted.

Reidy brought his walkie to his mouth, "Bill? Bill, are you there?"

Only static came through the walkie. Reidy stood from where he was beside Groves and left the room. Henriksen and the Sheriff kept their weapons on us until Reidy’s voice came over the walkie again, "They’re dead. I think they’re all dead-” An ear-splitting explosion came from outside, a flash of orange light filled the room.

“What the hell was that?!” Henriksen yelled, dropping his gun as he tried to get hold of his partner. “Reidy? Reidy?!"

In an instant, Henriksen and the Sheriff ran from the room and chaos erupted. Sam and Dean rose to their feet. Sam came quickly around to me, helping me to my feet and to the bed. I sat back against the wall, huffing as I heaved my leg up. Dean shed his jacket and slid it under my thigh, bringing it up to tie just above the wound. He crossed the sleeves, glanced at me in apology before quickly tightening it around my thigh. More blood spilled out, warming the rest of my skin. I groaned, banging my head against the wall behind me.

“Sorry,” Dean apologized as he knotted the sleeves again. A makeshift tourniquet. The dim lights above us flickered before completely blinking out, swimming us in darkness.

“That can’t be good,” Sam said. Whatever was trying to get in wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Shouting continued out in the front of the station. They were all in full panic mode until Henriksen shouted something at them, instantly quieting the room.

"What’s the plan?” A voice said suddenly, appearing at the cell door. Henriksen. “Kill everyone in the station, bust you three out?"

Dean looked over his shoulder at him, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I’m talking about your psycho friends. I’m talking about a blood bath!"

"Okay, I promise you – whoever’s out there? They're not here to help us."

"Look, you gotta believe us. Everyone here is in terrible danger,” Sam tried. "Why don’t you let us out of here so we can save your asses?"

"From what?” Henriksen asked but stopped himself, shaking his head in frustration. “You gonna say 'demons'? Don’t you dare say 'demons'. Let me tell you something. You should be a lot more scared of me."

We watched as Henriksen rounded the corner again. Sam turned back to me, “How’s the leg?”

"It’s awesome,” I said through gritted teeth. “Any bright ideas?"

Dean looked around the cell as if an answer were hidden somewhere around our heads when he paused, nodding across the cell toward a figure who was seemingly spying on us. It was Nancy, the secretary.

Sam stood from the bed, gesturing toward her, "Hey, please. Please. We need your help. It’s Nancy, right?” The woman nodded. She had to be in her mid twenties but looked like a scared child. “Nancy, my sister’s been shot. She’s…she’s bleeding really bad. You think maybe you could get us a towel? Please?”

Nancy hesitated, not moving from behind the wall. Dean stood beside Sam, lowering his voice into a softer tone, “Look at us. We’re not the bad guys. I swear."

Nancy contemplated it before turning away. I sighed, "Nice try." I looked back down at my leg, using part of Dean’s jacket to press down on it, soaking up the blood. When I looked back up, Nancy had reappeared, towel in hand.

Sam stepped forward as Nancy took a tentative step toward him. His hands were held up non-threateningly. "Thank you."

Nancy came closer, smiling softly as she slowly passed the towel through the bars. Sam quickly grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her body against the cell. She screamed, an officer sprinting in behind her, shotgun at the ready.

"Let her go! Let her go!"

Sam quickly let go of her. I sat up straighter, watching with wide eyes. The officer looked behind at Nancy who had rushed toward the exit, "You okay, Nance?” She nodded quickly. The officer looked back at Sam, the shotgun still trained on him. “Try something again, get shot. And not in the leg."

The officer backed out of the room, taking Nancy with him. Dean slapped Sam on the arm. "What the hell was that?" Sam turned to us, holding up Nancy’s beaded rosary.

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

It felt like hours as we sat in our cell, waiting for something to happen so Henriksen would have no choice but to let us out.

"We’re like sitting ducks in here,” Sam muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, I know,” Dean said. “Would it kill these cops to bring us a snack?!"

I turned the towel over to a dry spot, worried about how much blood I was losing. "How many you figure are out there?"

"Don’t know. But however many there are, they could be possessing anyone. Anyone could just walk right in,” Sam pointed out.

"It's kind of wild, right? I mean it’s like they’re coming for us. They’ve never done that before. It’s like we got a contract on us,” Dean said before smirking at us. “Think it’s because we’re so awesome? I think it’s ‘cause we’re so awesome."

He continued to smile at us but dropped it as Sam and I stared back, unamused. The sound of footsteps made us turn to the hallway where the Sheriff came to a stop outside the cell, unclipping a key ring from his belt. "Well, howdy there, Sheriff."

He ignored Dean as he unlocked the cell, sliding the door open. The three of us stood. "Uh, Sheriff?"

"It’s time to go, kids."

"Um…you know what? We’re – we're just comfy right here. But thank you,” I said. We took a step back as the Sheriff came deeper into the cell.

"What do you think you’re doing?" Henriksen shouted.

The Sheriff turned to him, "We’re not just gonna sit around here and wait to die. We’re gonna make a run for it."

"It’s safer here."

"There’s a SWAT facility in Boulder."

"We’re not going anywhere!”

"The hell we’re not-"

Henriksen raised his gun and blew the Sheriffs head off, making him crumple to the floor. Sam and Dean tackled Henriksen, effectively knocking the gun from his hands. Sam grabbed him under one arm and Dean grabbed the other, dropping him to the ground in front of the toilet in the corner of the cell. I quickly scooped the fallen gun into my hand as the rest of the officers, and Nancy, crowded into the room.

"Stay back!" I shouted at them, gun aimed at the group. They all came to a halt. I looked over my shoulder to where Sam was reciting an exorcism, shoving Henriksen’s head deeper into the water we had blessed with Nancy's rosary.

Henriksen’s head came up from the water, sizzling as the demon inside him screamed. I frantically looked back to the group in front of me who looked horrified. "Hurry up!"

"It’s too late,” the demon inside Henriksen said. His eyes were pools of black. “I already called them. They’re coming."

Dean shoved his head back into the water as Sam recited the exorcism even faster. I gripped the gun, watching the officers ahead of me when Henriksen’s head flew backwards and the black smoke escaped his mouth. Nancy and the officers ducked low as they watched the smoke disappear through the air vents, just like the demon inside Groves had. Finally, Henriksen fell sideways onto the floor and all was quiet again. Sam and Dean fell backwards onto the floor, panting. It’s not easy trying to keep a demon that still for so long.

“Is he…is he dead?" Nancy whispered. It was the first we’d heard from her.

It didn’t take long before Henriksen began coughing, sitting straight up and looking around the room at us. "Henriksen! Is that you in there?"

Henriksen pulled himself onto the cot, his face soaked. He looked like he was in shock. He looked down at the man on the cell floor. "I…I shot the Sheriff."

"But you didn't shoot the deputy,” Dean cracked, unable to hide his smile. Sam and I shot him a look.

"Five minutes ago, I was fine, and then…"

"Let me guess,” I said. Henriksen’s eyes flicked to mine. “Some nasty black smoke jammed itself down your throat? You were possessed."

He looked like he was weighing whether or not to believe me. "Possessed, like…possessed?"

"That’s what it feels like. Now you know,” I said, reluctantly handing him his gun back. I rested back against the bars.

"I owe the biggest ‘I told you so’ ever,” Dean said.

Henriksen didn’t look like putting up a fight. He looked to one of the officers behind him. "Officer Amici. Keys.” Officer Amici handed them over and Henriksen made quick work of freeing us. "Alright, so how do we survive?"

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

While Sam spray-painted devil’s traps in front of every door in the station and Dean looked over a map of the building, I sat pant-less in a cubicle with my leg propped up on a chair as I dug around for the bullet in my leg. Officer Amici offered to pin up a blanket to give me some privacy to which I gratefully accepted. I bit down on one of the new towels Nancy brought me until my tweezers found the hard metal. I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands trembling as I pulled it free, holding it up under the moonlight. I panted, dropping it into the trashcan next to me.

“Everything okay in there?” Sam called from the other side of the blanket.

I immediately got started on my stitches so I didn’t lose anymore blood. I spit the towel out of my mouth and onto the floor. “Almost done.”

I heard Henriksen and Amici return from the back of the station. I peeked around the blanket, watching as they dropped armfuls of guns onto the table.

"Well, that’s nice. It’s not gonna do much good,” Dean said.

Amici furrowed his brows, gesturing to the weapons. “We got an arsenal here."

"You don’t poke a bear with BB gun. That’s just gonna make them mad."

Henriksen put his hands on his hips. "What do you need?"

"Salt. Lots and lots of salt,” Dean said. There was a beat of silence.

"Salt?"

"What, is there an echo in here?"

"There’s road salt in the storeroom,” Nancy said this time.

"Perfect. Perfect. We need salt at every window and every door."

I could hear two sets of feet leaving the room. I squinted in the dark, piercing the needle through my skin again. One stitch left. I quickly finished the last suture, tying the end of it into a knot. I let out a shaky breath, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm. I pulled my jeans back on, wincing as the denim dragged across the fresh stitches.

I pulled the blanket down, limping to the table where Dean was standing next to Nancy, the two of them examining the blueprint of the building in front of them.

"Hey," Dean said, looking to me. He glanced down at my leg. "How you holding up?"

"Better," I said truthfully. I handed Nancy back the blanket and first aid kit. "You doing okay, Nancy?"

She tore her eyes from my bloody hands and looked up at me, nodding. "I'm okay. When I was little, I would come home from the church and start to talk about the Devil. And my parents would tell me to stop being so literal. I guess I showed them, huh?"

I smiled softly at this. Behind me, Amici and Henriksen came back into the room, bags of salt in hand.

"Hey, where's my car?" Dean asked Amici.

"Impound lot out back," he said before pausing. "Wait. You’re not going out there?"

"Yeah, I gotta get something out of my trunk."

"Your funeral," Amici said.

I grabbed Dean by his arm. "Be careful."

