dumbbutadorable

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟗;

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭"

The map room was quiet. Still. Holy, in a way it had never felt before.

The sigil Castiel carved into the stone floor glowed faintly, its Enochian lines pulsing with an ominous light. Candles flickered in a wide circle, their flames bending toward the center—toward you.

You stood there barefoot, your breath shallow, your nerves drawn tight as wire.

Sam checked the final markings, his jaw tight with focus but his eyes full of worry. “You sure about this, Y/n?”

You nodded, voice a whisper. “I have to try.”

Dean stepped up beside you, his hand settling on your shoulder. “We’re right here. You hear me?”

“I hear you,” you said, eyes on the sigil. “Let’s do it.”

Castiel’s gaze lingered on you as you lay down in the center of the glyph, your body tense as your back touched the cold stone. His expression was unreadable—but behind the stillness, you felt the grief rolling off him like waves.

“Don’t leave me,” you said, barely a whisper.

“We won’t,” Sam said firmly, kneeling near your head.

Dean moved to your side, fingers brushing your hand.

And then, they began.

The chant was low at first—ancient Enochian words slipping from Sam and Castiel’s lips in perfect rhythm. The glyph beneath you responded instantly. It lit up in searing white fire, the air shifting—pressing against you like a weight on your chest.

And then the pain started.

You arched with a sudden scream, a sound that tore through the silence like shattering glass. It felt like claws digging into your soul, ripping it apart from the inside. Your body thrashed against the stone, heels scraping, fingers clawing at the air as though trying to crawl out of your own skin.

Dean was at your side, voice rough. “Hold on, Y/n. Just hold on."

You couldn’t.

The visions came next—flashes of your worst memories, your darkest fears, your family twisted into monsters, the boys dead, Castiel fading to dust. You screamed again, tears streaming down your cheeks as your eyes burned—

—and then bled.

Thin streams of red trickled from the corners of your eyes, dripping down your temples as you sobbed. “Please—make it stop—I can’t—I can’t—”

Sam’s voice wavered, but he didn’t stop chanting. Castiel’s hands were raised now, glowing with grace, trembling from the strain of tearing magic apart at its source.

Dean didn’t leave your side. He knelt beside you, gripping your hand tight, repeating your name like a lifeline. “You’re not alone. You hear me? We’ve got you.”

Your back arched once more—your entire body lifting off the ground with the force of the pain—and then you collapsed.

Still. Gasping.

Your breath came in short, ragged bursts, every muscle in your body twitching from the trauma. Your skin was slick with sweat, blood drying on your cheeks, your lips parted in silent exhaustion.

It was done.

The sigil went dark.

Dean was the first to move, already lifting you into his arms like you weighed nothing. “I got you, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice shaking.

Sam followed closely, face pale, grief carved deep into his features as he opened your bedroom door.

Castiel touched your forehead gently, his fingers glowing faintly as he whispered a blessing—not to heal the pain, not fully, but to ease it just enough.

They laid you in bed carefully, tenderly. Dean wiped your face with a warm cloth, whispering words too soft to catch. Sam covered you with the blanket, then sat at the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair in silence.

Castiel stood by your head, his eyes closed, his palm resting lightly over your heart—still pouring his grace into the frayed edges of your mind.

You whimpered once.

Just a faint, broken sound.

But there was no screaming.

No sobbing.

You breathed in slowly. Then out.

The boys stayed.

Dean pulled a chair closer, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Sam didn’t bother with a chair—he lay on the rug beside the bed, hand still resting on your arm. And Castiel remained standing, silent sentinel, watching your face as if daring any force in the world to harm you again.

In that room, full of heavy breaths and quiet resolve, you all finally rested.

Together.

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖;

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧"

A week passed.

Each day bled into the next in the bunker’s dim halls—lit by flickering lamp light, low murmurs of research, and the rustle of turning pages.

Sleep became currency. You traded it in shifts.

Some nights, you slept, curled in the middle of the couch like a worn thread in the middle of a quilt. Sam would wake at the smallest sound—his protective instincts sharper than ever. He’d sit beside you quietly, brushing your hair back or whispering your name when your breath turned ragged, his voice steady even when his heart broke a little more every time you flinched in your sleep.

Other nights, it was Dean. Sitting nearby with a mug of lukewarm coffee, music playing low from his phone. He never said much. Just kept watch like a soldier—his boots up on the coffee table, his hand resting close enough to touch yours when you stirred. He’d smile when you woke, but his eyes didn’t sparkle like they used to. Not fully.

Then there were the nights when you stayed up.

When you insisted, gently but firmly, that they needed sleep too. You’d walk the bunker in silence, barefoot on cold tile, wrapping a hoodie around yourself and lighting candles instead of switching on lamps. You watched over them the way they always had for you.

And Castiel… Castiel never really left.

He didn’t just keep guard over your room—he lived in your mind now. Every time your dreams turned jagged, every time your chest tightened and your scream was on the verge of breaking through—he was there. Anchoring you.

Sometimes you’d hear him whisper words in Enochian under his breath. Sometimes he just sat across from you at the table, reading silently while you took notes from one of Bobby’s journals. He never asked for thanks. But you gave him small smiles, and he always returned them—soft and reverent, like he could barely believe you were still standing.

And finally, finally, all that pain unearthed something useful.

One night, Sam was tracing sigils from an old hunter’s codex, his fingers ink-smudged and trembling from lack of sleep. Dean was flipping through a stack of lore books on dream magic and soul tethers, muttering to himself.

You were reading through your notes—the pages from that obscure forum you found the first night you’d stayed up alone. A quote caught your eye again:

“Disrupt the source, and the visions can’t grow.”

You paused, heart thudding.

Your eyes flicked to Sam’s sigil. “Wait… that one,” you said, pointing. “That’s not just a protection sigil. That’s a severing glyph. It’s meant to cut magical tethers—not banish spirits. It disrupts connection.”

Sam’s eyes shot up. “You’re right.” His voice sharpened with sudden clarity. “I’ve seen this in another book—Rowena used it once to break a hex that fed off psychic pain.”

Dean stood. “Okay, how do we use it?”

Castiel appeared in the doorway then, a quiet shadow of light. “It won’t be easy,” he said, looking straight at you. “The witch didn’t simply attach the curse to Y/n—she tied herself to her, feeding off every ounce of suffering. That bond is deep. If we break it… it could hurt her.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “It’s already hurting her.”

