#the idea that he just peeked at the passwords is much funnier to me. got them from aziraphale or something | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katehuntington · 5 years ago

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Title: Changes - part five Word count: ±4000 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work together. Summary part five: While Dean catches up on some sleep after being shot, Sam goes over Zoë’s research, curious to find out more about the case and the intriguing huntress. A whole lot more is revealed, however, once Zoë wakes up. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Music: Down By The River - Neil Young, Look But You Can’t Touch - Poison, Changes - Black Sabbath. Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank: @coffee-obsessed-writer, @soupornatural & @mrswhozeewhatsis, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish & @winchest09 who are deciphering the recent version. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

Sunshine peeks through the red curtains, like a little kid playing hide and seek. The beams of light illuminate motes of dust, which playfully dance in the air. Thunder and rain have moved on and made room for the sun to brighten the Northern state. It’s past noon and Sam is seated at the table, which is entirely filled with papers, books, files, and both his and Zoë’s laptops. Concentrated, he goes through documents on Zoë’s Macbook, preparing for the next encounter with the shapeshifter. Neil Young is singing Down By The River on the radio, so softly, that he has to listen carefully to make out the words.

Besides traffic rushing by on Route 52 right next to the motel, it’s peaceful. Dean stirs in the double bed, but settles again and continues to sleep while snoring softly, causing his brother to look up and grin. He’s not sure what’s funnier; the fact that Dean is neither sleeping on the floor nor on the couch as Zoë persisted earlier, or that she’s actually the one sleeping next to him. Just before 8 o'clock she finished up the last stitch on Dean. Sam still doesn’t know if Zoë actually knew what she was doing, but she did great. After a night like last night, neither of them gave a damn who slept next to whom.

He thought Dean was hard-headed, but Zoë takes the cake, which is without doubt the reason why they can’t stand each other. It is unimaginable now, but they must have gotten along fine before, otherwise Dean wouldn’t have remembered her. Hell, he doesn’t even remember some of the girls he hooked up with, not to mention the girls he didn’t. If Sam may believe his brother, she was this fun, sweet and caring student, living the good life. A typical Californian girl, loved to surf and hang out on the beach. Also quite a musician; apparently she’s pretty good with a guitar. That’s what Dean told him on their way over to the motel anyway. She worked hard to become a surgeon, aiming for neurology. Then that demon came along and fucked it all up.

Sam sighs, sympathizing with the young woman. Why do bad things always happen to good people? Now look what she has become. She's a hunter, one that is damn good at her job, but still. She could have ended up with so much more. It turns out that everyone in this line of work needs history to get lost in the world of monsters. He hasn't heard the whole story yet and Zoë doesn't seem to feel like sharing, but one thing is for sure; she uses her intelligence that got her into med school to her advantage as a hunter. The supernatural database she’s built is outstanding, especially taking into account that the first file dates from 2001, a little over four years ago. She is dedicated, that’s for sure.

He looks over at the young woman, who is sleeping peacefully, curled up on her right side, eyes closed and breathing calmly. It’s weird to see the huntress like that; she seems so vulnerable now. Not entirely, though, because even in her sleep, the huntress seems to have the upper hand on Dean. She has claimed the covers and is comfortably cocooned by them, not leaving much for Sam’s brother. He doesn’t seem to be bothered, though. It will take a lot to wake Dean up after what went down this morning. He was in agony during the procedure, probably wishing he had taken her offer for a sedation when he had the chance. The pain took its toll, knocking him out soon after Zoë ran the last stitch through his skin. After he had his burger, of course.

The light from outside shines a graceful glow on Zoë’s pretty face; she seems to be smiling slightly. Their roommate for the night might act like a total bitch, especially to Dean, but Sam finds her attractive. It isn’t just the fact that she’s a beautiful woman; it’s her attitude, too. Zoë has proven already to be incredibly intelligent, not to mention independent. She stands her ground and doesn’t let anyone tell her what to do. Since they have met, he saw both fire and ice in her eyes; she’s a force of nature to be reckoned with. However, he has to be honest with himself. After what happened to Jess, he can’t think of her like that, not now.

