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[carryonwaywardkansas]

Hi! I just wanted to ask if you were going to continue the "Carry on Kansas" series. I loved how you rewrote the series!💕

Slowly but surely. I don’t have a concrete timeline. I just post when I post. Thank you for reading and enjoying it. Please comment and spread it around!!

[carryonwaywardkansas]

I’m excited to see what you think about the rest of it!! This is only the beginning. Thanks for reading x

Carry On Kansas

Chapter One: What Riley Saw

Summary: After the party to celebrate Sam's success, Dean shows up late on Halloween night to ask for his help; Riley sneaks out to join them.

Warnings: General supernatural warnings apply. Read at your own discretion.

A/N: Restarting this baby. Welcome. Enjoy the ride.

“Hey, Riles. You made it!” Sam exclaims, pulling the young woman in for a hug.

Riley chuckles, returning Sam’s warm embrace. Jessica forced him to attend the Halloween party that evening, and he wasn’t too thrilled with the idea. She tried convincing Riley to go, but the twenty-year-old politely declined the invitation. But in exchange for crashing on their couch, Riley agreed to meet them for drinks afterward to celebrate Sam passing his LSAT.

He tried telling her the sentiment was appreciated, though unnecessary, but she told him she would be there after running home to change. And much to Jessica’s approval, Riley dressed up for the occasion. Sam, on the other hand, blatantly refused.

“I told you I’d be here,” Riley says, laughing as she takes the open seat to Sam’s right.

“Zombie Tinkerbell. You, uh―you weren’t kidding,” he observes.

She wears a strapless light green dress that stops above her knees, matching heels that she glued small white bows onto, and stage makeup done to resemble a decaying corpse. To complete her horrifying take on one of Disney’s beloved fairies, Riley fashioned Tinkerbell’s wings with a large bite taken out of the left one.

She smiles proudly at her handiwork as Sam shakes his head. He, of course, can’t wrap his mind around Jessica and Riley’s excitement for the spooky autumn holiday; he really didn’t want to come out tonight but whatever made his girlfriend happy, he is more than willing to do. And it isn’t as if he’s alone in his misery―no, Riley Thomas hates parties as much as Sam Winchester hates Halloween.

“Ah. But you see, I never kid about dressing up for Halloween, Chewie,” she says. She reaches over to lightly pat him on the cheek, then adds, “I just hate parties.”

Sam snorts. “When are you going to quit calling me Chewbacca?”

She hums. “When you quit being so friggen’ giant.”

A moment of serene bliss passes between the duo, accented by the sparkling of Riley’s eyes and the dimpling of Sam’s cheeks. A scene that to anyone else would appear rather intimate, but to them is simply an ordinary day in the life of two of Stanford’s finest. Caught somewhere between wanting to escape the madness around them and not wanting to incur Jessica’s wrath, they swallow down their discomfort and join the festivities as Luis approaches with two more rounds of shots.

Jessica picks up two of the eight shot glasses on the tray and hands one to Riley, then waits patiently while Sam and Luis grab their own. They raise their glasses in celebration and throw back their drinks.

The blonde gently nudges the younger woman’s shoulder. “Riley, tell Sam to quit being so modest when it comes to his achievements. He deserves to brag every now and then. He’ll listen to you.”

The statement, while true, causes Riley to bristle a bit. Though she never comes right out and says so to her face, Jessica isn’t shy about her feelings concerning her boyfriend’s friendship with Riley.

Riley casts her eyes to the table. She absently plays with the straw wrapper laying amid discarded napkins and paper boats from the group’s earlier appetizers. She looks up at Sam with a soft smile and a barely noticeable nod of her head. “It’s okay to be proud of yourself, Sam. Healthy, even. You’ve got a full ride to law school, it doesn’t get better than that.”

“I haven’t gotten it yet, Riles,” Sam says, shaking his head.

Riley shrugs. “No. But you will.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. What are you drinking tonight? On me.”

“I’m a big girl, Winchester. You don’t have to buy my drinks. Besides, we’re celebrating you tonight. And you hate Halloween.”

“True. But you hate parties and this place is packed. Come on, at least let me buy you one drink.”

“Well, as long as you’re buying. . .scotch on the rocks?” Riley gives Sam her best beaming smile.

He chuckles. “I know that look. What else?”

“Side of garlic fries, please!” she adds with a giggle.

“You got it. Thanks for coming out tonight, Tink.” Sam stands from his stool and wraps an arm around Riley’s shoulders before heading back to the bar. Between Riley and Jessica, there is always something going on to keep him guessing, keep him on his toes. He has a great life at Stanford.

Riley startles awake. The unexpected cold sensation on her shoulder violently pulls her from what was turning into a fitful slumber. She blinks her eyes open and looks around, it takes a couple minutes before she recognizes where she is―the ugly plaid couch in Sam and Jessica’s apartment. Her memories of earlier that night filter back in slowly and she groans, her head hurts. Riley sits up and runs her hands through her dark hair; she notices the light across the room had and wonders what in God’s name she slept through. Jessica is walking back through the kitchen to the hallway as the fog finally clears from Riley’s mind.

“Hey, Jess. You good?”

“Riley, shit. Those idiots didn’t wake you, did they?” Jessica asks softly. She takes a seat on the couch next to her friend, nervously looking toward the door and back.

Riley shakes her head. “No, I just woke up. What idiots?”

Jessica sighs, relieved. “Oh, just, uh. . .S-Sam, and his brother.”

“Dean’s here?”