You lifted your chin, determination hardening in your bones. “I can handle it.”

Sam studied you for a long beat. Then nodded. “Alright. We’ll prep the ritual. But we’ll do it together. No more solo suffering, Y/n. You’re not alone.”

That night, for the first time in weeks, there was hope in the air.

Not a cure. Not yet. But a thread. Something to pull—something that might lead to freedom.

As the boys gathered the ingredients and Cas began etching the sigils across the floor of the map room, you stared at your hands—still shaking, still scarred—and clenched them into fists.

You were going to rip this curse out of your soul if it was the last thing you did

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟕;

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡"

The bunker was finally quiet.

After nearly a week of sleepless nights—of screams echoing down stone corridors, of cold sweats and Castiel’s low, worried voice trying to soothe you in the dark—you made a decision.

Tonight, they needed rest.

All of them.

Sam, curled up with a book at your bedside, had been fighting sleep for hours. You watched his head bob once, twice, and then he gave in. Dean had long since dozed off on the couch, boots half-untied and one hand still holding the remote. Castiel, who never needed sleep, had been in your mind constantly, anchoring you as best he could through visions that never let up. But even angels could burn out, and you saw it in the heaviness behind his usually sharp eyes.

So tonight, you told them you felt fine. No nightmares. No pain. Just tired.

And they believed you.

Now, at 2:14 AM, the only light in the bunker glowed from the desk lamp in the War Room. Your laptop screen cast pale blue shadows across the table, and your fingers hovered over the keys, trembling slightly.

You didn’t know what you were looking for—only that something had to give. The witch who cursed you had vanished without a trace, and the spell she’d laced into your mind was cruelly intricate. Even Castiel couldn’t unravel it yet. Every night it twisted your dreams into visions—some that tore your heart out, some that made you scream yourself hoarse, and others that made you doubt everything you loved.

You had to fight back.

You opened book after book, scouring PDFs, ancient lore threads, forums of hunters who didn’t even believe angels existed. You typed keywords:

-curses

-dream-binding magic

-witches who use pain as anchors

-how to reverse spells linked to trauma

Nothing concrete. But eventually—after hours—something clicked.

A passage from an old hunter’s journal in an obscure online archive:

“Some witches cast dream-anchoring curses not to torment the victim, but to feed off their fear—especially when it’s rooted in past trauma. The curse may be fueled not by the magic alone, but by the host’s emotional energy. Starving it might weaken it. Disrupt the source, and the visions can’t grow.”

You stared at the words, your heart thudding.

Maybe that’s why the nightmares were so vivid. So real. The witch hadn’t just cursed you—she’d hooked herself into your suffering. Every scream, every memory she forced to play on loop—it fed her.

So how did you cut the cord?

Behind you, the bunker creaked faintly. Dean shifted in his sleep. A low sigh came from Sam’s room, followed by silence. Castiel hadn’t stirred in hours.

Good, you thought. They’re sleeping. They need it.

You reached for another book, scribbled a few notes, and dug deeper. Somewhere in the haze of fatigue and quiet desperation, you began to form a plan. A seed. A thread that maybe—just maybe—could unravel what the witch had done.

You just needed a little more time.

As the clock ticked past 4:30 AM, the weight of exhaustion finally began to pull at your limbs. Your eyes burned, fingers twitching with tiredness. You glanced toward the hallway where the boys were sleeping, their love for you visible even in unconsciousness. Sam’s notebook left open with your name written in the margins. Dean’s jacket tossed over the back of your chair. Castiel’s grace faintly humming through the air like a blanket of light, still watching over you even in his rest.

You smiled faintly.

You weren’t alone.

But you were still the one cursed. And that meant fighting harder than ever.

You leaned back in the chair, mind buzzing with ideas, notebook full of scribbled thoughts—and for the first time in a week, you didn’t feel completely helpless.

The witch messed with the wrong woman.

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔;

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭"

The bunker had never felt colder.

Even with the soft hum of the overhead lights, the warmth of the library lamps, the smell of old books, and Dean’s classic rock echoing faintly from the garage, everything felt…hollow. The halls carried the sound of footsteps like whispers of ghosts — and for the last week, every night ended the same way:

With your screams.

It had been six nights in a row now. Six nights of waking in a panic, body drenched in sweat, throat raw from screaming. Six nights of terrible, twisted visions burned into your mind by the witch’s curse. And no matter how desperately Castiel tried, he couldn’t undo it — not yet.

⸻

Sam was the first to wake that night.

He sat up with a jolt the second your cries echoed through the hallway, his chest tightening as he rushed barefoot out of his room. He knew the sound now — could hear the pitch of your panic before the scream even fully left your throat.

The door to your room was already open. He didn’t bother knocking anymore.

You were thrashing in the bed, tangled in your sheets, mouth parted in a silent gasp. Castiel was already seated on the edge of the mattress, one hand pressed to your temple, his brows furrowed in focused strain.

“She’s reliving it again,” Cas said quietly, his voice laced with guilt. “The witch’s spell is too deeply rooted in her subconscious. I can’t pull her out.”

Sam crossed the room in three long strides and sat beside you, gently taking your flailing hand in his. “Y/n… it’s okay. You’re safe,” he whispered, thumb stroking your knuckles.

You screamed again, body convulsing.

Cas’s jaw clenched, his grace flaring dimly under his skin. “Every night I try. Every night it pushes back harder.”

Sam looked at him. “Then don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Castiel said, eyes never leaving your face.

⸻

Dean, on the other hand, wasn’t waking so fast anymore.

He was exhausted. They all were.

He sat at the kitchen table, a half-empty glass of whiskey untouched beside him. He was staring at nothing, jaw slack, his green eyes heavy and red-rimmed. The soft cries from your room filtered through the bunker like background noise — like the constant hum of heartbreak they were all starting to carry.

When he finally stood and walked into your room, he didn’t speak. He just stepped to your other side, leaned down, and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

Then he sat on the floor beside the bed and rested his forehead on the mattress, one hand reaching up to grasp your wrist as your tremors slowly quieted.

“Please, Y/n,” he murmured into the sheets. “Please come back to us.”

⸻

By the seventh night, they were breaking.