Dean nodded once as I watched him jog toward the back of the station toward the impound lot. I grabbed one of the large bags of salt, helping Amici, Henriksen, and Nancy salt every door in window in the place.

As we finished up, I came to a stop beside Sam who stood from the devil's trap he had just finished spraying on the floor. "Do you think it'll be enough?"

Sam looked unsure. "It'll have to be."

The ground beneath our feet suddenly began to rumble, the streetlights outside flickering wildly. The back door Dean had left through just minutes ago was thrown open. He ran through it, full duffle bag slung over his shoulder, shouting, "They’re coming! Hurry!"

We all congregated into the offices. We could see the plume of black demonic smoke encircling the police station, blocking out every inch of light from the outside. The rumbling continued, shaking the floor beneath our feet. Tables were shaking, files and papers flying off of surfaces, coffee mugs shattering on the floor, and then suddenly, it was over. The smoke rolled away from the windows, the shaking stopped. My eyes darted over the windows, knowing that was just the beginning.

"Everybody okay?" Sam called out.

Henriksen slowly stood. “Define ‘okay’.”

Dean rifled through his duffle bag, pulling out a ziplock that contained necklaces made from dollar store yarn and an anti-possession amulet hanging off of it. He passed them out to Amici, Nancy and Henriksen. "Alright, everybody needs to put these on. They’ll keep you from being possessed."

"What about you guys?" Nancy asked as she slid hers over her head.

Sam and Dean pulled down the collars of their shirts to reveal the symbol we'd had tattooed. I rolled my eyes, pulling my collar down, too.

"Smart," Henriksen said. "How long you had those?"

I let go of my shirt. "Not long enough."

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

I'd never felt more useless than sitting inside that station with no solid plan on how we were going to get these people to safety.

"Hey, that’s Jenna Rubner," Nancy said as she looked out the window to the growing group of demons outside. The woman stepped forward, her eyes black as coal.

"That’s not Jenna anymore," I said. It was important for her to know that upfront.

Nancy looked to me, "That’s where all that black demon smoke went?"

"Looks like."

There was a beat of silence before Henriksen spoke. He and Dean were sitting around a table, filling shotgun shells with the rock salt and loading them into the guns. "Shotgun shells full of salt."

"Whatever works," Dean said, pumping the gun.

"Fighting off monsters with condiments," Henriksen mumbled under his breath. "So. Turns out demons are real."

"FYI, ghosts are real too. So are werewolves, vampires, changelings, evil clowns that eat people," Sam listed.

Henriksen, to his own credit, was taking this news remarkably well. "Okay then."

"If it makes you feel better, Bigfoot’s a hoax."

"It doesn’t," he said. "How many demons?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, "Total? No clue. A lot."

Another beat of silence passed. Henriksen placed the shotgun on the bench beside him. "You know what my job is?"

"You mean besides locking up the good guys? I have no idea," I said.

"My job is boring, it’s frustrating. You work three years for one break, and then maybe you can save...a few people. Maybe. That’s the payoff. I’ve been busting my ass for fifteen years to nail a handful of guys and all this while, there’s something off in the corner so big. So yeah… sign me up for that big, frosty mug of wasting my damn life."

Dean watched him. "You didn't know."

"Now I do," Henriksen countered. "What’s out there? Can you guys beat it? Can you win?"

I wish I could confidently say we could. I looked to Sam, and then to Dean. "Honestly? I think the world’s gonna end bloody. But it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t fight. We do have choices. I choose to go down swingin’."

Henriksen nodded, "Plus you got nothing to go home to but each other."

Dean shrugged, "Yeah. What about you? You rockin’ the white picket fence?"

"Mmm-hmm. Empty apartment, string of angry ex-wives. I’m right where you are."

Dean raised his eyebrows at the irony of it all. "Imagine that."

The sound of shattering glass made the four of us look up toward one of the back offices. We raced toward the sound, rounding into the room. The window was shattered from the outside, glass littering the floor. But, that wasn't the only thing. I limped in behind them, side-stepping Sam. Henriksen held up his shotgun. "How do we kill her?"

"We don’t," Sam said, pushing Henriksen's gun down.

Henriksen looked at him, confused, "She’s a demon."

"She’s here to help us."

Ruby stood to her full height, her chest rising and falling heavily. Glass littered her hair, her face was bleeding. I glanced at the window, noticing the broken salt line. I groaned, looking to Dean who was just as annoyed to see Ruby as I was. We couldn't seem to shake her.

"Are you gonna let me out?" She asked Sam, referring to the devil's trap she had landed in. Sam leaned down, using the blade of his knife to scratch a line through the paint.

"And they say chivalry’s dead," she said as she brushed the glass from her hair and stepped out of the circle. "Does anyone have a breath mint? Some guts splattered in my mouth while I was killing my way in here." She brushed past us as she left the room, leaning against one of the desks.

"How many are out there?" Dean asked as we all followed her.

"Thirty at least. That’s so far."

"Oh, good. Thirty. Thirty hit men all gunning for us," I said. "Who sent them?"

Ruby narrowed her eyes, turning to look at Sam. "You didn’t tell them?" Dean and I furrowed our eyebrows, throwing Sam a questioning look. "Oh, I’m surprised."

"Tell us what?" Dean pressed, looking a Sam who was definitely guilty of something.

"Oh, don't act like he's the only one keeping secrets, Dean," Ruby scolded. I looked to Dean this time who clenched his jaw. My eyes bounced between him and Sam, suddenly feeling like an outsider.

"There’s a big new up and comer," Ruby said. "Real pied piper."

"Who is he?"

"Not he. Her," Ruby corrected. "Her name is Lilith, and she really, really wants Sam’s intestines on a stick. ‘Cause she sees him as competition."

I looked to Sam who hadn't said a word. "You knew about this?" I threw a look over my shoulder to Dean. "And what the hell are you not telling us?"

It was a momentary glance, one that I may have missed if I hadn't been paying attention. Dean's eyes flicked to Sam's before quickly coming back to mine. I looked over my shoulder to Sam. I realized it wasn't what Dean hadn't told Sam and I, it's what they were both keeping from me.

"How about the three of you talk about this later," Ruby said. My eyes lingered on the two of them. "We’ll need the Colt. Where’s the Colt?"

I tore my eyes from Dean's. "It got stolen."

Ruby stood up from the desk, a stunned look on her face. "I’m sorry. I must have blood in my ear. I thought I just heard you say that you were stupid enough to let the Colt get grabbed out of your thick, clumsy, idiotic hands!" She scoffed. "Fantastic. This is just peachy…"

"Ruby…"

"Shut up!" She yelled at Sam. She took two deep breaths. When she spoke again, her voice was much lower. "Fine. Since I don’t see that there’s another option...there’s one other way I know how to get you out of here alive."

"What’s that?" Dean asked.

"I know a spell. It’ll vaporize every demon in a one-mile radius. Myself included. So, you let the Colt out of your sight and now I have to die. So next time, be more careful," she scolded. "How’s that for a dying wish?"

"What do we need to do?" Dean asked. I couldn't keep my mind from racing as I looked at him or Sam. I wanted to pry them for the truth but knew it wasn't the time.

Ruby leaned back against the desk again. "Aww…you can’t do anything. This spell is very specific. It calls for a person of virtue."

Dean raised his arms, "I got virtue."

"Nice try. You’re not a virgin."

Dean chuckled humorlessly, "Nobody’s a virgin." Ruby's eyes slowly made her way behind Dean to where Nancy stood against the wall, her arms crossed tight over her chest. Dean followed her gaze and wrinkled his eyebrows. "No. No way. You’re kidding me, r–. You’re…"

"What? It’s a choice, okay?" Nancy said defensively, not meeting anyone's surprised looks.

Dean raised his eyebrows in genuine shock. "So, y-you’ve never…not even once? I mean not even – Wow."

"So, this spell," Nancy started, changing the subject. "What can I do?"

Ruby sauntered toward her. "You can hold still...while I cut your heart out of your chest."

"What?-" Nancy breathed out.

"Are you crazy?" I said, eyes wide.

"I’m offering a solution."

"You’re offering to kill somebody!”

Ruby turned to me, "And what do you think’s gonna happen to this girl when the demons get in?"

"We’re gonna protect her. That’s what," Henriksen chimed in.

"Excuse me," Nancy said in a quite voice.

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Very noble."

"Ex– excuse me."

"You’re all gonna die! Look. This is the only way."

Dean shook his head, "There’s no way that you’re gonna—"

"Would everybody please shut up?!" Nancy shouted, the room falling into silence. "All the people out there…will it save them?"

"It’ll blow the demons out of their bodies. So if their bodies are okay...yeah," Ruby confirmed.

Nancy thought about it for only a second, "I’ll do it."

"Hell no," Henriksen interjected.

"All my friends are out there."

"We don't sacrifice people! We do that, we’re no better than them," Henriksen said. I glanced over my shoulder at him. I never thought I'd see the day where we saw eye to eye.

"We don’t have a choice," Ruby countered.

"Yeah, well, your choice is not a choice," I said.

Ruby looked across the room to the one person who hadn't spoken up yet. "Sam, you know I’m right."

"Sam?" I said, turning to him, ready for him to jump in at any second to save this girl from an unnecessarily gruesome end. However, Sam remained silent as if he were actually contemplating it. Anger and confusion boiled in my chest. "What the hell is going on? Sam, tell her!"

"It’s my decision," Nancy said.

Ruby smirked. "Damn straight, cherry pie."

"Stop! Stop! Nobody kill any virgins," Dean shouted. "Sam, I need to talk to you."

I followed behind them, limping quickly to keep up. Dean turned in the hallway, looking at him. "Please tell me you’re not actually considering this. We’re talking about holding down a girl and cutting out her heart."

"And we’re also talking about thirty people out there, Dean. Innocent people who are all gonna die, along with everyone in here."