“Yeah, they were outside talking. Sam’s packing right now, said his dad’s been out too long on a hunting trip at the family cabin and Dean came by to ask for his help,” Jessica answers. She pushes her blonde curls over her shoulder and gestures vaguely toward their bedroom. “I wanted to stay up until Sam came back in, but he insists on going with his brother. So, I’m going back to bed. How’s your head?”

“Mm, pounding. Remind me never to drink that much with Sam and Luis ever again, please?”

Jessica snorts, and shakes her head with a soft laugh. She stands up and heads for the bathroom. “Oh, no. That’s all on you, Riles. I’ll grab an aspirin for you. Maybe see if you can talk Sam into staying?”

Riley hums. She’s used to being employed as a deterrent for whatever crazy thing Sam is intent on doing next, he listens to her. Sometimes. But the knowledge that his brother is in town and needs his help locating their father, well, that piques her interest. She knows, of course, what hunting at the cabin really means. Well, she knows enough.

Sam walks down the hallway with a bag packed and slung over his shoulder, he’s clearly ready to go and Riley knows she only has so much time to try and convince him not to run off with Dean. He crosses the living room and sits down next to her.

“I guess you heard I’m heading out with Dean for the weekend. Shouldn’t be gone long, I’ll be back before my interview on Monday.” Riley remains silent which prompts Sam to reassure her that he and Dean have everything under control. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I promise I’ll be back before Monday. But, uh, Jess is probably gonna ask questions. She knows I talk to you more than anyone else, including her. Just make sure she doesn’t freak out too much, alright? I’ll call you guys from the road when we’re on our way back.”

Riley looks up at Sam with pleading gunmetal eyes, a look that’s taken the younger Winchester two years to be able to withstand. She holds her hands in her lap, fidgeting with the blanket laid out over her legs. “Sammy, I. . .”

Riley never calls him by his nickname unless something is bothering her, and it’s been months since the last time she did. “Riles, what is it? What’s bothering you?”

“I just think it would be best if you sit this one out, you know? Especially with your interview coming up. You can’t risk not making it home in time for that,” she says slowly, hoping he won’t catch the uncertainty in her voice.

She isn’t sure how to tell him what she felt, what she saw without giving him more of a reason to worry about her. And if he really is going through with helping his brother, then he can’t afford to be splitting his focus between them and home.

“Sit this one out? You know I can’t do that, Riley,” Sam says sternly.

“But why not, Sam? You said it yourself before, they had so many opportunities to contact you and they never did. I get that you left and that pissed your dad off or whatever, but communication is a two-way street.”

“Look, I can’t have this conversation with you right now. I gotta go. I’ll see you on Monday, all right?”

Riley watches with bitter regret sinking in the pit of her stomach as Sam grabs his bag and leaves. Jessica asked her to do one thing and she couldn’t follow through. More than that, she lied to her best friend about why she was really fighting for him to stay home.

She can’t tell Jessica the truth, and she can’t tell Sam either. Instead, she grabs her overnight bag from its spot on the floor in front of the couch, quickly pens a note to Jessica saying she’ll make sure Sam gets home in time for Monday, then climbs out of the same window Dean had climbed in an hour ago. If she can’t convince Sam not to go, she’ll just convince him to let her go with them.

Taglist: @iwantthedean

[carryonwaywardkansas]

Carry On Kansas

Chapter Two: Bend and Break (Part Four)

Summary: The following day it’s a face off like Riley Thomas has never seen before.

Warnings: General Supernatural warnings apply. Read at your own discretion.

A/N: anybody have Dean Winchester shamelessly flirting on their 2022 bingo cards?

Morning arrives unhindered. Riley wakes with ease, nestled in the soft space at Deanʼs back. She doesnʼt remember how she got there, or why he let her stay, but sheʼs grateful all the same. Sam hasnʼt said a word since the brothersʼ return to the campsite, only offering disinterested nods of his head when asked if heʼs all right. Riley chooses to ignore the sound of her heart breaking in favour of channeling the bitterness into her tracking skills.

Neither one moves at first, whether it’s because they don’t want the other to know they’re awake or because they’re content to lay in each other’s presence, Riley isn’t sure. Whatever it is, she’s sad when the moment ends and Dean rises for the day.

She watches him pace back and forth behind Hailey and Ben who have finally woken; their fears and anxieties over what waits for the day ahead, making it difficult for the siblings to sleep. Riley’s heart aches for them, as well as the brothers. She hasn’t spoken to Sam.

Hailey sits on her knees outside of Tommy’s abandoned tent, Riley’s suggestion floats through her mind as she addresses Dean for the first time that morning. “I don't― I mean, these types of things― they aren’t supposed to be real.”

“I wish I could tell you different,” Dean says. Riley can see by the look on his face, it’s an earnest answer.

“How do we know it’s not out there watching us?” she asks.

“We don’t,” he says, squatting down next to her. He glances over his shoulder at Riley. She tries not to think about the way he’s looking at her―like they share a secret between them that he feels burdened with. “But we’re safe for now.”

I gave him that burden, she thinks, dropping her eyes to the ground.

“How do you know about this stuff?” Hailey asks him. And Riley tries to ignore the strange pull in her chest. She told her to go for it, after all.

She sees Dean pause and wants to change the subject if only so that stupid smile will return. . .

“It kind of runs in the family,” he says, looking up into Hailey’s eyes before standing up as Sam enters the middle of the campsite.

“Hey,” Sam greets. He spent the night keeping watch on the other side of the site, refusing to face Riley or his brother once they returned. Riley didn’t ask why.