Dean’s temper had grown shorter. Sam’s voice raspier from soft reassurances. Cas hadn’t moved from your room in nearly three days. He was anchoring you from within — guiding you through twisted, horrific illusions conjured by the witch’s magic, night after night, refusing to leave your mind no matter how much it cost him.

He didn’t sleep. He didn’t eat. He didn’t blink.

You didn’t even know he was there… but he was.

And when your eyes fluttered open sometime after 3:00 a.m., you saw them — all three of them — surrounding you. Sam slouched in the chair beside your bed, head dropped onto your mattress. Dean asleep in the corner, still in his jeans and boots, arms crossed and twitching from dreams of his own. And Cas, motionless and still, perched near your head with one hand resting lightly on your temple.

The room was dim.

But you were not alone.

And no matter how broken you felt, how dark the visions got, or how twisted the spell became — they were here.

They were all still here.

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓;

"𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞"

[Highway – Hours Later]

The road stretched endlessly ahead.

The Impala purred beneath you, Dean at the wheel, jaw tense. The weight of silence sat heavy in the car, broken only by the occasional hum of a classic rock ballad, played low to soothe more than entertain.

You sat in the back seat again, bundled in an oversized flannel and a blanket Sam had tucked around you after your third shiver.

Cas rode beside you, closer than usual, fingers twitching against his coat like he wanted to reach out again—but couldn’t. Not without a reason. Not without hurting you.

Sam glanced back every so often. You felt it.

Every time your eyes closed for longer than a blink, someone shifted. Watched. Waited.

But they couldn’t protect you from this.

Not anymore.

⸻

[Somewhere Along I-70 – Night]

Your body jerked violently awake.

Your scream was muffled by your own hand—instinctive now. Automatic. Like breathing.

Cas was already staring at you when you opened your eyes, his own glowing faintly in the dark.

“You dreamed again,” he said.

You nodded slowly, still panting slightly. “Same one. Different order.”

Dean didn’t wake. Sam didn’t stir. You’d learned how to be quiet, even when you were dying inside.

Cas lowered his voice. “The witch’s magic runs deep. Into the folds of your consciousness. I can’t reach it.”

You looked at him, bitter. “But you can burn an entire nest out of existence?”

He didn’t flinch. “Yes. But this… This isn’t something I can kill.”

You stared forward, jaw clenched, chest still rising and falling too fast.

“I’m not afraid of dying,” you whispered. “But she made me feel like I was already dead.”

Cas’s eyes softened. “You’re not. You’re still here.”

“Yeah,” you said flatly. “Unfortunately, so is she. In my head.”

Cas glanced down. Then, softly: “I’m sorry.”

You nodded again, slower. “Me too.”

⸻

[Men of Letters Bunker – Two Days Later]

You stepped through the massive iron doors like you had hundreds of times before—but this time, the air felt colder. The lights dimmer. The silence louder.

Dean carried your bag even though you insisted you could handle it. Sam hovered behind you like a shadow, watchful, always in reach. Cas walked a step ahead, his trench coat like a wall between you and the lingering ache in your chest.

As the lights hummed to life, the bunker welcomed you back like an old friend. And like any old friend—it knew your damage without asking.

You sat down at the war table as Sam and Dean dropped into chairs across from you. Cas lingered behind, silent.

Dean looked up. “You sure you don’t want something to eat?”

You shook your head.

“Sleep?” Sam tried.

You smiled, brittle. “Already had that nightmare. Trying not to double dip tonight.”

Sam frowned. “Y/n…”

“I’m fine,” you said automatically, but your voice cracked.

Cas stepped forward then, resolute. “You’re not. And that’s allowed.”

You looked up at him, exhausted. “Can you try again? In my head?”

Cas hesitated. “Not yet. I could do more harm than good right now. I need time to understand the magic she used.”

Dean rubbed a hand down his face. “Great. So we’re stuck playing nurse while she goes to war in her dreams every night?”

“No one’s asking you to—”

Dean stood. “I am asking. Asking what the hell we do while she suffers.”

Sam cut in, firm. “We help. Like we always do.”

Dean looked at you again—really looked—and the fire in his eyes softened.

“You’re not alone in this,” he said, quieter now.

You glanced between them. “Then don’t treat me like I’m made of glass.”

“You’re not,” Sam said. “But glass cuts deep. Even when it doesn’t shatter.”

Cas met your gaze. “We’ll figure this out, Y/n. I swear it.”

You gave a tired nod.

“I believe you,” you said. “But until then… I guess I just learn how to bleed quieter.”

[dumbbutadorable]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐒𝐚𝐦 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ After a witch hunt, Dean pokes through leftover hexes back at the bunker and finds a glass vial. “What the hell is this? Sammy, smell it.” he uncorks it, and the effect is instant.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Sam turns to you and lights up. His smile is boyish, beaming, and lovesick. “You’re so beautiful.” He says, feeling relief at getting it off his chest. “God, I’ve wanted to tell you that for so long.”

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Cas's diagnosis? “It’s a love potion. His behavior will intensify before it wears off.” Sam is your problem now.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He’s incapable of staying more than two feet away from you. If you stand up, he follows. If you sit down, he sits closer. You'd like to be alone for a moment? Okay, you can be alone together.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He can't keep his hands off you. He's holding your hand, and kissing your knuckles. When you're facing away, Sam wraps his arm around you, pulling you flush against his chest. He'll kiss your hair, and dip his nose into the crook of your neck. "Look at you," he says, amazed.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He fights to hold your attention and scowls at Dean when he tries to talk to you. Jealous? Only if the shoe fits.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Everything you say is gospel. Sam nods along, holding onto each word, trying to decode your mood and gauge your interest in him. He needs you to need him too, you know?

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Eventually, the potion begins to wear off, and he gets really sleepy. His movements are slower, but he still needs to touch you and fight the sleep just to hold your gaze a while longer. "I love you," he says. "I really do."

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ When the potion wears off, Sam is mortified. “God, you must think I'm a total tool. I crossed a line, I know, but," he takes a breath and studies your eyes. "I meant everything. Every word. The potion might have amped me up, but everything else was already there."

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Sam kisses you for the first time without the potion's courage. He isn't hesitant, just cautious of how you feel. One hand wraps around your waist, and the other holds your jaw tenderly. Once he feels you work into the kiss and fall into it, too, he feels his head whir. "Good to know," he grins against your mouth. "Good to know."