I couldn't push away the memory of Yellow-Eyes' words in my head. What if what you brought back is not 100%, pure, Sam? "It doesn’t mean that we throw away the rule book and stop acting like humans! I’m not gonna let that demon kill some nice, sweet, innocent girl, who hasn’t even been laid." My chest was rising and falling quickly. "I mean, look, if that’s how you win wars, then I don’t want to win."

Sam looked to Dean as if for help to win this non-existent argument. Dean continued to watch Sam. "She's right. Nobody else, except those demons outside, are dying tonight."

Sam clenched his jaw. "Then what? What do we do?"

I opened and closed my mouth. It was a plan I hadn't exactly completely thought through, but it was the only one I kept coming back to. "I got a plan. I’m not saying it's a good one. I’m not even saying that it’ll work. But it sure as hell beats killing a virgin."

"What’s the plan?" Dean asked.

I wasn't sure if it was my deal hanging over my head, or the desperation to not have to rip out a girl's heart. I knew the plan was reckless, yet I couldn't find it in me to care. "Open the doors, let them all in, and we fight."

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

"Get the equipment to work?" Dean asked as Sam came back into the room after he'd set up our quickly thrown together trap.

"Yeah."

"So?" I prodded.

"So this is insane," Sam muttered under his breath.

"You win 'understatement of the year'," Ruby said.

"Look, I get it, you think—"

"I don’t think…I know it’s not gonna work," she retorted, cutting Dean off. "So long, Winchesters."

Sam watched her. "So you’re just gonna leave?"

Ruby turned back abruptly. "Hey. I was gonna kill myself to help you win. I’m not gonna stand here and watch you lose. And I’m disappointed because I tried. I really did, but clearly I bet on the wrong horse." I glanced at Sam who was watching her with regret. "Do you mind letting me out?"

Sam followed Ruby as he led her to the front doors, breaking the salt line and scratching the devil's trap open. I looked to the rest of the group, nodding to them. It was time.

We took to our designated locations, strapped with rounds of rock salt. I stood in front of the double doors leading out to the impound lot, waiting for the signal.

"All set?" I heard Dean call out.

"Yeah!" Sam called, followed by Amici and Henriksen.

"Ready!" I called. I leaned down, using my blade to scratch a line out of the trap before using my foot to wipe the salt line away. I swung the doors open, throwing down the door stop. I sighed, glancing around the currently empty back alley. "Let’s do this."

I stepped back, my hands gripping the shotgun. It felt like forever before the first shot rang out through the station and then they kept on coming. I looked over my shoulder and when I looked back, two were already swarming the door ahead of me. I shot at both of them, knocking them backward and onto the ground. I forgot how goddamn fast demons were.

Another one sprinted into the hallway, I stumbled backward, shooting that one down too. Two more followed suit and then a whole herd of them. My heart sank, hearing the chaos already ensuing in the station behind me. We’re outnumbered, horribly outnumbered. I was able to shoot three of them down when my gun suddenly jammed. My eyes widened as the swarm of them got larger as they ran inside. One demon caught my eye, a burly man who ran straight at me, knocking the wind out of me as he tackled me to the floor. I gasped as he brought the shotgun up under my neck, pressing down hard and cutting off my airways. I groaned, trying to push against him but he was so much stronger than I was. I thought for sure he was going to kill me right there when a loud shot rang out and the man's body fell limp over me. I quickly pushed the demon off of me, coughing as I struggled to my feet. I looked at the end of the hall where Nancy stood, shotgun shaking in her hands.

"Thanks," I panted. She was obviously shaken. I took the gun from her. She was supposed to be outside, salting the doors to make sure no demon could escape. I lead her out to the alley, shoving the salt into her hands. "Trust me, it's safer out here. Go!"

She nodded quickly as I shut the door on her. Demons were now freely flowing into the station through the back door. From the looks of it, it seemed like none of us were able to control the flow of them. I ran as fast as I could toward the middle of the station where numerous fights had broken out. Dean had just blown away a demon coming straight for Henriksen, Amici shot down one rounding the corner from the cells. Sam was in a headlock of one. I quickly raised the gun, pumping the demon full of rock salt straight to the head. Sam stumbled forward, scooping up his gun and began shooting at surrounding targets.

I turned in a circle, shooting as many of them as I could. I felt at my chest where my strap of extra ammo was attached. I had been so mindlessly shooting before realizing I was completely out as a demon slid to a stop in front of me, smirking. I threw the gun aside, pulling out my holy water. I flung it at him, making his skin sizzle. It wouldn't kill him, but it would buy me some time. I looked around, realizing the rest of them were in the same boat I was.

The room suddenly became eerily quiet. I looked to my right where Sam and Dean stood. We were surrounded by demons. One of them in the back, the one Nancy had identified as once being Jenna Rupbner, stood. The demons parted, letting her through as she stopped in front of us. Quickly, she raised her hand, sending Sam, Dean and I flying through the air and connecting harshly with the brick wall behind us with a loud thud. The pressure on my chest holding me to the wall felt like it was going to break every bone in my body. I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut. I swore I could hear the brick crack behind me.

"Henriksen, now!" Dean shouted. Instantly, Sam's voice came over the station's loudspeakers. He was reciting an exorcism.

The demons instantly looked up in horror, grabbing at their ears as they screamed in pain as the tape continued. We watched as they scrambled, running to any window or door in an attempt to escape but it was no use. As the taped neared its end, black smoke filled the small station and one by one, the bodies fell to the floor. Still being pinned to the wall, we had no choice but to watch as the dark smoke cloud spun quickly above us, brief flashes of purple light like lightening filled the room. Suddenly, the smoke became orange, bursting in a ball of light as the tape ended. I turned my face away as best I could, only opening my eyes when the room fell into silence. Instantly, Sam, Dean and I dropped to the floor in a heap. I groaned, wincing at the pain. We slowly climbed to our feet as Henriksen came into the room, beat up, but alive.

Then, the electricity whirred back to life, illuminating the people on the ground that'd been possessed. They slowly began to stir, sitting upright. I let out a breath of relief.

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

Nancy and Amici led the civilians outside to where an ambulance was parked, its red lights flashing. Henriksen came up to us, handing in his shotgun. "I better call in. Hell of a story I won’t be telling."

"So what are you gonna tell them?" Sam asked.

"The least ridiculous lie I can come up with in the next five minutes."

Dean laughed lightly. "Good luck with that. Not to pressure you or anything, but what are you planning to do about us?"

"I’m gonna kill you," Henriksen said. My eyebrows shot up. "Sam, Dean, and Ellie Winchester were in the chopper when it caught on fire. Nothing left. Can’t even identify them with dental records. Rest in peace, guys."

Agent Henriksen held out his hand for each of us to shake. I took it in mine. "Thank you."

He nodded once. "Now get out of here."

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

While my body was ready to drop dead on my mattress, my mind was doing cartwheels as we entered the motel room. We'd barely set our things down before I turned to them, arms crossed. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Ellie," Dean began, shaking his head as he let his duffle bag drop to the floor at his feet.

"No," I dismissed quickly. Sam was sat at the end of our bed, watching us. "Now I don't know what the hell is going on here, with- with Sam keeping secrets between him and Ruby and- and both of you keeping secrets from me." I paused, my heart pounded. "I knew something was off. What the fuck is going on?"

A moment of silence passed before Dean spared a glance at Sam, a look I couldn’t quite place when suddenly, the scattered pieces of my brain clicked together in horrifying realization. My stomach plummeted into my shoes.

“What did you do?” I breathed out, narrowing my eyes at Dean. It was in the way he couldn’t meet my gaze, the way he opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words to say, did I find my answer.

I took another step toward him, anger, fear and pain bubbling in my chest as I suddenly reached out and pushed him backwards by his chest, unable to contain the gravity of the situation. “What did you do!?”

Dean stumbled back a few steps. Now he was finally looking me in the eyes. “It was my turn to do the saving for once.”

I recoiled at his words. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Demons weren’t too happy with me when they found out what I did…killing Yellow Eyes,” he said, his words intended to lighten the mood but his tone was strained. “I…I got you out of your deal, Ellie.”

I slowly began shaking my head in disbelief as my worst fears were confirmed. I felt tears welling up behind my eyes. “How could you?”

“What do you mean-”

“It’s supposed to be me,” I said, pointing to the middle of my chest. “I did this to save Sam not for someone else to take my place!”

“I did this to save you.”

“Maybe I didn’t want you to!” I shot back, my chest rising and falling quickly. But it was a lie. I didn’t want to die, but not if it meant someone else was going in my place and especially if it was him or Sam. I felt like I was spinning out of control, unable to grab onto anything.

I looked to Sam who was sitting quietly on the bed, his hands in his lap. I narrowed my eyes at him. Suddenly, every private conversation, every sideways glance between the two of them came rushing back. “Did you know about this?” He remained quiet. I knew the answer right then, but I wanted to hear it from him. “Did you know!?”

Sam looked up at me guiltily, “We were trying to protect you.”

I nodded in disbelief. I ran my hands through my hair, turning away from the two of them, willing my tears to stay at bay and failing miserably.

“I’m not sorry, Ellie,” Dean said. I turned back to him, willing my chin to stop trembling at the sight of my brother who had proven time and time again that he’d do absolutely anything for me. That didn’t change even now, in the face of death. “I couldn’t let you go…I couldn’t do it.”

“And now what?” I whispered. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

Dean’s eyes softened. He opened his mouth just as the door to the motel swung open followed by Ruby. "Turn on the news."

"Now is not the time, Ruby," Sam said. I quickly wiped my tears off my cheeks.

"You need to see this," she said, concern lacing her voice in a way I never heard before. I looked to her. She nodded toward the small tv set in the corner of the room. Sam hesitated before he reached behind him, grabbing the remote off the side table and switched it on. Immediately, the local news channel popped up.

BREAKING NEWS flashed across the screen. The reporter was standing in front of what looked like the scorched remains of a building. "The community is still reeling from the tragedy that happened just a few hours ago. Authorities believe a gas main ruptured causing the massive explosion that ripped apart the police station and claimed the lives of everyone inside." I turned toward the tv, realizing the crumbled building was the police station. My heart sank. "Among the deceased, at least six police officers and staff, including Sheriff Melvin Dodd, deputy Phil Amici, and secretary Nancy Fitzgerald as well as three FBI agents, identified as Steven Groves, Calvin Reidy, and Victor Henriksen."