Sam. They haven’t spoken since their fight yesterday. She doesn’t even want to at this point, but she’s stuck in the woods in the middle of nowhere and her options for good conversation are limited. She sure as hell doesn’t want to watch Dean flirt with Hailey all day. But making nice with Sam is even less appealing than that.

“So, we’ve got half a chance in the daylight,” the younger Winchester says. “And I, for one. . .want to kill this evil son of a bitch.” Sam is changing right in front of her and she doesn’t know how to process it all.

“Well, hell, you know I’m in.” Dean smirks at his baby brother and Riley wonders if he knew this was coming. He hands Sam their dad’s journal and crosses the campsite to sit next to Riley. “So,” he begins, “you wanna tell me why you’re sittin’ here alone, staring daggers at the back of my brother’s head?”

“Because he’s stupid,” she signs, never taking her eyes off Sam’s back. She doesn’t consider that Dean has no clue what she’s saying, just continues with her rant all the while imagining punching her best friend in the face. Her hands move quickly, her face twists in anger, and Dean continues to sit. “He left me alone in the woods. He keeps leaving me. He left on my birthday, he left on Halloween, he left when Jess died. . . He blames me and I. . .”

Riley clenches her hands into fists; Dean stays silent. He doesn’t know what she’s saying but he recognizes the pain in her eyes.

He doesn’t say anything, just takes hold of her hands and begins changing the bandages on her burns. They look better, much better. When he’s done, he gently pats her knee and waits for her to face him. That’s one thing Riley gives him credit for that Sam doesn’t do: he gets her attention before he speaks, even with her hearing aids in. “It’s okay, you can hate him,” he chuckles.

Riley blinks a moment, then smiles. “I don’t,” she answers. They both know she’s lying.

“You do, but I won’t tell him.”

“You are a pain in my ass, Winchester.”

“If that’s what you want me to be, Sweetheart,” he winks.

She shakes her head, shoving his shoulder. Laughing with Dean feels good.

“Come on, you need to hear this, too.”

Riley lets Dean pull her up and lead her back to the group. She tries to ignore the weight of his hand in hers, tries to focus on listening to the information Sam’s giving but all she can think about at the moment is how calming Dean’s presence is.

“Wendigo is a Cree Indian word. It means, ‘Evil that devours.’”

“They’re hundreds of years old,” Dean says. “Each one was once a man, sometimes an Indian or other times a frontiersman or a miner or hunter.”

“How’s a man turn into one of those things?” Hailey asks, skeptical of the situation before them.

“Well, is always the same. During some harsh winter, a guy finds himself starving, cut off from supplies or help ― becomes a cannibal to survive, eating the other members of his tribe or camp.”

“Like the Donner party,” Ben says, speaking for the first time since they arrived.

“That’s right,” Sam affirms. “Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities ― speed, strength, immortality.”

Dean looks past Sam’s shoulder to where Riley stands just behind him. “If you eat enough of it, over years, you become this less-than-human thing. You’re always hungry.”

Riley notes the piece of cloth in Dean’s hands along with the two bottles he picked up moments before, she raises her eyebrows at him, though she’s positive she knows what he’s doing. From research she’s done on her own surrounding ancient tribal mythology and lore, she knows the only way to kill a wendigo is with fire. And, if her knowledge of the brothers from her time with them proves correct, Dean’s in the process of making Molotov cocktails.

“So, if that’s true, how can Tommy still be alive?” Hailey wonders.

Dean looks to Sam who nods, then turns back to the young woman. “You’re not gonna like it,” he warns.

“Tell me,” she orders.

“More than anything, a Wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time. When it’s awake, it keeps its victims alive. It, uh, stores them so it can feed whenever it wants. If your brother’s alive, it’s keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, and safe. And we gotta track it back there.”

“And then how do we stop it?”

“Well, guns are useless ― so are knives. Basically. . .” Dean moves behind them, holding up the items he gathered from around the campsite. His eyes meet Riley’s and he nods, telling her that her assumptions are correct. “We gotta torch the sucker.”

Riley follows along silently. Dean and Hailey head up the front of the group and Riley’s nerves tingle beneath her skin, she knows what’s coming even if the others don’t. Before leaving the campsite, she and Dean discussed what to do in the event her premonitions come to pass ― his instructions have left her feeling weary. Sam hasn’t noticed.

In the weeks that have passed, she’s come to trust Dean more than she thought possible considering their rather tense introduction to one another. Dean gets her in ways Sam doesn’t, effortlessly and without restraint. They’ve settled into an unspoken routine, Riley and Dean, and she isn’t sure what it means. So far, though, it seems to work.

“Dean,” Sam calls after they’ve been walking through the woods for a few miles and have nothing to show for it. He stands near a group of trees, all marked with claw scratches and dried blood.

“What is it?”

A chill runs down Riley’s spine. She turns around and comes face to face with an apparition of Dean, her breath catches in her throat. What does this thing want with you, Dean? She’s too engrossed in the vision of Dean’s ghost to hear the growling that surrounds the clearing.

“Too easy. . .” she mumbles. “This was too easy.”

Hailey lets out an ear-piercing scream, Riley’s hearing aids whine and she rushes to turn the volume down. She whirls around to see the others backed against a tree, Roy’s body on the ground before them.

“Dean! It’s happening!” Riley runs to his side. “The Wendigo, it led us here. It’s trying to pick us off!”

Sam’s voice sounds in her ear, “Wait, you knew about this?”

“Not now, Sam,” she scolds.

“Run, run! Go, go, go, go, go!” Dean fumbles behind him for Riley’s hand and catches her wrist, he pulls her with him and doesn’t look back.