His eyes are taken over by sadness as his thoughts go back to that moment, almost a month ago. He shifts in his chair, causing it to creak. He doesn’t have time to dwell in his sorrow, because out of nowhere, Zoë bolts up startled and pulls a gun from under her pillow. “Whoa!" Sam shows his hands in innocence. Puzzled, the huntress stares at him, then aside at Dean, only then lowering the gun. “Guess it wasn’t a weird dream,” she mutters with a raspy voice. “No, I guess it wasn’t. Holy shit.” He relaxes again when Zoë flips the safety switch of the gun and puts it back under her pillow. “I’m not used to having people around, that’s all,” she excuses as she intends to get out of bed. “I think paranoid is a better description,” Sam comments. “Shut up,” Zoë sneers, clearly not in a good mood. “What time is it?” “Almost one,” Sam replies, concentrating on the computer screen again. Not even five hours, she realizes; although it’s past midday, she didn’t get much sleep.

She licks her lips and swallows thickly, trying to get rid of the bad taste in her mouth. Not a great way to wake up, she still feels like roadkill. The amount of whiskey she drank last night, followed by fries and a burger, didn’t help either. Thankfully, it’s still pretty dark in the room. Her eyes can’t handle the bright light from outside just yet. A moan escapes her mouth as she gets up, her hand covering her painful abdomen. God, it seems even worse than last night, but she’s not worried. It’s normal to feel sore, unfortunately this is not the first time she’s been shot. Slowly, she shuffles to the bathroom while Sam watches her. “You alright?” he wonders, surprised by her condition. “Yeah, just a bit hungover,” she lies.

Sam decides not to ask any more questions. They may have only just met, but he’s under the distinct impression that he won’t get far if he goes at her with the third degree. He turns back to his laptop, watching an installation program proceed. The county website of Rochester is hidden in the lowest toolbar, and finally the slow moving progress bar hits a hundred percent. A program opens and asks for a password. “Damn it!” Sam curses. How on earth is he gonna crack this? He is pretty skilled with a computer, but he’s not a hacker. “What?” The voice comes from the bathroom, it’s just now that Sam hears the shower running. “Nothing,” he responds, absently. Zoë decides not to ask again. Besides, it’s not like she actually cares. The cleansing water coming from the showerhead feels like acid on her stitched up bullet wound, but at the same time it’s relieving. She rakes her fingers through her hair and lets the water rain down on her face. The silence bothers Zoë, she could use a little music to start her day. “Could you turn on the radio?” Silence. Sam is so focused on his work, that he doesn’t hear her. “Sam!” Zoë shouts over the noise of the shower. He snaps out of it. “What?” “Could you turn up the radio?” she repeats. “Dean’s asleep,” he reacts, typing strenuously. “So?” Again, Sam fails to respond. “Hello?!” “What? No, I can’t work with music,” he mutters thoughtlessly.

Zoë doesn’t ask again. Dean - knowing her better - would’ve probably noticed that unusual fact, but it’s not until Zoë walks by, completely naked and dripping wet, that she catches Sam’s attention. “Holy sh--" He swallows down the last word and quickly snaps his head away, almost falling off his chair. Not even a bit uncomfortable, the huntress elegantly parades to the table, leaving footprint shaped puddles in her wake. She bends over to turn up the volume, getting into Sam’s personal space. Look But You Can’t Touch by Poison blares from the radio once she gives the button a spin, but she doesn’t leave just yet. Amused, she turns to face him, leaning against the table, provokingly. The younger Winchester brother awkwardly tries to keep his eyes from wandering; it’s obvious he’s ill-at-ease.

“Never seen a naked woman before, geekboy?” “You could have warned me,” he responds, his voice slightly higher than usual, still looking away with wide opened eyes. “You could have turned up the radio,” she counters. Only when Zoë moves away from him again, he breathes out. When he’s pretty sure it’s safe to turn his head, Sam carefully glances at the bathroom. Thank God, she’s back in the shower. Again he rubs his face and stares at his brother for a moment, who’s still asleep. “Dean, you have no idea what you just missed,” he mumbles, before the huntress’ voice startles him again. “What’s that?” Sam shifts uncomfortably in his chair and stares back at the bathroom. “N-nothing!” he responds, too fast. Not a sound.