Their pictures flashed across the screen. "Three fugitives in custody were also killed. We’ll continue to follow the story here at the scene, but for now, back to you, Jim." My grip tightened on my folded arms as Ruby clicked the TV off.

"Must have happened right after we left," Dean said.

"Considering the size of the blast," Ruby began, throwing each of us a small velvet pouch. "My money’s on Lilith."

I caught it before it could hit my chest. "What’s in these?"

"Something that’ll protect you. Throw Lilith off your trail…for the time being, at least."

"Thanks-" Sam began when Ruby cut him off.

"Don’t thank me. Lilith killed everyone. She slaughtered your precious little virgin, plus a half a dozen other people." She turned to me. "So after your big speech about humanity and war, turns out your plan? It was the one with the body count." I clenched my jaw, feeling a lump forming at the base of my throat again. “Do you know how to run a battle? You strike fast and you don’t leave any survivors. So no one can go running to tell the boss. So next time…we go with my plan."

Ruby gave us one last look before she turned and left the motel room, slamming the door shut behind her.

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

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*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.

[davilishuuu]

When your brother finally kisses his angel and you have to deal with them doing it all the f time

[lady-bizarre]

DUDE

[rositaslabyrinth]

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

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

request: can you write one where the sister is newly 21 so she’s at the bar but she’s without her brothers because she decided to stop there last minute just for a drink. She ends up getting drugged and she rushes to the bathroom and calls her brothers for help. The guy ends up breaking the door down but before anything happens really, Sam and Dean rush in and take care of it. The drug is tripping her out and she throws up outside too. I know you’ve already kind of done these stories but I thought a mix of them box could be good. I don’t know I thought this could be an interesting story.

A/N: Hi!! I hope you like this! Even if I’ve already written something I’ll continue to write more if you request them— I don’t mind! This was a great request. Requests are always open!

Warnings- drugs/roofies, attempted SA,

Sam and Dean Winchester x sister!Reader

The neon lights of the bar buzzed faintly above you, flickering like the last remnants of the day’s energy. It was crowded, loud, the kind of place where people went to forget. You weren’t here for that—just trying to blow off some steam after the last hunt. But now, as you sat on a barstool, sipping your drink and scanning the room, everything felt off. The glass in your hand was suddenly heavier than you remembered, and your vision, sharp a moment ago, now felt blurry around the edges.

Focus, you told yourself. You needed to focus. But it was like someone had turned the volume down on the world, muffling the voices around you, the laughter, the clinking of glasses. Everything was... distant.

The man who had been sitting next to you moments ago was now gone, his seat empty. You didn’t even remember him leaving. That’s when you started to feel it—the overwhelming sense that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t the alcohol; it wasn’t the atmosphere. It was the weird, creepy sensation crawling under your skin, like a thousand invisible fingers skittering across your arms. Your hands were trembling now, and you tried to steady them against the bar, but it was no use. You were suddenly very aware of how heavy your eyelids felt.

The bathroom.

You needed to get to the bathroom. Now.

You lurched from your seat, your legs unsteady beneath you, and staggered across the room. Everything seemed to sway around you, like the world had gone drunk on its own axis. The door to the bathroom felt miles away, but somehow, you made it, your palm flat against the cool metal as you pushed it open. Slamming the door shut behind you and locking it.

Inside, the bathroom was a small, dimly lit space. The fluorescent lights flickered above, casting an eerie glow on the tiles. Your back was against the door before you stumbled forward, gripping the sink tightly as the nausea hit, a wave of dizziness so intense it felt like the floor might just swallow you whole.

What the hell was happening?

The panic started to creep in, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. Your heart thudded in your chest like a drumbeat, faster and faster, and your hands were shaking so badly you could barely hold onto the edge of the sink.

You didn’t know what was happening to you, but you knew it wasn’t normal. You knew you weren’t just drunk. This felt like something else. Something... worse.

No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.

Your mind started to race—too many thoughts at once, too many wrong things. Your vision swam in and out of focus, the edges of the room blurring and then snapping back into clarity, only to fade again. A sick, icy dread curled in your stomach as you realized: you weren’t going to be able to get out of here. You were losing control.

No. No, I can’t pass out here. I can’t—

You fumbled for your phone in your pocket, your fingers slipping against the smooth screen. It took everything you had to unlock it and call the one number you knew could help you, the one person who could always save you.

Dean.

You dialed his number, your heart pounding so loud you thought it might drown out the ringtone. The phone rang once, twice, before it clicked, and his voice came through, sharp and worried.

“(Y/N), what’s up?” Dean’s voice was still upbeat, though you could tell he was trying to be casual, not knowing that everything inside of you was falling apart.

“D-Dean?” you stammered, struggling to get the words out as your chest tightened. You could feel the tears pricking at your eyes, your voice trembling, but you couldn’t help it. “I... I... I don’t know what’s happening. Something’s wrong, Dean... I... I think I’m... I don’t know... I think I’m gonna pass out or something.”

“Hey, hey, (Y/N), what’s going on? What’s happening?” Dean’s voice was sharp, laced with panic and urgency. “Where are you? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Dean… I don’t know, I don’t know,” you gasped, your words slurring and getting caught in your throat. The spinning was getting worse. The walls of the bathroom felt like they were closing in on you. “I... I’m not okay. I... I don’t know… I don’t know what’s happening, I... everything’s spinning.” The words tangled in your mouth, and you barely recognized your own voice.

“Where are you?” Dean demanded, his tone growing frantic. “What do you mean you’re not okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I’m... in the bar,” you stuttered, gasping for breath between every word. “I don’t... I don’t know what’s going on, I feel... I feel dizzy, Dean, I feel so weird. I’m... I’m so scared...”

Dean’s voice faltered for a second, then snapped back, tighter, sharper. “Sweetheart, what do you mean? Where are you in the bar? Who are you with? Did someone...”

Your heart lurched, the word hanging in the air like a physical weight, but you couldn’t process it fully. "I... I don’t know... I don’t know who I was with..." You gasped, fighting against the overwhelming fog. “I feel like... everything is moving too fast… like... like I’m not here… I don’t know… I don’t know, Dean... I don’t know what’s happening...”

“Did someone drug you?” Dean’s voice was suddenly sharp, his words clipped, the panic now hitting his voice with force. “(Y/N), did someone drug you??”

His words made your chest tighten, but something inside of you clicked, like a terrible realization. You weren’t just confused. You weren’t just dizzy. Something wasn’t right. You weren’t in control of your own body, your mind was slipping away from you, and the terror of that realization set your heart racing.

“Wh-what?" Your head felt like it was swimming in an endless fog, and you couldn’t make sense of the words he was saying. “No... No, I’ve never done drugs... What... what do you mean?” You stammered disoriented.

“Goddammit,” Dean cursed, his voice breaking as he pieced together the worst possible scenario. “Someone drugged you, slipped you something in your drink. I’m coming, I’m coming to get you, kid. Stay with me.” Dean’s heart broke as he heard the confusion in your voice. He knew, though. He knew exactly what was happening to you. Someone had slipped something into your drink, and you were paying the price for it now. It made his blood boil, but right now, all that mattered was getting to you, making sure you were safe.

“But… but I’ve never done drugs before.” You blinked at the confusion clouding your vision, trying to make sense of what was happening to you.

"I know you’ve never done drugs before, I know sweetheart, I know. Someone did this to you. Someone put something in your drink, okay? You’re gonna be alright though, I’m coming. Stay with me.” He said gently, trying to explain what was happening to you, though the pain in his voice was evident.

“I... no... I don’t... I don’t understand…Why...” You were gasping for breath, your words slurring more and more, the confusion twisting in your mind. “I don’t understand, Dean... I don’t know... What... what’s happening to me?”

Dean clenched the steering wheel in his car, his knuckles white as his heart pounded painfully in his chest. “Listen to me, sweetheart. You’re gonna be okay. I’m on my way. I need you to just stay calm for me, alright? We’re gonna get you out of there. Just stay with me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as the panic started to swell inside of you. You were slipping. You were fading. You could feel it, a terrible, unrelenting fog in your mind, and the thought of losing control—of passing out—sent a new wave of fear crashing into you.

“I... I don’t want to… I don’t want to pass out, Dean! Is… is someone going to hurt me.” You gasped, the words tumbling out in a frantic, terrified rush. Dean clenched his jaw knowing exactly why someone roofied you, but he couldn’t instill that fear in you. “Hey! No…No! No one’s going to hurt you. I’m coming to get you, I’m coming.” But your mind already connected the dots which spiraled you into a deeper panic. “What if... what if I can’t... what if someone comes in... I can’t... I can’t stop them… I can’t fight them, I... I’m not strong enough! What if—what if something happens to me?”

Dean’s heart cracked at the sound of your voice, so broken and terrified. He was practically yelling into the phone now, his voice rising with frustration, desperation, and worry. “(Y/N), listen to me. You’re locked in the bathroom, alright? No one can get to you. No one can hurt you. You just stay away from the door. You’re gonna be fine. I swear to God you’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m scared, Dean,” you whispered, so softly now that it barely made it through the receiver.

"I know, sweetheart," Dean’s voice cracked, like it was breaking apart at the seams. "I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Just stay with me. We’re almost there. Just hold on."

Your body was shutting down, your mind was swimming, and you couldn’t fight it anymore. You didn’t know if you could hold on, didn’t know if you could stay awake.

Everything was starting to fade.

You gasped again, your breath hitching. "I can't...

“I-I'm gonna-pass out, Dean."

“Stay awake, (Y/N). Don’t you dare let it pull you under,” Dean’s voice cracked as he gripped the steering wheel harder, driving faster, his own panic starting to bleed through.