Riley isn’t sure where Dean’s leading her, she isn’t sure she wants to ask. They crash through the trees, and she can’t see Sam or Hailey or Ben. This is exactly what she was afraid of ― it knew exactly how to lure them out to get what it wants. Staying together is their only chance at survival but Riley knows something horrible will happen before then.

Dean speeds up and her wrist slips from his hold, she runs after him. They crest over a small incline and she feels the ground behind her shake, glancing over her shoulder, she finds Dean on the ground.

“Get up, get up, get up!” She grabs for his arm and yanks him up. “Hailey,” she says.

His eyes sweep over her face, and he almost reaches out to touch her cheek. “Short Stack, find Sam and Ben. Stay with them, you know what to do.”

“But Dean,” she protests.

“Riley, go! Sweetheart, I will find you when this is all over,” he promises.

She nods. “Not if I find you first, Winchester.”

She runs in the direction she last saw Sam. I won’t let it take you, too. “Sam!”

“Riley!”

“Sammy!”

Much like yesterday, Riley crashes into something hard. It knocks the breath from her lungs; she staggers backwards, but a hand at her back keeps her from falling. Sam.

Hailey’s scream cuts through the air. Riley bristles. I will find you when this is all over. . . Riley replays Dean’s promise over in her head, it’s the only thing that brings her comfort now. Sam holds tight to Riley’s hand and they follow Ben through a clearing of trees, the direction of Hailey’s scream. They break through the thicket and find nothing.

No Hailey. No Dean.

“If it keeps its victims alive, why would it kill Roy?” Ben asks as Riley and Sam lead him through the woods. The important thing now is to regroup, track the Wendigo to its hideout, and save the others. But Sam has no idea where to even begin.

“Honestly?” he says, looking between the young boy and his best friend, “I think because Roy shot at it, he pissed it off.”

Ben continues forward. He drops to the ground, focusing on something hidden in the dirt. When he stands, he hands whatever he picked up to Sam. “They went this way,” he says, and there’s a certainty in his voice they hadn’t heard from him before now.

“What is it?” Riley asks. Sam gently squeezes her hand.

“It’s better than bread crumbs. Tink, remind me to thank you for buying Dean the large bag of peanut M&M’s.”

Riley smiles. “See? I told you they’d come in handy.”

Sam doesn’t tell her how much he misses her smile. There’s a lot he hasn’t said. Truth be told, he’s wrestling with the feeling of wishing he’d forced her to stay behind at Stanford. He can’t bring himself to admit that seeing her every day just breaks his heart all over again; it shouldn’t have been Jessica, he tells himself thousand times over. But then, does that mean wants it to have been Riley instead? Whatever the answer, Sam knows this small moment between them, this one second where everything feels normal again isn’t meant to last.

He drops the M&M back to the ground and follows the trail of them littered in the dirt, he doesn’t hold her hand now. His focus is solely on finding Dean and Hailey and with any luck, Tommy, all of them alive. Time passes slowly, without remorse as the trio treks through the woods, silent and without a clue as to what awaits at the end of Dean’s trail.

“An abandoned mine?” Riley says as Sam inspects the rundown building in front of them. “Dean’s trail led us here?”

“This is where the M&M’s stop,” Ben tells her. She gives him a small reassuring smile.

Sam pushes his way through the entrance and beckons Ben and Riley after him. The light from outside stops just beyond, and he switches on his flashlight. It’s dark and dry and so far, there are no signs of Dean or Hailey anywhere. Sam’s heart plummets. He can’t do this without his brother.

He leads Riley and Ben down the mine, checking over his shoulder every now and then to make sure Riley is still with him. The darkness makes signing impossible. Dean says it’s his responsibility to keep her safe, but he’s done a shit job of it and still isn’t doing that much better now.

Growling somewhere in the distance pulls Sam’s focus back to the task at hand. He pushes Ben and Riley behind him and they scoot off to the side, pressing themselves as close against the wall of the mine as they can get. Leaning around the corner, Sam sees the shadowed figure of the Wendigo leave through the entrance and knows this is their opportunity to find the others. Once it’s gone, he leads them around the corner where the Wendigo appeared and they continue their search.

Light filters in through small cracks in the mine, and Sam glances at Riley. The determination in her eyes is something he isn’t used to seeing. It’s a strange mixture of resilience and defiance and. . .anger. He wonders briefly if she is angry with him and decides that she has every right to be. He hasn’t been acting like her best friend in the last few days.

The floor beneath them creaks; before Sam can warn them to get back, they fall through to the ground below.

Ben looks up startled at the pile of bones they’ve landed on and jumps back, scrambling to get away. Sam’s there to comfort him.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay,” he says softly.

Ten feet away, Dean and Hailey hang by their wrists. Sam considers the Wendigo probably went out to look for the rest of them. In his relief at finding his brother, he forgets to check on Riley.

“Dean,” he says. “Dean. Hey, you okay?”

Dean groans, he wakes at the sound of his brother’s voice. “Ugh, yeah.”

“Hailey. . . Hailey, wake up,” Ben tries. “Wake up.”

Sam cuts the rope tying Dean to the ceiling and helps him down. “Gotcha. All right.” He sits Dean against the wall. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods. “Where is it?”

“It’s gone for now.”

Tommy gasps. He’s in worse shape than Dean and Hailey put together, having been strung up there for days before anyone was able to find him. Hailey looks over her shoulder at the brothers. “Cut him down.”

“Check it out,” says Dean, smiling.

Sam returns it with one of his own. “Flare gun. Those will work.”