She’s not gonna come back out again, is she? Sam swallows apprehensively and tries to concentrate on his work, but he finds it difficult to do so. Whoa, I mean, really… Whoa. She might behave like a total bitch, but she’s breathtaking. He only had a glance, but the image is carved in his memory. Curvy, yet muscular; it’s clear she’s fit. He hits himself in the head; he cannot think of her like that. She’s a bitch, not sexy. Bitch, not sexy. Suddenly, he hears her voice echo from the bathroom. At first it scares Sam, because for a moment, it sounds like she’s right behind him, but then he’s pleasantly surprised as she joins in during the chorus of the song playing on the radio. “‘cause you can look but you can't touch, cause the best things in life ain't cheap. You can look but you can't touch, cause baby I ain't for keeps,” she sings, teasingly. Again, he peeks at the bathroom. He can see her pretty much perfect silhouette through the blurred glass, and he quickly turns his head. Sam Winchester, keep it together! He’s disgusted by the fact that he can’t keep his eyes off her, but then again, any man who could, isn’t interested in the opposite sex.

The song fades into a new one, this time an easy listener: Changes by Black Sabbath. Not particularly a happy song, and it changes the mood in the room. “What’s up with the whole vampire lifestyle?” Zoë asks out of nowhere, after a long silence. Apparently, she doesn’t feel like singing anymore. She closes the faucet and the sound of the water falling down on the ivory colored tiles stops. “What?” Sam looks over at her, puzzled, although he can’t see her behind the glass. “There are about half a dozen empty coffee containers on the table.” Her voice sounds hollow in the empty bathroom, but Sam can hear her loud and clear. She opens the shower door and grabs her towel. It takes Sam a while to answer her question, as he’s trying to decide whether he should tell her or not. “I can’t sleep,” he answers shortly, choosing the latter. “Sure you��re not craving for human blood?” she jokes. Behind the blurred glass she shimmies in a pair of jeans and puts on her bra. “It’s nothing like that, really. It’s--” He pauses, scratching his chin, finding it difficult to talk about it, “- it’s Jessica.”

His thoughts wander as he folds his hands together and leans forward, his elbows on his knees, staring at a single pixel on the screen. Suddenly, it’s not that difficult to disregard the attractive Zoë. For a moment he pictures her, his pretty Jess. Long, curly blonde hair, that beautiful smile. God, she was gorgeous in every way. He was in love with her, he still is. “Girlfriend?” Zoë assumes. “Yeah, well… She was,” he answers with difficulty. “Oh, I see,” Zoë grins, thinking she got it figured. She enters the main room while she buttons her white-grey plaid blouse. “She dumped you, huh?” Sam remains quiet and leans back in his chair. He takes a sip from his coffee, still staring into nothingness. Meanwhile, Zoë sits down on her side of the mattress and takes a bottle of painkillers from the nightstand, popping two pills to dull the pain. She pulls a pair of socks and black leather ankle boots out of a backpack underneath her bed, putting them on while she glances at Sam. “You dumped her and regret it?” Zoë tries again.

He swallows thickly, trying to get rid of the lump that is building in his throat. Then he looks her straight in the eye, only for a few seconds, before he averts them down to the carpet again. It spooks her, the sudden and penetrating gaze, and she pauses her actions. But Sam is not angry with the huntress, who is shocked by what she sees in the depths of his pupils. So much sorrow, so much guilt. She knows that look, she knows it way too well.

“She’s dead,” she realizes. Sam doesn’t need to tell her, but he confirms with a nod, almost unnoticeable. She looks down at her boots, feeling sorry for him for the first time since they’ve met. Showing those feelings isn’t something she’s comfortable with, so she keeps it plain. “Because of something we hunt?” she asks carefully. “Yeah,” he answers shortly, looking at the empty coffee container in his hand.