Suddenly, you heard muffled sound in the background, a voice from the phone, sharper and more insistent. "Dean, give me the phone," Sam barked. "Give me the damn phone."

Dean grunted, clearly panicked, but he handed it over. Sam's voice cracked through the phone almost immediately, low and commanding, but so full of fear that you could hear it even through your confusion…

Sam immediately spoke into the phone, his voice soft and gentle, trying to ground you. “(Y/N), hey, it’s Sam. I’m here. Just... just breathe for me, okay?”

“Sam?” Your voice was thin, confused. “What’s happening? Why am I... What’s wrong with me?”

Sam’s heart sank hearing the confusion and panic in your voice. “You’re going to be okay. We’re coming to get you, okay? You’re gonna be alright. Just stay calm. I’m right here.”

You whimpered, your head spinning uncontrollably. “I’m so scared, Sammy... What if someone gets in? What if they hurt me? I don’t know what they want...” Your voice trailed off into another sob, and the fear that clenched your heart was almost suffocating.

Sam's voice softened, trying to soothe you as much as possible. “You’re safe, (Y/N), you’re locked in the bathroom. No one’s getting in. Okay? You just stay away from the door, alright? Don’t open it. Don’t even get near it. We’re almost there. Just stay with me. You’re safe.”

You could barely understand his words, the fog thickening, but you clung to them, trying to focus on the sound of his voice. The air was too thick, the silence too loud, and the weight in your chest was unbearable.

The sound of the door rattling suddenly shattered your fragile grasp on reality. The harsh knocking echoed through the room, sending your heart into overdrive.

“Sammy?” you whispered, barely able to speak. “Is that you? Is that you at the door?”

Sam’s stomach dropped at the sound. He could hear the panic in your voice, and he knew the door was no longer just a symbol of safety—it was a threat now.

“No, don’t open the door, (Y/N),” Sam yelled into the phone, his voice filled with panic. “Stay away from the door, alright? Don’t let anyone in!”

You could barely process his words, the terror drowning you. “It’s... it’s not you, Sammy... It’s not you... Someone’s trying to get in...”

The door rattled again, and this time, it sounded even more forceful. The fear was rising, thick and suffocating, like a cold hand closing around your throat. “No, no, no... I can’t... I can’t stop them...”

Sam shouted, his voice almost breaking, “we’re almost there, (Y/N), we’re coming!”

Another loud bang came at the door, the sound sharp and menacing, and your blood ran cold. Your eyes darted to the door, fear overtaking every inch of you.

“Stay on the phone!” Sam was shouting now, but the fear in your voice drowned out everything. “We’re coming, we’re almost there!”

Your body trembled violently, your knees buckling, and you fell against the wall as your thoughts scattered. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop the terror from overtaking you. You wanted to be brave, you wanted to fight, but you couldn’t.

“I can’t... I can’t...” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I’m with you, (Y/N),” Sam’s voice came through, shaky but full of determination. “We’re almost there. Just stay with me, alright? Just stay awake, stay alert.”

Your eyes were starting to close, the weight of exhaustion pressing on your eyelids. But you couldn't let it happen. You couldn’t.

The banging continued, louder now, but through it, you clung to Sam’s voice, the only thing grounding you. You were barely hanging on and as you whispered one last plea for them to hurry, the door rattled again, louder now, the metal handle shaking as whoever was on the other side tried again. It sounded like they were getting closer, breaking through the frame with each hit. They were coming in.

“NO!” You screamed, struggling to pull yourself up from the cold floor, your hands shaking as you tried to steady yourself. The room spun even harder, your body swaying, vision blurring.

Then, with a final crash, the door gave way. The lock snapped, and the door swung open with a jarring screech, revealing the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway. A stranger, tall and looming, his face partially obscured by shadows. His footsteps echoed loudly in the small, tiled room as he took a step forward, eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. The fear in your chest exploded into pure, raw terror.

“No, no, no!” you whimpered, backing up against the wall as he stepped closer, your breath coming in shallow, frantic gasps. “Please... please... don’t! Please...”

Your words slurred, each one harder to get out, as the drug in your system weighed you down. You could feel the darkness pressing in on the edges of your vision, your mind trying to shut off, but the terror was still there, an open wound in your chest. You tried to scream, tried to get up, but you were too weak.

“Shhh... It’s okay,” the man cooed, his voice a low, mocking whisper as he took another step forward, his eyes gleaming with a sick amusement. “You don’t need to be scared...“

The words hit you like a slap to the face. Your brain barely registered the cruelty of it as he approached, his shadow casting over you like a weight you couldn’t escape.

“No... No... please...” You begged, your voice barely above a whisper, your body trembling uncontrollably. Your hand flailed around the bathroom floor, searching for something, anything to defend yourself with, but your fingers couldn’t grip anything. Every time you tried to move, you felt weaker, your body refusing to obey your commands.

The man grinned, a cruel smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “No one’s going to save you, sweetheart. You’re mine now. Just let go, it’ll be over soon.”

You couldn’t breathe, your chest tight as the fear suffocated you. You could feel the blackness creeping in again, and you knew—if you let go, if you passed out... he would have you. You wouldn’t be able to defend yourself, to scream, to fight. Your limbs were too heavy, and all you could do was whimper.

“No! No, please!” You choked out, unable to move. The door had fallen open behind him, the sound of your brothers’ desperate voices rang through the air and with everything you had left, you screamed, as if your voice could somehow reach your brothers, stop him from getting any closer. But it was a weak cry, shaky and broken, too afraid to even believe it would be enough.

“Get the fuck off of her!”

Dean’s voice, filled with fury and rage, cut through the room like a sword.

In an instant, Dean was on him, shoving the man away from you with a brutal force that sent him stumbling backward. Your body, still weak and trembling from the drugs, barely reacted, but Dean's presence was enough to anchor you to the reality of the situation.

"I’ll fucking kill you!" Dean growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He charged, fists flying as the man tried to regain his balance. The sound of bones hitting flesh was unmistakable—loud, sickening, and filled with the fury that only Dean Winchester could channel when someone dared threaten his family.

Suddenly, Sam’s familiar face came into view, his expression tight with worry. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, his voice gentle but urgent, like he was trying to anchor you to the here and now. His hands, warm and steady, cradled your face, lifting it slightly so he could meet your gaze, his thumb lightly brushing over your skin as if to remind you he was there. His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of the haze that the drugs might’ve left behind, any sign that your focus was slipping away from him. "You're okay. You're safe, I promise. I’m right here with you, okay? We’ve got you. We won’t let anything happen to you."

His words were steady and warm, like a lifeline, but your body was betraying you. The drug had sunk deep into your system, and it was wreaking havoc in every muscle, every nerve, sending waves of strange sensations through you. Your chest tightened, and it felt like there was a weight pressing down on your lungs. You couldn’t breathe deep enough, and each shallow gasp only made it worse. Every breath you tried to take felt like it was being stolen from you. Your hands—your fingers—felt stiff and unresponsive, curling on their own, twitching with spasms.

“Sam...” you barely whispered, but your voice was weak, trembling, like it wasn’t your own. “I feel so weird…”

“I know, (Y/N), I know.” Sam said, his voice thick with emotion but full of that calm authority that only made you trust him more. His large hands were on your arms, trying to hold you steady, to remind you that you were here, you were real, you were safe. But your body wouldn’t stop jerking, twitching violently, like the drug was seizing control of your muscles. Your back arched involuntarily, and a choked sob bubbled in your throat.

The panic set in deeper. Your arms and legs felt like they belonged to someone else—heavy, uncooperative. You tried to move, but your body refused. The dizziness spun in your head, and the world around you was a blur. You felt like you were drowning in it. “Sam... Sam, I can’t...”

His grip tightened on you, anchoring you to him, and you could feel his breath close to your ear, his voice softer now but no less urgent. “Listen to me, (Y/N). I’m right here. I need you to stay with me. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. The drug... it’s coursing through you right now, your body’s trying to fight it, alright? Stay with me. Stay awake.”

His voice cracked with raw emotion, but it didn’t waver. He was so present, so solid in this moment, even as your body continued to react violently. You jerked again, the spasms making you gasp for air as you felt like your muscles were locking into place. You didn’t have control over your own body. The feeling of being completely out of control overwhelmed you. You could feel your head spinning, your vision blurring more with each second, and that constant pressure on your chest that made it harder and harder to stay conscious.

“Just breathe with me, (Y/N),” Sam said, his voice steady, but his hands shook slightly as they gripped you. His hand moved to your back, rubbing it slowly, trying to comfort you through the chaos, but your body was betraying you in every way imaginable. The drug was taking hold, seizing control of your senses, your thoughts—your every nerve. You could feel it as your heart raced, pounding violently in your chest, like it was trying to break free from your ribcage. Sweat was pouring down your face, your skin slick and clammy, and your limbs felt like they were no longer your own—jerking and twitching uncontrollably.

You wanted to scream, wanted to beg Sam to make it stop, but your mouth wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t obey, wouldn’t form the words. Your chest heaved with each shallow breath, but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t enough to pull you from the panic. Every time you tried to breathe, the air felt too thick, too far away. Your vision blurred, and the edges of the room warped and wavered.

And Sam… Sam could see it all in your eyes. The terror. He saw you struggling, saw the panic flashing in your gaze, and it crushed him. You could hear the sound of Sam’s voice rising, frustration and fear mixing in with his calm words. “What the hell did you give her?!” He suddenly screamed, his voice cutting through the room, filled with a ferocity that made you feel like it was cutting through the air itself.

He wasn’t just speaking to you anymore. The sound of his fury—his absolute protective rage—was directed at the man who had done this to you. You could feel it in the tension in his grip, in the way his hands clenched around you, holding you like you were the most important thing in the world.

But despite Sam’s rage, he never broke his focus on you. He didn’t leave you, not for a second. “Okay,” Sam said, taking a breath as if to calm himself. “Okay. I know you’re scared, I know. I need you to focus on me, alright?” Sam continued, his voice now a little softer again as his thumb stroked across your cheek, trying to soothe you through the convulsions rattling your body. “Your heart’s racing, I know. That’s the drug. That tightness in your chest? It’s normal right now. Your body’s in shock. It’s trying to fight the drug’s effects, but you’re going to be okay, trust me.”