Dean’s eyes sweep over the group, searching. He frowns. “Where’s Riley?”

“Riley?”

“Yes, Sam. Riley. Riley. Your best friend, Riley. Short Stack, Sam! She’s about this high with brown hair and piercing grey-blue eyes and an annoying knack for always being right! Where is she?”

It’s then, Sam realizes, he hasn’t seen her since they fell through the floor. His face pales. He was so wrapped up in finding Dean, in killing the Wendigo, in reuniting Hailey and Ben with their brother. . . He forgot about Riley. . .again. He panics, his heart leaps into his throat. The rage that flashes in his brother’s eyes is enough to punch a hole through his chest.

He stutters. “I-I― I don’t―”

“Damn it, Sam! Where is she?” Dean roars.

Sam rises from the floor. He’ll find her, he has to. He turns back toward the hole; he remembers falling, and picking Ben up from the pile of skeletons, and. . . He never checked for her.

Dean sees her body before Sam does. “There.” He gestures to the bones, and nestled among them is that familiar head of chestnut brown curls.

Sam sprints across the room. “Riley?” He can’t lose her, too. “Ri? You gotta wake up, Tink.” He pulls his hand away from the back of her head and it’s coated in blood. He chokes down a sob.

“You don’t get to die on me, Hot Stuff,” Dean says kneeling beside his brother, and Sam ignores the pang of jealousy that springs up in his chest. Dean replaces Sam’s hand with his own, this is not the time to stop himself from touching her. He applies pressure to the back of her skull, just enough so the bleeding slows. “We haven’t made it through that The Best of Kansas tape yet. No way I’m lettin’ you check out before then.”

Riley stirs; the brothers breathe.

“You are a terrible tour guide. I oughta kick your ass,” she says breathless.

“Atta girl,” says Dean. “How about we get you outta here first? I’ll let you kick my ass all you want after this is all over.”

She smiles, and Sam’s heart stutters in his chest. “Deal.”

“You okay up there?” Dean asks, looking up at Riley on Sam’s back. It’s the only way to make sure she stays with the group. He won’t risk leaving her behind a second time; he makes his brother do the work.

She nods her head, and Dean can see the exhaustion in her usually bright grey-blue eyes. “Mmhm,” she assures.

Growling down the mine alerts the group of the Wendigo’s return. Sam gently sets Riley on the ground, aiming his flare gun out in front of him.

“Looks like someone’s home for supper,” says Dean, scanning the mine shaft.

“We’ll never outrun it,” Hailey’s voice shakes.

Dean’s eyes pass over Tommy and Riley, they’re too injured to run even with help from the others. Dean thinks. They’ve made it this far, he refuses to give up now. He turns to his brother, calculating.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“All right, listen to me. Stay with Sam, he’s gonna get you outta here.”

Hailey stares back at him. “What are you gonna do?” He doesn’t answer.

His gaze meets Riley’s and he knows what she’s thinking. Of all the stupid things she’s watched me do. . . This is just the tip of the iceberg. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t smile, just stares into those gunmetal blue eyes. I will find you when this is all over, it’s a promise he knows he can keep.

He runs in the opposite direction without looking back. “It’s chow time, you freakin’ bastard! Yeah, that’s right! Bring it on, baby! I taste good!”

Sam watches his brother walk away and remembers all the times when they ere kids, when he wanted to grow up to be just like Dean. His strength, his fearlessness, his resilience. . .everything about Dean that makes him who he is, Sam isn’t sure he even has a modicum of the skill Dean has. But Dean is counting on him, and Sam refuses to let him down.

He ushers Hailey, Ben and Tommy forward, reaches behind him for Riley’s hand and feels the weight of it against his palm. How did things get so fucked up so quickly? He can’t even begin to figure out what he needs to do to make things right with Riley again or if he even can.

“Right over here!” In the distance, they hear Dean’s shouts to lure the Wendigo away from their location and Sam hopes his brother’s plan will work.

“All right, come on. Hurry!” Sam clears the next hallway and motions for the siblings and Riley to follow along. Riley’s slowing down and Sam knows it’s due to the wound on her head, he’s not sure how much blood she’s lost and she must make it out of the mine.

As quickly as possible, he continues to lead them through the twists and turns of the mineshaft toward the entrance. With the growling up ahead, Sam has no choice but to send them on without him and help Dean dispose of the Wendigo. It’s not the plan his brother had, but he won’t let him face off against that thing on his own.

He turns to Hailey and Ben. “Get them out of here.”

Hailey protests, “Sam, no.”

“Go. Go! Riley, go with them.”

“Not a chance in hell, Winchester.” She grits her teeth and pushes off of the wall. “You’re not leaving me behind this time.”

Her words cut through him like a knife. Of course, she’s still hanging onto that. Why wouldn’t she? She could’ve died, almost died, twice now, because of him. He knows better than to argue, especially against Riley once she has her mind set. He nods. “Okay.”

They back up against the wall, waiting. It’s still too dark for Sam to sign, all he can do is hope she follows his lead on this. He waits. Heavy footsteps echo around them, Sam turns his head to the left. The Wendigo stares them down. He points the flare gun and pulls the trigger, the Wendigo dodges the projectile. Sam grabs Riley’s hand and pulls her after him toward the exit.

“That was your brilliant plan?” she scoffs.

“We got away, didn’t we?” he answers.

“Sam! Riley!” Hailey yells.

They turn down another tunnel and meet up with the Collins siblings, they haven’t made it far without Sam’s help. But at least he’s bought them more time.