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Sammy is so mystical magical ✨️

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒;

"𝐖𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬"

[The Nest – Seconds After]

The witch scrambled backward, blood at her lips, fear finally settling into her blackened eyes.

Cas stood tall in the flickering light of the destroyed room. Wings unfurled in full span. His eyes were glowing — burning. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

The vampires lunged.

And then—

Light.

Blinding, celestial, holy.

The nest screamed — dozens of voices twisted by darkness and sin — and in a flash, they were ash. Not dust. Not smoke.

Ash.

Dean shielded his eyes. Sam turned away, gripping your limp body against his chest.

When the light dimmed, Cas stood in the center of it all. Radiant. Terrifying. Covered in blood that wasn’t his.

“Time to go,” he said, voice trembling with rage and grief.

He placed two fingers against your forehead, then Sam’s, then Dean’s—

Flash.

⸻

[Inside the Impala – Night]

The hum of the engine. The low growl of tires on asphalt.

Dean drove like a man with murder still in his blood. Jaw clenched. Eyes sharp. The borrowed van they’d used to get there sat abandoned at the roadside. He didn’t care. The Impala was faster.

Sam held you carefully in the backseat, your head cradled on his lap. His hands were shaking. There was dried blood on your face, your arms, your torn and destroyed outfit.

“Come on, Y/n,” he whispered. “Stay with me. Please.”

Cas sat beside you, his grace flickering in his hands as he slowly pressed glowing fingers to your chest, your temple, your wrists. Each time he did, a little more of the damage pulled back — skin knitting, bruises fading, but not fast enough.

“She’s slipping,” Sam growled.

“I know,” Cas said. “I’m doing all I can without burning her from the inside.”

“Then do more.”

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror. “How bad?”

“She’s alive,” Cas muttered. “Barely.”

Dean’s knuckles tightened on the wheel. “Then drive faster, Dean,” he told himself. “Drive faster.”

You whimpered once in your sleep. Cas stilled.

“She’s dreaming,” he said. “The witch’s magic lingers in her mind. I can’t remove it—not yet.”

Sam brushed hair from your face. “She’s strong.”

“She shouldn’t have to be,” Cas said softly.

⸻

[Next Morning – Motel Room]

You woke to the scent of coffee.

The hum of an old AC unit. The weight of warm blankets over your aching body.

And pain.

Not the torture. Not the visions. But the after pain — the kind that lived deep in the bones.

You blinked slowly.

The room was quiet. Sam was asleep in the chair beside the bed, head bowed, still holding your hand.

Cas stood at the window, arms crossed, watching the sunrise like it might dare to bring harm to you again.

And Dean… Dean sat at the foot of the bed, eyes red but alert, sipping from a chipped coffee mug. He noticed you stir and leaned in.

“There she is,” he said gently. “How’d you sleep, sweetheart?”

You tried to smile. It almost worked.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” you rasped.

Dean chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You kinda did.”

Sam stirred at the sound of your voice. When he saw you awake, his whole body exhaled.

“Y/n,” he said, voice raw. “God, you scared the hell out of us.”

Cas didn’t turn. “They’re gone,” he said, eyes still on the light. “The nest. The witch. Everything.”

You looked around at them. All three. Silent. Wounded. Fiercely protective.

“Thanks for coming,” you whispered.

Dean raised his brows. “You think we wouldn’t?”

Sam kissed your hand. “Next time, tell me before you go saving the world alone, okay?”

Cas finally turned. “There won’t be a next time,” he said softly.

Not if he could help it.

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑;

"𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝"

[Y/n – The Underground]

The iron chains groaned again as your body jerked under the strike. One vampire held your hair back while another drove a fist into your stomach. The pain had dulled to something molten and deep, almost familiar.

“She’s smiling,” one of them growled.

You were. Barely.

Through swollen lips and blurred vision, you spat blood and whispered, “You’re all dead.”

The third vampire stepped forward — the one who always smiled too wide. “They’re here, aren’t they?”

You didn’t answer.

He grabbed your face, fingers digging into your cheeks. “They won’t make it in time.”

Behind you, the witch emerged again. Her fingers glowed with that sick, green light.

“This time,” she said coldly, “let’s show her what happens after she dies.”

And then—

[Sam – Main Hallway of the Nest]

Sam’s blade sank into the vampire’s chest with a sickening crunch. He twisted it, pulled free, then spun just in time to catch another attacker coming down the hall.

Dean was just behind him, firing round after round of dead man’s blood into anything that moved. Cas stormed ahead, glowing faintly, his angel blade flashing in the dark like lightning.

“Basement!” Cas shouted. “She’s below!”

Sam’s heart dropped at the word she. Not Y/n. Not the woman he kissed beneath motel sheets or watched curl into his side when she was afraid. No — to them, she was prey.

He wouldn’t let them have her.

He. Would. Not.

⸻

[Y/n – The Witch’s Visions]

The pain was nothing now.

Nothing compared to what the witch made you see.

Dean standing over your body, bloodied and shattered. Sam walking away, eyes dark, voice flat — “I told you this would happen.” Cas kneeling beside your corpse, tears streaking his cheeks, wings ripped and torn.

Your parents — laughing with you one second, then screaming in agony the next.

“You’re the curse,” the witch whispered. “You destroy everything you touch.”

“No,” you whispered.

“You know it,” she hissed.

“No.”

“You’ll die alone—”

“I SAID NO!”

You screamed — not from pain, but fury. Raw and blinding.

You yanked hard against the chains until the metal bit your skin. Your wrists bled. Your head pounded. But still you screamed.

Because they were here.

And you were still fighting.

⸻

[Dean – Stairwell to the Basement]

Dean practically threw himself down the stairs, blood splattered across his jaw. “Y/N!”

Cas barreled past him, his voice booming with angelic force. “Let. Her. Go.”

A vampire lunged from the shadows.

Dean drove his machete up through its jaw, snarling, “Not today, asshole.”

Sam caught up, panting. “She’s close. I can hear—"

Another scream. Your scream.

They all froze for one split second.

And then the world turned red.

⸻

[Y/n – Seconds Before the Door Bursts Open]

The witch smiled one last time and placed her hand against your chest. “Let’s see if they still want you after this.”