The sensation of weightlessness was threatening to pull you under, and your body jerked again, making you gasp for air. But Sam was right there. His hands moved to your face, cupping your cheeks gently but with purpose, forcing you to look at him, to focus on him, despite how blurry everything seemed.

"Don’t you dare close your eyes, okay?"

Your chest felt like it was about to explode, the spasms were making you writhe in his arms, but Sam stayed with you—his voice still a tether in the madness, guiding you through each second. Even through his own anger, his pain, his desperation—he was there for you, unwavering.

The sound of Dean’s voice in the background seemed muffled now, lost in the whirlwind of sensations, but Sam’s presence was constant.

He didn’t wait for you to reply—didn’t need to. He could see the way you were struggling just to breathe, could see the fear and confusion in your eyes. You were scared, but you didn’t need words to tell him that. His voice didn’t falter once as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and helped you stand. Your legs were unsteady, like they weren’t yours anymore, but he held you up—held you close as he guided you toward the door.

“Come on, I’ve got you,” Sam murmured, his arm supporting you as you stumbled forward. The world outside was a blur, the lights of the bar flashing in your peripheral vision. Your body was shaking with each step, still fighting against the drug, but Sam was there. Always there.

As soon as the cold night air hit your skin, the nausea hit you like a freight train. Your stomach twisted violently, and before you could do anything, the pressure built up—too fast, too strong—and you dropped to your knees, your body convulsing with a wave of sickness.

“Let it out,” Sam said immediately, his voice firm but full of empathy, the knowledge of what was happening to you clear in every word. “It’s okay, just let it out, (Y/N). You’re okay. Your body’s fighting the drug. You’re fighting it, alright? Just breathe. Let it out. You’re gonna feel better. I promise.”

Your body lurched forward as you threw up, everything inside you coming up in violent waves. You felt weak—so weak—your hands barely able to hold yourself up as your body continued to heave. The dizziness was making everything spin, but Sam was right there, his hand on your back, steadying you. His voice was a constant hum in the background, soothing, telling you that it was okay, that you were okay.

“That’s it, just let it out,” Sam said again, his hand still pressing gently on your back, keeping you grounded, keeping you steady as you threw up, as your body trembled violently. He was talking to you like he knew exactly what you needed, guiding you through the worst of it. “You’re okay, you’re okay, just keep breathing. Your body’s doing what it needs to. You’re okay.”

You didn’t know how long it lasted, but your strength was drained, your energy zapped, and your body finally stopped heaving, leaving you weak and trembling on the cold pavement. You were on your hands and knees, and the nausea still clung to you, but Sam didn’t let go—not even for a second.

And just as you started to collapse, your body exhausted from everything, Sam’s hands were there. He caught you effortlessly, pulling you into his chest as you slumped, your head falling against his shoulder.

“I got you,” Sam whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re alright. You’re alright, (Y/N). I’ve got you.”

His arms wrapped around you, holding you up, keeping you from crumpling to the ground. You could feel his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, and even though you still felt weak, you weren’t alone.

“Breathe, just breathe,” he murmured, his voice soft now, a gentle comfort that you clung to. “You’re gonna make it through this. I’m right here. We’re gonna get you through it.” He kept you safe, kept you calm, as Dean took care of the man that attempted to do the worse to you.

His punches were swift and relentless, each one more vicious than the last. The man staggered back, but Dean wasn’t about to give him a chance to recover. With a final, savage swing, he sent the man crashing into the bathroom sink, the impact rattling the entire room.

Dean’s voice, sharp and full of anger as he finished dealing with the man who had dared to hurt you. “You don't even know how lucky you are that I don't have more time," he growled. "Stay down, or you won’t get up again." The stranger groaned, blood dripping from his busted lip, but he wasn’t getting back up—not for a while.

Dean didn’t even look at the man as he stepped over him, walking out of the bathroom and out of the bar. His face softened just a fraction as he saw you trembling in Sam’s arms, his voice turning gentle despite the fire still burning in his eyes. “(Y/N), hey... It’s Dean. We’re getting you out of here. Just hold on for me, alright?”

You could barely breathe, your body still too weak to function properly, but just hearing him calmed the chaos in your mind.

“Stay with us, okay? Stay with us, don’t fall asleep. We’re here. We won’t let anything happen to you.” He said as he rushed to open the car door while Sam held you up, but you could feel yourself slipping.

“No,” you whispered weakly, your hand gripping Sam’s jacket as you struggled to stay awake. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“We’re not leaving you,” Sam said, his voice steady and warm. “I’m right here, and so is Dean. We’re getting you to the car. Just breathe. You’re safe.”

The door slammed shut behind you as Sam climbed into the car, cradling your trembling form in his lap. Dean slid into the front seat, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he started the engine.

“You’re safe, (Y/N),” Sam murmured, wiping away the tears that stained your cheeks. “We’ve got you. We’re not letting go. Not ever.”

You were fading, the world slipping away as the last of your strength drained from you. But Sam was right there, holding you, comforting you.

“We’ve got you,” Dean added, his voice thick with emotion as he drove. “We’re not going anywhere.”

And even though you could barely hold on to consciousness, those words were enough. You weren't alone anymore. You had your brothers. And you would be safe.

[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

[unknowntoyou2205]

Stocking Filler

Info: Living on the road means no Christmas tree, but Dean makes sure his little sister has some of the Christmas magic.

Relationship: Winchester brothers x sister

Living on the road with an 8 year old was hard, but during the Christmas period it was harder for the brothers to keep their little sister lively. Seeing all the Christmas trees at each motel they went to, y/n always frowned when she seen the boxes that were underneath the tree. When they went to victims houses and see the piles of presents underneath the tree for the kids, Dean felt disheartened, knowing his sister couldn’t have that. But he wanted her to have some form of a normal childhood, so tried to do something special for her each year.

Y/n always stood admiring the Christmas lights that dotted the shops ceilings during Christmas time. She loved to press the buttons of each teddy bear or decoration she seen, much to the annoyance of her brothers. For an 8 year old she was very understanding when it came to their lives being very different to that of a normal family, but December she was always disappointed, knowing she couldn���t have the Christmas joy regular kids her age had.

“Sam, what is Christmas?” Y/n asked, looking up at her older brother innocently. Sam’s heart broke a little, knowing she wouldn’t get to experience the magic. “Well, Christmas is different for everyone. But for most of the world it’s a time for family and presents.” Sam spoke as he crouched down to his sister. “Why do they have a tree indoors?” Y/n asked, confused. “Well they place presents under the tree and then open them on Christmas day.” “Why don’t we have that?” “A tree in baby, no way.” Dean remarked, shaking his head rapidly at the thought. “No silly, presents.” Y/n giggled, and Dean and Sam looked at each other with sadness. “Our gift is each other, that we survived another year of hunting.” Dean smiled, crouching down beside Sam. “I like our present.” Y/n smiled widely, throwing her arms around her brothers necks. “Me too.” Sam sighed, patting his sisters back slightly.

Y/n pulled apart from the two older Winchesters before running down the aisle to where a large bear was dressed up as Santa and dancing. Sam watched her as she began wiggling with it with a laugh before looking to Dean who was moving away from him.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked his brother, frowning at him. “Getting her a selection box.” Dean stated, moving towards the chocolate section. “Your gonna make her hyper.” Sam called out. “No, I’m gonna give her Christmas memories.” “With a box of chocolates?” “Every kid loves them Sam.” Dean remarked, throwing his arms out before flipping him off.

True to Deans word, he got y/n a selection box, and she was over the moon to see the box cut out like a stocking . And true to Sams word, she became hyper on the chocolate, refusing to leave even one bar left. She winded up causing herself a sugar crash with all the giddiness she had, and Sam glared at Dean who avoided his sight.

“Told you she’d get hyper.” Sam snapped at his older brother. “Oh one day of her being hyper, the tragedy.” Dean spoke, acting scared, “let her live like a normal child for once Sammy, she doesn’t get that often.” “There are other things that could give her a normal childhood for a while.” Sam shot back. “Like the playground or something.” “It’s Christmas Sammy, you see her watching the presents under the trees and lights hung around. She doesn’t get that normal Christmas that every other child does, let her have this”  Dean spoke harshly, glancing in the rearview mirror to watch as y/n moved around in her seat to an uncomfortable position. “Who’s fault is that?” Sam snapped. “Don’t go there Sammy.” Dean shouted, only for Sam to look back when they heard whining, “Look I know you don’t agree with the way dad has her life, but we can make it a little better by giving her some aspects of a normal childhood alright.” Dean spoke softly, not wanting to wake their sister. “Right.” Sam sighed, leaning his head against the window.

---------

Case after case the Winchester’s rolled through each town, barely stopping for more than a few days, and soon it was Christmas eve. Dean had parked the impala at the top of the hill, and before Sam could remark about his choices the oldest brother leaned back to shake y/n who was covered in Sam’s jacket as she slept.

“What?” Y/n asked tiredly, not opening her eyes. “Come on, I want to show you something.” Dean spoke, moving to get out of the car. “What?” Y/n asked again, this time opening her eyes. “Yea what?” Sam asked, also moving to get out of the car. “I heard town folks talking about their annual firework display Christmas eve.” Dean explained to his brother before opening the back door and lifting y/n out of the car. “This is your way of giving her some form of Christmas.” Sam asked, confused as he grabbed his jacket. “Think positive Sammy.” Dean remarked, placing y/n on the hood of Baby before jumping on himself, Sam wrapping y/n in his coat once again.

The sibling trio remained silent as they overlooked the town below. Y/n leaned against Dean tiredly, and he wrapped an arm around her to keep her from falling. Seeing the crowds of people begin to gather down below, Dean nudged y/n to wake her up once again.