“Come on! Hurry, hurry, hurry! Go!” He pushes them forward. If they make it out of this, Sam vows to do better by Riley. Taking another turn, they’re met with a dead end as the Wendigo closes in on them. Sam us he's the group behind him, close to the wall. “Get behind me.” He feels Riley grip the back of his jacket.

If someone is going to die today, it’ll be Sam. The Wendigo stops mere feet in front of them, its large figure rears back and roars viciously. Sam swallows, his last act of heroism will be staring down the eyes of this monster before he lets it take Riley and the others. I owe her this much, he thinks.

“Hey!” Suddenly Dean’s there. He draws the Wendigo’s attention away from his brother and their friends, pulls the trigger and sends a flare directly into the center of its torso. It lights up from the inside out as the flare burns away its flesh. Dean looks up at the group. “Not bad, huh?”

Riley Thomas can’t believe the turn her life has taken in the last month. From studying for exams at Stanford, celebrating Halloween and Sam passing his LSATS, to following Sam and his estranged older brother across California to look for their father, meeting a ghost with a penchant for killing adulterers, almost dying, and now this. If anyone were to tell Riley Thomas that the true test of her life had only just begun when she met Sam Winchester three years ago, she would’ve scoffed in their faces. Now, it’s the only thing she’ll believe.

She sits on the hood of the Impala outside the Lost Creek Trail Ranger Station watching Sam help Ben give his statement to the authorities. It’s weird to think that after everything they witnessed, they have to cover their tracks with a lie. No one in their right minds will believe half the shit they tell them; she wouldn’t if she hadn’t seen it for herself.

Down the way, Dean walks with Hailey. She wrestles with the feelings of jealousy stirring in her gut. She told Hailey to go for it and that’s what she’s doing. Dean doesn’t belong to her, he doesn’t belong to anyone. The moments between them in the forest were just that, moments. Pieces of time that exist and are left behind, never to be breached again. Maybe that’s how they should stay.

The boys return to the car and Riley decides she’s fine with that. She has to be if she’s going to spend her time travelling across the country with the Winchester boys in search of their dad.

The brothers sit on either side of her and she takes a moment to be grateful that they all made it out of Black Water Ridge alive.

“Man, I hate camping,” Dean says.

“Me, too,” says Sam.

Riley hums.

“Sam, you know we’re gonna find Dad, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Riley isn’t sure she believes him, she isn’t sure he believes himself. “But in the meantime. . .I’m drivin’.”

Riley gapes at Dean as he tosses Sam the keys. He winks at her and she scoffs. “Excuse me, what happened to letting me drive?”

Dean shrugs. “Sam called dibs.”

“Dibs? Dibs?”

“Dibs,” he nods, holding the rear passenger door open for her. “Besides, Sam drivin’ gives me more time to check out those cute little hiking shorts you’ve been wearing all weekend.”

Riley’s cheeks warm at Dean’s flirting, but she quickly scowls to cover it up. “In your dreams, Romeo.”

“Dean, quit flirting with my best friend,” Sam warns, pulling out of the parking lot.

Riley Thomas decides then, that being stuck with Dean Winchester isn’t so bad.

Taglist: @iwantthedean @atc74 @nyotamalfoy @kazsrm67

[carryonwaywardkansas]

Carry On Kansas

Chapter Two: Bend and Break (Part Three)

Summary: A long night in the woods brings about some much needed conversation.

Warnings: General Supernatural warnings apply. Read at your own discretion.

A/N: Um. Yup.

As night falls, Riley becomes more agitated by the second. Her argument with Sam leaves a sour taste in her mouth, and Roy’s insistence that bringing along a “little deaf girl” is going to get them all killed only makes it worse. Dean tries to help by cracking small jokes and not-so-subtle flirts that go over Sam’s head, but nothing works.

They settle in for the night, around what remains of the campsite where Tommy and his friends were, and Riley gets to see up close what all of that childhood training left them with. She watches Dean scratch strange symbols into the ground with a stick, it piques her interest but she’s too afraid to ask outright. Luckily, Hailey does it for her.

The feisty brunette sits across from Riley in front of the campfire, her brother sits next to her. Riley hasn’t decided what to make of them yet. In the quiet, and nestled together, she doesn’t need Sam to interpret for her. She wouldn’t ask him to right now anyway.

“One more time. That’s. . .?” Hailey’s question hangs in the air between them all. She wants to know for sure how what Dean and Sam are doing is supposed to protect them from whatever is out patrolling the woods.

Dean scratches another symbol in the ground and turns toward the firelight, he makes sure Riley can see him too. “Anasazi symbols. It’s for protection. The Wendigo can’t cross over them.”

Riley glares at Dean as he walks by, ruffling her hair. She counts that as a strike against his character, just for fun.

“So, uh. . .how do you know them?” Hailey asks, nodding toward the brothers. She’s timid now, her spitfire attitude toned down in fear of whatever’s stalking them in the forest. Riley can’t blame her, if she hadn’t grown up seeing ghosts, she’d probably be afraid too.

She glances over her shoulder at the pair who sit a couple feet away, locked in a conversation of their own. She thinks back to earlier that day and scowls. “The tall, broody asshole? We go to school together, Stanford. Or we did, before their dad went missing.”

“And the other one, are you two. . .”

Riley raises her eyebrows; of course, that’s why she’s asking. Dean flirts, Hailey doesn’t flirt back but she wants to know if there’s a reason not to. Well, Riley has to commend her manners at least. She chuckles and quickly shakes her head. “Hell no. I’ve only known that dickhead for about two and a half weeks. He’s all yours.”