The visions surged again, faster this time, blurring reality.

Your body trembled violently. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. You barely even heard the distant crash—until the wall exploded.

⸻

[Sam, Dean, Cas – Breach]

The room lit up in chaos.

Dean dove forward first, taking down a vampire with a single, brutal swing. Sam was next — sword flashing as he carved a path to you. Cas’s wings flared, his grace burning bright as he launched straight at the witch, sending her flying into the far wall.

“Y/N!” Sam shouted.

You lifted your head — barely.

Sam reached you first, grabbing the chains and yanking so hard they cracked from the ceiling. He caught you as you fell into him, trembling, bloodied.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered fiercely. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Dean was beside him a second later. “You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re safe now. We’re here.”

Cas hovered nearby, gaze burning with guilt and fury. “They will all die for this.”

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏;

"𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬"

[Y/n – Somewhere beneath the nest]

The chains groaned as you sagged forward, blood slicking your ribs. Your lips were cracked, your breathing shallow, but still… still you were awake.

Still alive.

Every time your eyelids fluttered shut, the visions returned. A carousel of agony, spinning images of Sam bleeding out in your arms, of Dean blaming you with dead eyes, of Cas fading into light and leaving you behind.

The witch had left hours ago. Or maybe minutes. Time had no shape down here.

But your mind — sharp as shattered glass — whispered the truth:

They were coming.

Sam. Dean. Cas.

They were coming for you. They had to be.

Even if part of you was starting to wonder… what if they couldn’t?

⸻

[Sam – Highway, behind the wheel]

Sam’s hands were tight on the steering wheel, his knuckles pale. The road blurred past, but his eyes barely blinked. Dean sat in the passenger seat, shotgun resting across his lap, jaw clenched like steel.

“I should’ve heard something sooner,” Cas said from the backseat, voice strained. “I should’ve sensed her more clearly. I failed her.”

“No,” Dean snapped. “We all did.”

Sam’s eyes didn’t leave the road, but his voice cracked low.

“She had a nightmare that morning. I was awake. She didn’t say anything to me.”

“She didn’t want to worry you,” Cas murmured, almost to himself.

Dean shook his head. “She always does that. Protects everyone but herself.”

There was silence for a beat too long. Then Sam said quietly:

“When we find her… we’re not leaving her side again. Not for a damn second.”

Dean nodded. “No matter what.”

⸻

[Y/n – the basement]

You were half-dreaming again. In the haze, you heard the sound of footsteps — but not real ones. Not yet.

Cas calling your name softly.

Dean whispering, Sweetheart, stay with us.

Sam’s voice, broken, whispering he’d give anything to trade places with you.

You flinched awake when a bucket of ice water hit you square in the chest.

One of the vampires sneered. “Still breathing, huh? Not for long.”

You let out a cough, lips curling. “Aw, and here I thought we were bonding.”

His hand cracked across your face.

You spit blood at his feet. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

⸻

[Dean – abandoned gas station, regroup point]

Dean slammed the car door shut, pacing in the broken parking lot. “We’re losing time!"

“She’s still alive,” Cas said firmly. “I’d know if she wasn’t.”

Sam unfolded the crude map from earlier. “The nest has catacombs underneath. If she’s not in the main house, she’s underground.”

“She’s alone with them,” Dean growled. “And we don’t know what they’ve done to her.”

Cas looked up, eyes flickering with the ghost of grace. “We’ll find her.”

Dean met his eyes. “And when we do… we tear the place apart.”

⸻

[Y/n – the chains]

You didn’t cry. Not anymore.

You hummed instead, softly, the way Dean would when patching you up after a hunt. The way Sam did when you were curled up reading near him. The way Cas would look at you, silently humming warmth into the space around you.

You weren’t gone yet.

Not until you saw them again.

And when you did… someone was going to burn.

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏;

"𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤"

The pain had become background noise.

It pulsed with each heartbeat, each shallow breath, but you’d stopped registering it hours ago — or maybe days. The cold basement was silent again, the vampires gone, the bulb above you now casting long, eerie shadows on the cracked walls.

Blood trickled from your temple. Your shirt was torn, your face swollen and raw, your body strung up like a warning. But your spirit? Bruised, not broken.

The creaking door at the top of the stairs groaned open.

You stirred, barely lifting your head. Another one?

No. Not just another vampire.

This one moved like oil — smooth, slow, purposeful. A woman stepped down the stairs, long dark hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes glowing faintly gold beneath a hood.

A witch.

You felt the air shift. You straightened slightly in the chains despite the agony slicing through your shoulders.

“Well, you’re definitely not DoorDash,” you muttered. “Unless you’ve got a burger and a side of holy water.”

She smiled softly. Pityingly.

“Y/n,” she said, her voice like silk soaked in venom. “They asked me to break you. But I think… you’ll do most of that yourself.”

Your stomach turned. “Oh, great. You’re the therapy session from hell, aren’t you?”

She stepped close, her hand rising to brush two fingers along your forehead.

“Let’s see what you fear most.”

And then the world went black.

⸻

The Visions

The chains vanished. So did the basement.

You were standing in the Bunker’s war room. Empty. Silent.

You turned — and saw Dean. Blood pouring down his chest, eyes hollow, skin pale. He reached for you with trembling fingers.

“Why didn’t you save me, Y/n?”

Your breath caught.

You blinked — and the scene changed.

Now Sam. Face contorted in pain, his body twisted on the ground, soaked in his own blood.

“You chose him over me,” he whispered.

“No—” you croaked, tears welling. “No, I didn’t.”

Cas now. Eyes burning with light, wings torn and smoking. “You were supposed to be mine to protect.”

“Cas, please—”

Then your family.

Your childhood home on fire. Your parents screaming inside. Your younger self on the porch, helpless. Screaming.

“Make it stop!” you shouted, falling to your knees. “STOP!”

But the visions kept shifting — twisting love into grief, loyalty into betrayal. The boys turning on you. Killing each other. Leaving you behind.

“You’re a curse, Y/n,” the witch’s voice echoed in your head. “Everything you love dies.”

You screamed. Loud, raw, broken.

⸻

Back in the basement, your body thrashed in the chains. Blood streaked your cheeks as your voice echoed through the stone room, hoarse from shouting.