“Watch this y/n.” Dean spoke, leaning down to tuck some of the girls hair behind her ear. “Huh?” Y/n mumbled, confused on what was going on. Look.” Dean pointed to the sky as the display began.

Hearing the first bang, y/n quickly woke up and looked ahead with wide eyes. Sammy couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face, grabbing one of y/n’s little hands to squeeze them reassuringly. Dean jumped down from the impala to lean against it, keeping his arm around y/n’s waist. He looked at the young girl to see her watching amazement, and he smirked at himself. Y/n quickly grew accustomed to the bangs, and began to giggle as the colourful sparks lit up the sky. Sam shared a look with Dean, nodding in confirmation.

“They’re pretty.” Y/n remarked, reaching a hand out in front of her. “Yea they are.” Dean smiled, looking at his sister who’s eyes never left the sky. “Can we watch them again?” Y/n asked as the display finished, a light trace of smoke filling the air. “Maybe another time. It’s getting late.” Sam spoke, and y/n awed in disappointment. “Hey now, no sad face for tonight of all nights.” Dean spoke, placing a finger under y/n’s chin to lift it up. “We’ll see them again soon.” Sam pointed out, and y/n smiled at that. “Why don’t you go to sleep, we’ll be at our next spot soon.” Dean leaned down to kiss y/n’s head before picking her up. “Will you stay with me?” She asked, snuggling into Dean’s chest. “No way is Sam driving.” Dean spoke quickly, causing y/n to lean away from him. “I’ll stay with you y/n, don’t mind him.” Sam spoke, sliding into the back where y/n happily crawled in to snuggle with her brother. “Yea your gonna be so stiff.” Dean remarked, sniggering at the thought of Sam’s long legs going numb from the back. “I don’t care if it gets her to sleep.” Sam remarked back, rubbing y/n’s arm gently as she closed her eyes. “Don’t complain to me when your legs go numb.” Dean spoke before starting the engine. “You know for someone who went out of his way to give y/n some form of Christmas, your very sour when it comes to getting her to sleep in the car.”  Sam remarked. “I can’t hear you over the music.” Dean spoke, even though they both knew he could since it wasn’t that loud.

---

 Christmas morning, Dean and Sam sat at the table while y/n slept in. They were researching for their new case in town, and with libraries close for the holidays they only had their old laptops to work on. Dean looked over Sam’s shoulder when they heard movement, and soon a little face popped up from the pillows.

“Rise and shine sleepyhead.” Dean remarked, and y/n only groaned, turning away from them.

Sam didn’t turn around, waiting for the little one to come up to them. When he heard movement, he braced himself for impact, only to hear a gasp instead causing him to whip his head around in confusion, missing the smirk on Dean’s face.

“What’s up y/n?” Sam asked. “A socks one the floor.” Y/n replied, jumping off the bed. “That is where you threw them last night?” Sam spoke, confused. “Not my sock, a big sock, bigger than yours.” Y/n remarked, lifting up the sock with excitement. “What?” Sam asked, whipping his head to look at Dean who sat there with a smirk. “What you get y/n?” Dean called out, and y/n came running to them. “There’s something in it.” Y/n spoke excitedly, throwing the sock onto the table as she climbed onto Dean’s lap. “Damn right there is, it is Christmas after all.” Dean commented, and Sam chuckled in disbelief. “What you get y/n?” Sam asked, closing the laptops and moving them away to make room.

The brothers watched as y/n excitedly tipped over the sock, allowing the contents to fall out of it. Small toys, a bouncy ball and some coins landed on the table, and Dean moved y/n’s hair out of her face as she looked through the contents excitedly. Sam looked over y/n’s head at Dean, who just shrugged at him. Seeing a Christmas card at the bottom, Sam reached out to get it, before reading it and laughing.

“What?” Y/n asked innocently, reaching for the card. “I think this is for me and Dean y/n.” Sam spoke, moving his hand away from y/n. “It was in my stocking.” Y/n spoke sassily. “It isn’t exactly for your age.” Sam remarked, looking at Dean with a raised eye brow. “It was in the girls stocking Sam.” Dean spoke, smiling as he knew what was in it. “Merry Christmas you filthy animal. Out of all the cards you choose that.” Sam remarked, and Dean just smiled. “Well she is an animal.” Dean joked, tickling y/n’s sides causing her to squirm. “Merry Christmas y/n.” Sam spoke, deciding to ignore Dean’s antics. “IS this Christmas?” y/n asked, squinting her eyes. “This is our Christmas.” Dean spoke, leaning down to lean his head on y/n’s shoulder. “Merry Christmas Dean.” Y/n moved to wrap her arms around her oldest brother, “Merry Christmas Sammy.” She jumped over to Sam, who caught her before she fell. “Merry Christmas y/n.” Dean smiled, bouncing her new ball on the table.

[winniewritesstories]

Pilot | The (Mis)Adventures of Meg Winchester ii

Summary - the pilot but with Meg added! (She's 8)

Pairings/characters - Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Meg Winchester (OC), Jessica Moore, John Winchester (mentioned), Bobby Singer (mentioned)

Sam Winchester x little sister, Dean Winchester x little sister

Warnings - mentions of death and violence, spoilers for spn (obviously lol), that's it?

Language - English (British)

Word Count - 2,675

Notes - I'm NOT doing a series re-write but many of these will be/feature episodes, although there will be plenty that don't take place within an episode. Please let me know if you like!

Credits - @firefly-graphics for the dividers

Stanford University, 2005.

Dean stood in his brother’s apartment, face to face with him for the first time in over two years. Their not-so-happy reunion had been interrupted by Sam’s girlfriend, Jessica, whom Dean immediately decided was way out of his brother’s league (and he proceeded to hit on her).

Dean needed Sam with him on this. Dad was missing, and Dean didn’t know what to do. His only back up was a scrawny eight year old, and - much as he loved the kid - that wasn’t much help. He needed Sam.

“Dad hasn’t been home in a few days,” Dean said, choosing his words carefully in front of Sam’s civilian girlfriend.

“So he’s working overtime on the miller time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later,” Sam replied. He didn't see why this warranted Dean breaking in at midnight. Couldn't the man pick up a phone?

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but a clunk and a bang from the kitchen made both Winchester’s tense up. Then Dean sighed in resignation.

"You were supposed to wait in the car.” Dean called. Sam - who had been ready to tackle for the second time that night whomever had broken into his apartment - gave his brother a confused look. But his worry and confusion fell away when a small head of brown curls and bright green eyes poked around the kitchen door.

"I was lookin’ for Pop Tarts,” she said with a toothy grin. Her eyes moved from her eldest brother to the one she hadn’t seen in years. “Sammy!”

She'd grown, gotten taller, but she was still wiry and thin. As a baby, Meg had looked like Sam, but she was growing into a carbon copy of Dean, with his green eyes and spattering of freckles across her cheeks.

She moved at the speed of light, throwing herself into Sam's arms. He swung her off the floor so she could wrap her legs around him. She was bigger, but she was still small. She'll always be small to Sam.

Meg's arms went around her brother's neck and she held him tight for several seconds.

"I missed you!" she cried out, pulling back far enough to look at her brother.

"I missed you too, Scout," Sam replied affectionately, surprised at how easily the nickname slipped out. "You got tall."

Meg grinned, flashing a gap in her front teeth. "Almost as tall as you, I reckon." Sam chuckled. Meg then looked shyly to the girl standing by Sam, giving her a small smile.

"This is Jessica. Jess, this is Meg." Sam said softly. Jess smiled widely.

"Hi, Meg. I've heard a lot about you." Jess replied. Meg beamed. That meant Sammy had been talking about her.

"Meg." Dean said behind them, but he wasn't really mad. Not watching his two favourite people reunite. "I told you to wait in the car. How'd you even get in?"

Meg shrugged one shoulder as Sam set her down, the strap of her dungarees falling down. "Climbed the fire escape. I wanted to see Sam," she reasoned. "Plus, I'm hungry." Dean rolled his eyes fondly. The girl certainly had his appetite. She went to stand next to her oldest brother, who placed a gentle hand on her unruly curls.

"Was just explaining to Sammy why we're here," Dean said, shifting his focus back to his brother. "Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam stiffened, his face serious. "Jess, excuse us."

____

Meg knew it was bad. They'd come to get Sam from school, so it had to be bad. The didn't bother Sam for anything, not even when Meg hurt her leg last year. Sure, Dad would take off for days, sometimes weeks at a time, but he always called. Kept Dean up to date on where he was and what he was hunting. Sometimes he'd ask after Meg. Most of the time he trusted Dean to look after her and assumed he'd call if anything was wrong. Not that John could - or would - do anything if she was sick.

Dean had already been getting worried in New Orleans when they hadn't heard from him. Then they got the voicemail, and his worry turned to dread. He'd ran the voicemail through a computer and found the EVP, a crackling female voice talking about home. They'd left for Stanford that night.

Meg knew it was bad, but she wasn't that concerned. The thing that worried her most was Dean's fear. He was trying to hide it, but she could see that underneath his smile and confidence, he was worried. For Meg, things were much the same. In fact, they were almost better. She could go months without seeing her father or hearing his voice, that wasn't new. But getting Sammy back? That was awesome.

She sat in the back of the Impala while Sam and Dean had a conversation in hushed voices about Dad and EVP and Monday. Meg didn't know what was happening on Monday, but it seemed important to Sam. She waited for them to finish talking, and looked up at Sam's apartment. She liked Jess, she decided. Meg had been raised by her brothers, her Uncle Bobby, and very occasionally her father, but she didn't know many women. Jessica was nice, and she was pretty, and Sammy seemed to really like her - maybe even love her.

The driver side door opened and Meg sat up eagerly.

"Sammy's gone to pack a bag," Dean said with a smile. Meg stuck her head out the Impala's window.

"Sammy!" she called. He turned at the door. "Bring me a Pop Tart!"