An eerie silence falls over them, as the image of Jessica returns to his thoughts once again, the vision clear as a bell. This time he doesn’t see her smiling, he sees her in the state that he found her. He grinds his teeth, trying to ban the haunting memory from his mind. While Sam struggles, Zoë observes him, noticing something about the youngest Winchester that feels familiar, something she recognizes. He’s grieving, trying to cope with the impossible. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she says, pronouncing the words somewhat like a doctor would do, monotone and distant. It’s about as compassionate as Zoë gets these days, and although Sam only encountered her a couple of hours ago, he seems to realize it. When he looks up, his eyes glisten. He doesn't say a word, but gives her a thankful nod. Although this is a painful moment, she cannot drop the question that led to the reveal. “I can’t help but notice, though, that you’re not completely honest with me.” She gets up from the bed and shoves the curtains aside, letting the bright sunlight in. Dean, facing the window, groans and turns his head. He breathes in deeply and lets out a sigh, but doesn’t wake up. When Zoë’s sure he’s still out, she continues. “You see, you say you can’t sleep. I think you can, but just don’t want to. Otherwise you wouldn’t need six large cups of coffee to stay awake,” she analyses smartly.

Sam glances at the empty containers on the table and scoffs; someone’s observant. Seems like she’s figuring him out in record time. Strangely, he doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Actually, he wants to tell her. Dean knows his little brother has nightmares about the dreadful event, but doesn’t know the whole truth. Sam doesn’t want to worry him or raise a red flag just yet, he’d rather figure out what’s going on first. But for some reason, the younger Winchester has the urge to open up. He trusts the huntress enough to reveal some of his darkest secrets, yet there’s a fair amount of distance between them to avoid awkwardness. Where that trust comes from, he’s not sure. It’s more than a gut feeling. If he didn’t know better, he would describe it as instinct. Sam looks over at Dean; he’s still sound asleep. Zoë notices. “You’re worried about him?” She huffs, looking back at the younger brother. “Don’t. You’ll need to set off a bomb before he wakes up.” Sam chuckles; seems like she’s got Dean figured out as well. He knows the two have more history than his brother let on, but he doubts that it was sexual, otherwise Dean would have bragged about it. Yet Sam can tell from the non-verbal communication that their bond lies deeper. Dean was there when her life got turned upside down, maybe he had a significant role to play in saving her from that demon. Whatever the origin of their strange relationship, it has them bickering like an old married couple.

Hesitation has him pondering. He trusts the female hunter, and on a certain level, so does Dean. But enough to allow her a glimpse at the skeletons in his closet? “I have these nightmares,” he blurts and then pauses, deciding that he might as well give her the whole story. “Let’s put it this way: I'd rather stay awake than have to experience them.” Zoë strolls through the room and halts on the other side, leaning against the wall; she seems interested all of a sudden. “Nightmares, huh?” she repeats, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “What do you dream about?” “All sorts of things. Bad things happening to people I don’t even know. Except for the first one.” He stares at the floor again. The huntress knows enough. “You dream about Jessica, didn’t you?” He nods. “Thing is, I don’t just dream about her now...” A shuddering exhale leaves his lips. Here goes nothing. “I saw her die... days before it happened.”

Zoë doesn’t respond, yet continues to intently observe him. He’s unable to read the huntress, but surprisingly enough, she doesn’t seem shocked by the statement. Sam glances over at Dean again, making sure he’s still asleep. Not wanting him to hear the conversation, he continues with a lowered voice. “I can’t put my finger on it. How is it even possible that I see an event take place days before it actually happens? It almost seems like--” “- a vision?” she fills in. “Yeah,” Sam whispers. “Come on, it’s strange. Even for people like us.” “It is strange.” Zoë bites her lip again; it seems to be a habit. “Do you have headaches?” she wonders, out of the blue. Puzzled, Sam glances up at her, but she doesn’t blink. “Yeah. I do, actually,” he realizes. “But with everything going on with Jess and Dad--” “John?” Zoë intervenes. “Yeah. He’s missing,” Sam clears up. The huntress scoffs. “Aha. He’s good at that sort of thing.” Sam registers the cynical tone and narrows his eyes, but decides to ignore the comment. “This is different. He just took off one night, left Dean and disappeared. That’s when my brother came to Stanford,” Sam tells her. “To drag your ass back into the family business?” “Yeah. I guess that was his intention, but it isn’t the reason why I’m hunting again,” he says. “Mom was murdered, and now Jess? It’s too much of a coincidence, especially with Dad gone. Something’s up.” She walks back to the window and observes the parking lot outside. It’s a great day, the sun is shining brightly, smiling down at Rochester. It’s almost ironic, working on a dark case and discussing these family matters during weather so sunny; it doesn’t fit the picture. “Maybe something snatched him,” she mentions, not even considering that this conclusion might upset Sam. “No,” he counters fiercely. “Since when do monsters make such an effort to cover up the death of a hunter? When they take one of us, they leave a body for others to find.” She frowns at that, nodding slightly. Sam has a point. “You think he’s on a hunting trip?” “I think he’s hunting down the son of a bitch that killed Mom and Jess,” Sam speaks up.