“Oh, I wasn’t asking for―”

“I’m kidding. But to answer your question, no. I’m not dating either of them. I wouldn’t even be here if. . .”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Hailey says softly.

“You didn’t. We lost someone a couple weeks ago, it’s been. . .hard.” Riley lets herself miss Jessica for the first time since she died.

Dean sits next to Sam after ensuring that Riley, Ben, and Hailey settled in all right for the long night ahead. He wants to figure out what the hell is going on with his brother, but he can’t approach it how he has over the last few days. Sam’s agitation goes off like a bomb at the slightest thing, and Dean wants to talk, really talk.

“You want to tell me what’s going on in that freaky head of yours?”

Sam protests, “Dean. . .”

“No, you’re not fine.” It’s now or never; they’ve got work to do. “You’re like a powder keg, man. It’s not like you. I’m supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?”

“Dad’s not here. I mean, that much we know for sure, right? He would have left us a message, a sign, right?”

Dean nods. He should’ve known this has something to do with Sam’s behaviour, part of it at least. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Tell you the truth, I don’t think Dad’s ever been to Lost Creek.”

“Then let’s get these people back to town, get Riley somewhere safe, and let’s hit the road. . . Go find Dad. I mean, why are we still even here?”

He stands and retrieves John’s journal from the inside pocket of his jacket, then crouches down in front of his brother. It’s a hard conversation to have, but it’s one they need. “This is why,” he says. “This book. This is Dad’s single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. And he’s passed it on to us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off― you know, saving people, hunting things. . .the family business.”

“That makes no sense. Why― Why doesn’t he just call us? Why doesn’t he tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?”

“I don’t know. But the way I see it, Dad’s given us a job to do, and I intend to do it.”

“Dean. . .” Sam shakes his head, protesting. He doesn’t like where Dean’s going with this. “No. I got to find Dad. I got to find Jessica’s killer. I got to take Riley back to Stanford. It’s the only thing I can think about.”

Dean sighs. “Okay, all right. Sam, we’ll find them. I promise. Listen to me, you’ve got to prepare yourself. And you’ve got to prepare Riley, too. I mean, this search could take a while. And all that anger, you can’t keep it burning over the long haul. It’s gonna kill you. You got to have patience, man.” He looks back toward the fire where Riley sits, conversing quietly with Hailey and Ben, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth―the first one he’s seen on her all night. He turns back to his little brother. “That girl loves you, Sam. I don’t know anybody who’d willingly follow their best friend without question to kill a ghost, or hunt a friggen Wendigo. And you’re treating her like crap. She lost Jessica too. She was in this the moment she told you she sees dead people. Keeping her safe, that’s on us.”

“How do you do it? How does Dad do it?” Sam asks, uncertain of how to keep everything from boiling over.

“Well, for one, them.” Dean nods toward the fire. “I mean, I figure our family’s so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. It makes things a little bit more bearable. And I’ll tell you what else helps. . . Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can.”

Dean doesn’t miss the hint of a smile that crosses his baby brother’s lips, or the slight relaxing of his shoulders as the tension eases just enough to let him breathe a little better. He isn’t sure how their talk will help Sam with Riley, he just hopes that it will. . . They can’t afford to be at each other’s throats in their line of work.

A distressed shout and the snapping of twigs somewhere in the distance, has Dean on his feet with Sam quick to follow. The brothers head back to the middle of the campsite; Hailey, Ben and Roy are already on their guard, and Dean searches the circle for those curious dark blue-grey irises. An unsettling look of confusion crosses the features of Riley’s face and Dean feels the rhythm of his heart momentarily stutter.

“Sam, get Riley,” he orders over his shoulder. It’s his brother’s duty to keep Riley informed and safe, and so far he’s done a shit job of both. As the haunting sounds build upon the night air, he addresses the rest of the group, “It’s trying to draw us out. Just stay cool, stay put.”

“Inside the magic circle?” Roy mocks, sneering at Dean’s attempts to keep everyone calm.

Dean can’t focus on Roy’s dismissive attitude towards him, his priority is keeping the group safe above all. Thankfully, no one moves, they take his instructions seriously and stay within the Anasazi symbols he etched into the ground. He allows himself to wonder, briefly, if not being able to hear the Wendigo’s cry is better or worse for Riley. He settles for both when gunshots ring through the air, a pained growl following.

“I hit it!” Roy calls and darts out into the darkness, leaving behind the only real protection against what lurks in the night.

“Roy, no!” Dean knows it’s too late, but he has to try. “Don’t move,” he orders behind him. He meets Riley’s confused and pleading gaze; he opens his mouth to say something, anything that will explain the situation in a way she’ll understand. He wants to promise he’ll come back, but he can’t find the words. Dean nods to Sam and the brothers chase after Roy, hoping to find him before the Wendigo. Saving people, hunting things, Dean reminds himself.

If anyone had told 6-year-old Riley Thomas that she would spend the night in the woods hunting a monster when she grew up, she would have laughed in their faces. If only she knew then what she knows now. What upset Riley most wasn’t the monsters or the ghosts or even the weird reality that things out of myths and folktales exist, it was how powerless she felt to stop bad things from happening to good people. What good was being able to perceive someone’s death if she couldn’t keep it from happening? What good was any of it if she lost the people she loves anyway?

Pacing back and forth, Riley considers the consequences of going after the boys. On one hand, it leaves Hailey and Ben without anyone who knows even a little bit of what’s happening around them. On the other, staying means Roy dies. Although, if the apparitions were anything to go off of, Roy was going to die anyway.