_________

"Can I sit up front with you?" Meg asked her brothers after Sam slung his duffel in the trunk. Sam didn't have any Pop Tarts in his house, but he'd brought her a brunch bar to snack on. It tasted like cardboard and disappointment.

"No, you stay back there, munchkin. Get some sleep." Dean replied. Meg pouted.

"I can't sleep! We just got Sammy back!" Meg cried. She turned her attention to Sam. "I like Jessica. Is she your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, yeah she is." Sam said, and he couldn't keep the smile of his face.

"Awww." Meg said, scrunching up her nose. "Jess and Sammy sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes love-"

"Alright, alright. Cut it out." Dean said, but he smirked at the blush creeping up Sam's neck to his face. "Hey, Goose, why don't you tell Sam what you've been up to since you saw him last."

"Dean, we haven't seen him in for ages! That's so much stuff! Hmm... Okay, Uncle Bobby got a new dog, his name is Rumsfeld and I love him. Last year I hurt my leg really bad and I had to get shots but even then we couldn't come see you. But it was alright 'cos Dean looked after me for a week and I didn't have to do any school work. I lost like four teeth since I last saw you as well and now I can't whistle. Umm... what else? Oh - Dean taught me how to fix the Impala and I'm really good at it. I've been riding shotgun when it's just us, but you can have that seat now. Just don't touch my music. I also grew taller and then my shoes didn't fit so we had to go shopping. That was kinda boring though. Uncle Bobby's been teaching me lots of things, too, like -"

Sam held up a hand. "Slow down, Meg. Take a breath. What happened to your leg?" The admission she'd hurt her leg had been the most concerning thing he'd heard, and she hadn't been forthcoming with any details.

"A monster got it. I had'to go hospital and get shots and stitches, but then Dean got me ice cream, and even Dad-"

"Why in the hell were anywhere near a monster? Dean, what the hell are you thinking? She's a kid, she- "

"I know she's a kid, Sam, it's not like I planned it. Dad needed help on a case and I didn't have time to take Meg to Bobby's, so she stayed in the car. There were only supposed to be three - Dad hadn't clocked the other Skinwalker until it was at the car. We handled it, Meg got patched up, everyone's fine." Dean fired back defensively, raising his voice.

"How is that fine, Dean? She could've been taken, or killed, or turned! You're supposed to be looking after her, not putting her in danger, for crying out - "

"Looking out for her? Sam, that's all I do. It was a freak accident, and you ain't gonna make me feel worse than I already do. Not to mention, you haven't even been here for years. I ain't about to get a lecture from the guy who bailed on us, on his family - "

"Enough!" Meg cried out from the back seat, eyes getting watery. "No arguing when we just got Sammy back! 'Sides, he left 'cos he and Dad argued all the time so if you keep arguing, he'll leave again." Both boys softened at her outburst.

"Meg, that isn't why I left - "

"I don't care. I didn't get that hurt, really. Plus Dad stuck around for like almost a whole week, which I think is the longest I've seen him since... ever? And Dean made me pancakes whenever I asked, and then we went to stay with Uncle Bobby while my leg got all the way better and he looked after me really, really well. It wasn't Dean's fault, it was the monster's fault. Don't shout at him."

The car lapsed into an awkward silence. Dean's guilt was still eating him up inside, even though it had been over a year since Meg got hurt. He knew it was his fault, knew he should've looked after her better, but Sam throwing it in his face didn't help. Not to mention the fact that Meg thought Sam was staying so long as they didn't argue. He'd have to sit her down and explain that Sam was probably leaving them as soon as they found Dad. But that conversation could wait.

"Do you want to see my wicked cool scar?" Meg offered, trying to ease the tension. "I look like the Terminator!" Sam smiled softly and nodded, so Meg rolled up the leg of her dungarees to show him.

"Just like the Terminator," Sam murmured, running a finger over the raised, pink scars. There were three, clearly claw marks, running up her shin. Eight years old and scarred by a monster. "You said Uncle Bobby'd been teaching you stuff. Hunting stuff?"

Meg shrugged one shoulder as she rolled the cuff back down. "Sometimes, but mostly other stuff. We've been readin' about myths and the Greeks and how the Egyptians made mummies. They pulled the brains out through their noses! We study a lot of history together, probably 'cos he was there when most of this stuff happened."

Dean snorted. "Maybe don't tell Bobby that, Goose." Meg just shrugged. "We got a few hours driving, you really should get some shut eye."

"But Dean..." Meg whined, shutting up when Dean shot her a look in the rearview mirror. She huffed, reaching for her blanket and stuffed dog toy, Patch - her best friend, really. She draped the red and black checkered blanket over her lap, leaning her head back against the seat. She was tired, but didn't want to go to sleep. She stifled a yawn.

"Sammy'll be here when you wake up," Dean said softly, as if he could read her mind. She smiled a little, closing her eyes as the thrum of the Impala's engine lulled her into sleep, as it had done her entire life.

_______

This case was different from the others they worked, Meg could tell. Their Dad wasn't in Jericho, in fact he'd packed up mid-hunt, leaving Sam and Dean tracking down something called a Woman in White. Then Dean had been arrested, Sammy drove the Impala into a house and nearly had his heart ripped out by a ghost.

Average day for a Winchester.

They were on the road again, and Meg had an awful, awful feeling they were taking Sam back to Stanford. She was in the front, squished between her brothers, her favourite place in the world. Dean's music was playing in the background, the familiar bass welcome in the otherwise silent car, Meg's head resting on Sam's shoulder.

"Do you have to go back?" she asked quietly, so quietly they almost hadn't heard her. Sam sighed softly, stroking her unruly curls away from her face.

"Yes, sweetheart, I do. I have an interview on Monday." he replied gently. Meg's lower lip quivered as she fought back tears. Both her arms were wrapped around Sam's large one, gripping the fabric of his jacket.

"Please don't leave us." She begged, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. Sam and Dean exchanged a look over her head. "Please."

"I'm sorry, Meg." Sam said, wrapping his arm around her. She buried herself in him, his scent, his Sam-ness, savouring it. "I... I have to. You'll be okay. Dean'll look after you." She knew that. That wasn't the problem.

"Everyone leaves," she mumbled into his shirt, and both boys knew she was talking about more than Sam.

"Don't worry," Dean said with more confidence than he felt. "It'll me and you again, like always. We'll find Dad together." Sam's heart twisted at Dean's words, with guilt and hurt. Was there a place for him in this family anymore? He knew Dean's words were meant to comfort Meg, that they weren't intended to hurt him. Or maybe Dean was pissed at him for going back, or for going to college in the first place, and they were meant to hurt, in which case, mission accomplished.

Sam looked down at Meg, the guilt eating at his heart. He knew what it was like. She'd grown up with the three Winchester's and a handful of other hunter's as family, the Impala as a home. Her mother had left, then Sam, and now Dad was missing too. He didn't know what to say. Couldn't offer her the comfort or reassurance she needed. So he squeezed her shoulder and pulled her in closer, savouring the feeling of her in his arms again.

_____

The smell of smoke was all around them, even though the fire had been put out. They'd hung around a while outside Sam's apartment, Meg dozing in the back seat, Dean watching the building closely. He hadn't been sure what he was even waiting for. Until he was. Until the flames erupted and he heard Sam scream.

Meg was tucked under Dean's arm where she was safest. She'd been crying, partly for Jess, even though she barely knew her, but mostly for Sammy. The small, selfish part of her that may have been glad Sam was coming with them now was muted by the empty look in his eyes, the grief on his face, the lingering tear tracks on his cheeks.

It wasn't fair, she thought crossly. Sam loved Jess. They'd seen her only three days ago. How could someone be gone so quickly?

Meg had tried to comfort Sam. But she didn't really know what to do or say. So she had stayed quiet while Dean held their brother, extending one hand to rest on Sam's knee, her own tears snaking down her face as she watched one of her heroes cry.

She knew enough about her brother's mom, her father's mission, to know Mary Winchester died similarly. That's what scared them the most. The monster was still out there, and the Winchester's weren't safe yet. Maybe they never would be.

Sam's grief began to give way to anger. His eyes hardened, body straightening, as he rifled through the Impala's trunk, surveying the weapons. His voice was sharp as he looked at Dean.

"We got work to do."

Thank you for reading!

Taglist - @podado-t-memes @ariesandwolves

(P.S. - I posted the first part to @/winchesterdefender first, then moved my writing onto this blog. If you requested to be tagged on winchesterdefender I have added you here - please message if I have missed you!)

[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

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

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?”

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

Ellie’s POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How'd he bite it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean’s POV 

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

“That's right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Dr. Gregg just died, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie’s POV

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

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

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

“How so?”

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you mean?"

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

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

I shrugged, "For example."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

"You heard me."

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

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

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

"Well how bad could it be?"

"Bad."

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

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

"Shit," Dean groaned.

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, "What?"

"Bela."

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

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

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

Sam's POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I remember you turning me down."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean grinned, “Maybe."

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

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

“Dean—”

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie’s POV

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

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

"Why?" Sam questioned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam's POV

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

"Bobby?"

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

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

“Dean?”

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

“How in the hell did you find me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you, crazy!?”

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

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

“Bobby, who is that?” Dean asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie’s POV

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

“Who are you? You don't belong here.”

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

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

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

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

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

Sam's POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes! Now take control of it.”

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

“I don't believe it," Bobby muttered.

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

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

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

Ellie’s POV

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

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

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

“I'm sorry," Dean said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...I was thirsty," he admitted.

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

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

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

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

2 Days Later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Taking myself a long-overdue nap.”

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

“That's the idea.”

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“We're coming in with you," I said.

“No, you're not.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I have no idea," Dean said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dream a little dream of me.

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

“Where'd she go?” Dean breathed out.

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

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

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

Dean’s POV

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to talk.”

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

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

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

“Sure I am. I'm you.”

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

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

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

Ellie's POV

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? Tell that to Dr. Gregg.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry," I said. "Can't do that.”

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

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

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

Dean’s POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie’s POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The thing in Flagstaff.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean's POV

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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