The witch finally stepped back, her expression calm, almost bored. “She’s ready,” she said over her shoulder to a vampire in the shadows. “Or she will be soon.”

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎;

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫"

The farmhouse was burning. Smoke poured through broken windows as Sam yanked Dean out of the wreckage, both coughing and covered in blood and ash. Castiel appeared beside them in a flutter of wings, his coat torn, his jaw clenched tight.

“She’s still in there,” Sam growled, eyes wild.

Dean’s fists shook at his sides. “We had no choice. They would’ve killed us, and we wouldn’t have been able to help her at all.”

Castiel’s voice was low, edged with guilt. “They’ve taken her underground. I can’t sense her exact location, but… she’s alive.”

Dean turned sharply. “Then we get her back.”

Sam nodded, already pulling out his phone to pull up blueprints of the farmhouse’s layout. “We make a plan. We go back tonight. And we don’t leave without Y/n.”

⸻

The Vampire Cellar

You came to slowly, pain blooming through your ribs and your face like fire. Everything hurt — your arms especially, stretched above your head, your wrists chained and bloodied from the iron cuffs that held you suspended from the ceiling. Your toes barely scraped the floor.

The basement was cold, lit by a flickering bulb that swung above you like some twisted metronome. You blinked against the sting in your eyes.

Footsteps echoed.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart,” a low, oily voice said. A tall vampire stepped into view, shirt stained with your blood, a smile playing on his cracked lips.

You lifted your head, a slow smirk tugging the corner of your mouth despite the bruises.

“Jesus,” you rasped, voice raw. “Is this your version of hospitality? ‘Cause I’ve had worse hangovers.”

Another punch — this time to your stomach — knocked the air out of you. You coughed, then laughed, your voice hoarse.

“Wow. That all you’ve got? I’ve had tougher sparring with Dean when he’s half-drunk.”

The vampire sneered. “You’ve got a smart mouth for someone hanging like meat.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, coughing blood, “sorry if I’m not impressed by your whole cryptic villain monologue thing. You guys really haven’t changed since the 1800s, huh?”

He growled, grabbing your jaw. “You’ll be begging for death soon.”

You grinned despite the ache. “Yeah? Get in line. I’m already booked tonight.”

He slammed you against the chain. Pain flared up your spine, but you bit your lip to keep from screaming. You refused to give them that.

And somewhere deep in the haze, through the blood and bruises, your heart held onto one thing:

Sam, Dean, and Castiel were coming.

And hell was coming with them.

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗;

"𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞"

The black SUV rumbled down the empty stretch of highway, its headlights slicing through early evening haze. Sam was behind the wheel, focused. Castiel sat in the passenger seat, quiet as usual, but stealing glances in the rearview to check on you.

You leaned against the back seat window, fingers loosely laced in your lap, watching the trees blur past. The tension had been thick for most of the ride — not uncomfortable, but charged. Unspoken things left hanging in the air since the motel room.

When the old gas station Dean had mentioned came into view, Sam slowed. Parked near the far edge of the lot, under the orange flicker of a broken streetlamp, was the Impala. Dean leaned against the hood, arms crossed, looking like he hadn’t slept — but still managing to smirk when he spotted you.

You barely had time to open the car door before he pushed off the hood and crossed the distance in a few long strides.

“There she is,” he said, his voice warm and full of relief.

You stepped into his arms, and he wrapped you up tightly, arms pressing around your waist as if he needed proof that you were safe and real.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured into your hair.

You smiled against his chest. “It’s only been a day.”

“Still too long.”

He pulled back only slightly, hands still on your sides, eyes scanning you — making sure you were really okay. When he was finally satisfied, he looked over your shoulder and nodded at Sam and Cas.

“Let’s move. Sun’s going down.”

⸻

The abandoned farmhouse stood crooked and silent at the end of a dirt road, swallowed by trees and half-eaten by time. You all approached from the east, keeping low, weapons ready. Sam had his machete. Dean loaded a sawed-off wooden stake. Castiel walked silently at your side, one hand always close to his blade.

You tightened your grip on your weapon. The air smelled like rot and wet wood.

“Three inside,” Cas said, voice low. “Maybe more in the basement.”

Dean looked at you. “You okay?”

You nodded, adrenaline already warming your limbs. “Let’s do it.”

The front door creaked open. The fight began.

Everything was a blur — snarling vampires with yellowed teeth, fists slamming against flesh, bones cracking, wails of pain, hisses from vampires, blades slicing through air. You moved like instinct, back to back with Sam at one point, ducking as Dean swung wide to take out a bloodsucker just inches from your shoulder.

But just as quickly, it turned.

A blur of movement. Arms grabbed you from behind — cold, iron-strong. You gasped, struggling, but your weapon fell from your hand and clattered to the floor.

“Y/n!” Sam’s voice tore through the room.

You were dragged backward, toward the basement stairs.

Dean lunged, but another vamp intercepted him, slamming him hard into the wall. Castiel reached for you — eyes glowing with fury — but a warded door slammed shut between you before he could get to you.

Then everything went dark.

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖;

"𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬"

The quiet hum of the bathroom fan was the only sound as you stood in front of the mirror, pulling your sweater over your head. The warm fabric settled against your skin as you stared at your own reflection—sleep still lingering in your eyes, hair still slightly damp from the shower. You looked okay. You didn’t feel okay.

But that was normal.

You stepped back into the hotel room, lit now by the soft blue-grey glow of early morning. Outside, the streets were still hushed. Inside, Sam stirred first.

He shifted beneath the covers, eyes fluttering open before settling on you as you walked back into the room, tugging your sleeves into place.

“Hey,” he said, voice thick with sleep but already filled with concern. “You’re up early.”

You offered a small smile. “Didn’t sleep great.”

He sat up slowly, expression tightening as he reached for the hoodie at the foot of the bed. “Nightmare?”

You nodded once. Sam’s brow furrowed. “You should’ve woken me up. I would’ve— I mean, I could’ve helped you calm down."

The gentleness in his voice curled around your chest like a safety net. You wanted to fall into it. But instead, you shrugged lightly, still standing near the bed. “You needed the sleep. Both of you did.”

“I didn’t,” came Castiel’s voice behind him — steady, unshaken.

He sat upright now too, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “I felt your fear, Y/n. You were in pain.”