Zoë continues to stare at the passing cars on the freeway and pulls on her bottom lip with her teeth, thinking about his assumption. The younger Winchester is probably right. John has always been obsessed with the thing that killed his wife and he will do anything to get revenge. No matter what the consequences, no matter what the sacrifice. She sits down on the bed again, this time not facing the window, but Sam. His girlfriend, his mother’s death, John Winchester’s disappearance, maybe even the nightmares, this could all be connected. Without making eye contact, she frowns and lets a sigh escape her chest. “Are you absolutely sure that the thing that killed your mother came back, Sam? ’Cause this could be pretty damn important,” she urges. This time she does observe him, her dark eyes boring deeply into his. He gazes back, hurt by the memories resurfacing, yet confident. “I saw my girlfriend, pinned on the ceiling, bleeding on me, after which she caught fire. The same way Dad saw Mom burn.” Sam pronounces his words slowly, his voice breaks halfway through the sentence. Zoë can imagine the scenario haunts him. He relives it, every day, every time he thinks of her. “It’s the same monster,” Zoë realizes, as the pieces begin to fall into place.

The young Winchester doesn’t respond, not until has picked up her biker’s jacket from the chair and heads for the door. “Where are you going?” “I’m gonna check on my Dave. I thought I heard a sputter in the engine last night,” Zoë explains, but halts by the door. “One more question.” Sam waits patiently, looking at her from where he’s seated. She seems to hesitate, but then continues without looking him in the eye. “Do you have them during the day?” “What? The nightmares?” he returns, puzzled. She nods, glancing up at him now. “Wouldn’t be nightmares then, would they?” he returns, not understanding her reasoning behind the question. “You’re right, never mind. I’ll grab some lunch on my way back in. Meanwhile, good luck getting that brother of yours out of his coma.”

The door closes, and Sam is left with his unconscious sibling. The younger Winchester shakes his head while he scoffs. She’s a strange girl, that Zoë Sullivan. She has a dark sense of humor; sarcastic, cynical. Arrogant, even more so than Dean; now that’s a new one. It doesn’t happen very often that they come across someone who can knock the older Winchester on his ass. Or is all that big talk just a facade she’s trying to keep up? She seems bitter, even cruel at times, but her heart isn’t all black, not yet. Sam believes there’s a lot more under the surface. Loneliness, anger, frustration, sorrow, fear; he knows those feelings and deep down, Zoë probably knows them, too.

There’s something about her that he recognizes. All three of them lost their normal lives because of something supernatural. Dean was four years old when he was introduced to this world so few people know about, and grew up in it. Zoë, on the other hand, was twenty-one when she found out. He himself stepped back from the hunting fields and was about to study law at Stanford, until a few weeks ago, that is. Sure, Dean might pretend that he embraces his hunting career and that ordinary is dull, but if he ever gets the chance, Dean would want out, too. All of them were normal up to a certain point in their lives, and that’s what they have to hold on to. It gives them the slightest bit of hope they need to keep going, believing that one day they might be able to return to that simple life. Whatever happens, though, things will never be the same again. People died and won’t ever come back. They will always know. They will always be looking over their shoulder. They will always be hunters.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part six here

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