You swallowed. There was no hiding from Castiel, not really. “It passed,” you said softly. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Sam said, already on his feet, pulling on his jeans. “You never would.”

Castiel’s voice stayed low, steady. “Your pain is never a disturbance.”

You didn’t answer, because you weren’t sure how to. So instead, you grabbed your bag from the corner of the room and started packing up the few things you’d scattered around the night before.

Before anyone could say more, Sam’s phone buzzed against the nightstand. He grabbed it quickly, saw the caller ID, and sighed.

“It’s Dean.”

He answered, putting it on speaker as he set it down. Dean’s voice cut in immediately, all early-morning rasp and sarcasm.

“Jesus, did you three finally crawl out of that motel bed or what?”

Sam smirked. “We’re up."

“Cas, you there?”

“I’m here,” Castiel answered.

There was a pause.

Then Dean’s voice softened the way it only did when he wasn’t thinking too hard about it. “Y/n?"

You stepped closer to the phone. “Yeah. I’m here.”

Dean let out a breath, like he’d been waiting just to hear your voice. “There she is. How’d you sleep, sweetheart?”

Your lips twitched. “I’ve had better nights.”

“Mm. You tell those two knuckleheads to take care of you or I’ll put ‘em both in the trunk.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “She’s in good hands.”

Dean snorted. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice, but there was something underneath it too — something real. Possessive, but laced with care.

“You three heading out soon?” he added.

“We’re packing now,” Sam said, already slipping on his jacket.

“I’ll meet you outside the nest around dusk. Be careful.”

The line clicked off.

Castiel stood now, his coat already on, eyes still following you. You turned away for a second to zip your duffel, heart fluttering under the weight of three men who’d each look at you like they’d take a bullet — and maybe already had.

There was warmth here, sure. But the tension sat just beneath it like something alive, growing in the silence between what was said and what wasn’t.

You took one last glance around the hotel room, then turned to them.

“Ready?”

Sam nodded, grabbing the keys. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

And just like that, you stepped into another day — the weight of the night still tucked somewhere in your chest, but their presence at your back like a shield.

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕;

"𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬"

You woke with a gasp.

Heart pounding. Chest tight. The dream already fading—blood, teeth, the feeling of being chased through a forest that never ended.

You sat up slowly, hands gripping the edge of the blanket.

And then… stillness.

The morning light was just beginning to peek through the curtains, casting soft gold across the bed. The room was quiet, except for the low hum of the heater and the slow, steady breathing of the two men asleep beside you.

Sam was on your left, one arm curled up under the pillow, the other resting just barely across the middle of the bed—like he’d reached for you in his sleep. His hair was tousled, lips parted, a faint line between his brows that somehow made him look both peaceful and like he was still solving a case in his dreams.

Castiel was on your right, lying on his side facing you. His face was calm, almost unnaturally so—like an angel couldn’t be anything but composed, even unconscious. One hand was near yours, just close enough that your fingers could have touched if you moved an inch.

You stayed still.

Just watching them.

Letting yourself have a moment you knew neither of them would catch.

Sam, all quiet warmth and stubborn loyalty. Castiel, all stillness and silent intensity. And you, somehow suspended between both—caught in the eye of the storm you’d willingly walked into.

You whispered to the room, “What the hell am I doing?”

Neither of them stirred.

You gave it one more minute—just one—to let your pulse settle. Then you carefully slipped out from under the covers, moving slow to avoid waking them. The floor was cold against your feet as you crossed to your bag and pulled out fresh clothes, keeping your movements quiet and deliberate.

You showered quickly, steam filling the small bathroom. The nightmare still clung to the edges of your thoughts, but it wasn’t winning. Not today.

By the time you emerged dressed and towel-drying your hair, the room still hadn’t changed.

They were still asleep.

Still facing where you had been.

And for one, strange second, you let yourself wonder what would’ve happened if you’d stayed between them just a little longer.

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔;

"𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐧𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬"

The motel office smelled like burnt coffee and dust, and the guy behind the counter looked like he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since 1993.

Sam handled the check-in while you stood beside Castiel, arms crossed, trying very hard not to let your eyes drift toward him too often. You still hadn’t said anything about what you overheard. Not yet.

“Weird vibe,” you whispered to Cas.

“I believe the front desk attendant is possessed by apathy,” he replied without missing a beat.

You smirked. “Dangerous.”

Sam returned, holding a plastic keycard and wearing a very specific expression: tight-lipped, slightly amused, and not exactly thrilled.

“Good news,” he said. “They had a room left.”

“And the bad news?” you asked.

“One bed.”

You blinked. “One?”

“King-sized,” Sam added quickly. “Big enough for… all of us. Probably.”

Castiel tilted his head. “That’s not a problem. I do not require much space.”

Sam gave him a look. “Yeah, that’s not really the issue, Cas.”

You sighed and grabbed the key. “Come on. I’m too tired to pretend this is awkward.”

Except… it was awkward. Kind of.

⸻

The room wasn’t terrible. Faded wallpaper, a buzzing lamp in the corner, and a bed that looked a little too clean for a place this old. You dropped your bag and made a beeline for the bathroom to wash off the road dust and the lingering emotional whiplash from the car ride.

By the time you came back out in a sleep shirt and shorts, Sam had changed into sweats and a tee, barefoot, sitting on the edge of the bed checking his phone. Castiel was still fully dressed, trench coat draped over the back of a chair, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the veins in his forearms.

You swallowed.

“So,” Sam said casually, glancing up. “What’s the sleep situation?”

“I’ll take the middle,” you offered quickly.

Castiel blinked. “Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of—?”

“I’m comfortable with it,” you interrupted, climbing into bed before either of them could argue.

Sam gave a slow sigh and got in on one side, Castiel on the other, moving carefully like he was afraid of doing it wrong. The mattress dipped under their weight, warmth pressing in on both sides of you.

For a long moment, no one said anything.

Then Sam cleared his throat. “Tomorrow we’ll look over the town records. If this nest is as big as Cas says, there’ll be signs—missing persons, exsanguination patterns—”

“We should also check dental records,” Castiel added. “And any property rentals near the forest edge.”

“Yeah. Good call."

You lay still between them, staring at the ceiling.

Everything felt normal. Like you were just three people sharing a room to save cash. But your heart was pounding, and you could feel them both—warm, solid, close.

It wasn’t normal. Not for you.

Not after what you’d heard.

Still, you closed your eyes. Let your body rest. You’d confront it later. Tomorrow.

When your mind stopped racing.

When you were ready.

Maybe.

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓;

"𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬"

The road stretched ahead in a dark, endless ribbon of cracked asphalt and pine trees. The Impala was out of commission, so Sam had borrowed a black SUV from a hunter friend—unremarkable, quiet, and just roomy enough for three.

You were curled up in the backseat under Sam’s flannel, body finally giving in to exhaustion. Between the Wendigo fight, Dean’s call, and Castiel materializing in your motel room like some trench coat-wrapped emotional grenade, your brain had officially tapped out.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep. But you did.

And you didn’t mean to wake up like that, either—eyes still shut, body still, but mind alert.

It was the soft murmur of voices up front that stirred you. Quiet enough they must’ve thought you were out cold.

You stayed still. Just for a minute.

Just to listen.

⸻

“…you’ve been staring at her through the mirror for the last two hours,” Sam said, his voice low but not accusing.

There was a pause.

“I’m not staring,” Castiel replied evenly. “I’m watching over her.”

Sam gave a small laugh, not unkind. “Yeah, sure. That’s what this is."

Another beat of silence stretched between them.

“You have feelings for her.”

“I… don’t know what they are,” Cas said finally. “Only that when she’s near, I feel more human. More aware. And when she’s in danger—”

“You lose it,” Sam finished.

You could hear the shift in Sam’s tone. Not angry. Not jealous. More like… understanding. Reluctant, maybe.

“She’s not just under your protection, Cas,” he continued. “She’s with me. And Dean. It’s complicated.”

“I know,” Castiel said. “But I don’t wish to disrupt it. I only wish to be near her.”

There was a heavy pause after that.

Then Sam sighed.

“She makes people feel like that. Makes you want to be better, closer. Makes you want to protect her even when you know she doesn’t need it."

You felt your heart twist.

“I worry,” Cas said. “That I’ve crossed a line.”

Sam was quiet for a long moment. Then: “Just… don’t keep it all locked up. Especially not from her."

You felt a wave of guilt settle over your chest. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but now that you had—you couldn’t shake the weight of their words. Castiel’s voice hadn’t wavered once. And Sam… he knew. He knew, and he still said it with kindness.

You drifted back into sleep before you could process it all, the rhythm of the road humming softly beneath you.

⸻

You woke to the SUV slowing down, headlights illuminating the small wooden sign that read:

Welcome to Pine Crest – Population 673

The town was quiet. Still. Too still.

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up, blanket slipping off your shoulders.

Sam looked over his shoulder at you. “Hey. You’re up.”

Castiel turned to glance at you too, his expression unreadable—but his eyes lingered a second longer than they needed to.

You offered a sleepy smile. “Guess I slept through the fun.”

“Plenty of fun still ahead,” Sam said grimly, pulling into the empty motel parking lot.

You yawned and stretched. “Can’t wait.”

But your mind was still back on the road—on Sam’s quiet voice, and Castiel’s quiet confession.

And now you had a whole new kind of complication waiting in the dark.

[dumbbutadorable]

᪥𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕᪥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒;

"𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬"

Sam was lying back against the headboard again, legs tangled with yours under the blanket, while Dean’s voice still crackled through the speakerphone. The conversation had gone from serious to flirtatious to downright ridiculous in less than five minutes.

“—I’m just saying,” Dean was saying, “if I was there, you wouldn’t even be awake right now.”

You smirked. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t be the one wearing you out.”

Sam coughed into a laugh, and Dean made a low, appreciative noise through the speaker. “God, I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you said softly.

Sam’s fingers were tracing lazy circles on your thigh, trying to act casual, but you knew him too well. He was quiet, watching you, thinking. Always thinking.

And then the air changed.

The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees.

You felt it before you saw it—the low hum of celestial power curling down your spine. Sam sat up straighter instinctively.

Then, with a soft flutter of wings, Castiel appeared at the foot of the bed.

Wearing that same damned trench coat, brow furrowed in his usual stoic concern, blue eyes fixed on you with laser intensity.

Sam blinked. “Cas?”

You scrambled a little, tugging the blanket up. “Cas! Warn a girl before popping in, maybe?”

Dean’s voice crackled from the phone. “Wait—Cas is there? In the room?”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Apologies. But this is urgent.”

You groaned and muttered under your breath. “It’s always urgent with you angels.”

His head tilted just slightly at your tone. “I wouldn’t disturb you unless it was important.”

You met his eyes, and something passed between you—heavy, unspoken. Sam caught it. Dean probably heard it in your silence.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, more serious now.

“There’s a vampire nest,” Castiel said, stepping closer. “Five hours north. Small town near the Canadian border. Seven of them. They’re feeding nightly.”

“Seven?” you echoed. “That’s not a nest. That’s a buffet.”

Castiel nodded. “We need to leave immediately.”

Dean’s voice came sharp over the phone. “Hold up. You’re sending her and Sam into that before I get back?”

“I’m not sending her anywhere,” Castiel said, his eyes never leaving you. “But she’s not just a hunter. She’s under my protection. And I go where she does.”

Sam raised a brow. “You’re coming with us?”

Castiel didn’t answer at first. His gaze shifted slightly—almost softening when he looked back at you.

“I won’t let anything happen to her.”

You felt your cheeks burn. That was new. Intense, even for Cas.

Dean must’ve heard the silence.

“Oh, hell no,” Dean said. “Did he just—? Is he into you?”

“Dean,” you warned, but Castiel didn’t flinch.

“I’m her guardian,” he said simply, but the weight behind it was too heavy. Too personal.

Dean groaned. “This is getting out of hand.”

Sam just sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Welcome to my world.”

You stood, pulling on your jacket. “Look, we don’t have time to unpack this right now. Nest full of vamps, remember?”

Castiel stepped aside to let you pass, but when your shoulder brushed his, he looked down at you like he wanted to say something—needed to.

You didn’t have time to ask.

“I’ll call you when we get close,” you told Dean, grabbing your bag. “Try not to kill anyone while we’re gone.”

“No promises,” he muttered. “And tell Cas to keep his celestial hands to himself.”

You smirked at Castiel. “You heard the man.”

“I did,” Cas said quietly. “But I don’t always listen.”