Riley sighs. With Sam and Dean gone, protecting Hailey and Ben falls to her. She has no idea where to start, but she knows staying within Dean’s circle is probably their best bet at surviving the night. I’m not cut out for this. . . She’s rout of her league and underprepared, but that’s never stopped her before.

She returns to the fire and sits down; out of the trio, she’s the only one who properly prepared for a hike in the woods and the possibility of an overnight stay. She reaches in her pack and pulls out one of the blankets she packed for the brothers along with her own, takes a moment to stoke the fire and adds one more log for the night.

“We should settle in for the night as best we can. Sam and Dean will be back soon. We’ll be safe as long as we stay inside the circle,” she says calmly.

“How do you know we’re safe here?” Hailey’s concern for Tommy reaches new heights the longer it takes to find him, she and Ben huddle close together across from Riley by the fire.

“I don’t.” Riley hands the extra blanket to Ben with a tiny reassuring smile. “But I trust those boys with my life, and so far I haven’t been wrong about that. We’re going to find your brother, but you have to trust them, too.”

Hailey shakes her head, hesitant. “Trust them? We barely know them, and they left us alone with that― that thing still out there.”

“They left to find Roy. Look, if you can’t trust the brothers, trust me. Believe me, Hailey, they will come back. They always come back.” Sam always comes back. . .

At the moment, Riley isn’t sure who she’s trying to convince―Hailey and Ben, or herself? She stares at the tree line where the Winchesters disappeared, she knows they’ll return because the look in Dean’s eyes told her so. She also knows if they return without Roy, it’s only a matter of time before the Wendigo comes for Hailey and then for Dean.

Riley doesn’t let herself think about Dean dying. For Sam’s sake, she won’t let him.

Taglist: @iwantthedean @atc74 @nyotamalfoy @kazsrm67

[carryonwaywardkansas]

Carry On Kansas

Chapter Two: Bend and Break (Part Two)

Summary: The trio join the search and rescue in Black Water Ridge and stumble upon the unexpected. Sam’s attitude pushes Riley further and further away, but Dean’s strange attempts to befriend her almost make up for it.

Warnings: General Supernatural warnings apply. Read at your own discretion.

A/N: I don’t even know. It’s a work in progress, my dudes. 🤦🏽‍♀️

The drive to Hailey Collins’ place is long, quiet, and uncomfortable. Riley sits in the backseat to get away from the stifling tension between her and Sam; it’s upsetting when he doesn’t think to ask if she’s okay. She files his oversight as being part of the grieving process and tries to think of anything else.

When the boys go talk to her, Riley stays behind. She lowers herself down on the seat so she can’t be seen from the house. They were a team in Jericho, the three of them; an insanely mismatched one, but a team nonetheless. Here it feels like Sam regrets bringing her along that first night, regrets still having her along now. She stays behind to give him some space.

Dean plays the Kansas tape he gave her to drown out the quiet, she doesn’t thank him.

Sam’s mood is better than it has been all day when they return to the car. Riley sees more of her Sam in him than she has the last few weeks, and she’s hopeful. He prattles on about the information Hailey gave them, and constructs his own theories.

They follow Sam’s thoughts to the sole survivor of a vicious attack in 1959. Again Riley waits while the brothers talk to him, she’s determined to give Sam as much space as he needs in hopes it’ll somehow bring them closer together. She isn’t sure if it’ll work, but she’s willing to try.

“I could use a burger and a beer,” Dean says, starting the car once more after talking with Mr. Shaw. He pulls out onto the road and glances up at Riley’s reflection in the rear view mirror, “How about you, Riley? You hungry?”

She smiles. It’s weird hearing him say her name, she almost misses Short Stack. “I could definitely go for a burger and a beer.”

Sam laughs dryly, and turns to her in the backseat. His hands move with purpose, he punctuates his tone with deliberate movements and furrowed brows as he signs, “You are not 21 for three weeks.”

Riley scowls. Her own hands are equally as rigid in answer, “And?”

“And. . .that’s it.”

“Your point, Sam?”

“Don’t be stupid, Riley. That is my point.”

“I’m no stupider for having a couple beers with friends, than I am for following you from Stanford,” she bites back. And that’s the last they talk of it.

By the time they pull into the parking lot outside the diner, Riley’s seething. The first thing Sam’s said directly to her in days without any real prompting, and he’s being a jackass about it. She decides not to ask why, certain his answer will only sour her mood further. He seems to have forgotten that it’s never been an issue before.

Instead, Dean orders out and they head to a motel just outside of town. Like her first night with them, they pay for one room with two double beds. Neither of them shy away from the idea of having to share a room, nor the possibility of sharing a bed. Though Riley suspects Dean is a bit too eager. All the same, she finds his playfulness comforting in a time rife with such confusion and chaos.

He lets them into the double room and sets the bag of food on the desk, the aroma fills the air and their stomachs grumble.

Sam drops their bags onto the bed closest to the door, and places Riley’s on the other. “Uh, Riley, you’ll be over there. Dean and I will take this one.”

She nods. They’ve shared a bed before, her and Sam. But lately he forces Dean to share or he sleeps alone tangled uncomfortably in a chair, and Riley knows it’s because he hasn’t shared with another woman since. . . She doesn’t finish the thought. She’s been in Jessica’s shadow from the start of their friendship, and she shadows Riley even more now in her death. Riley tries not to feel bitter toward the dead.

“All right,” Dean says, breaking the awkward tension with a quick clearing of his throat. “Let’s eat!” He hands Riley a large burger, medium-rare, and a boat of fries. Then with a grin, produces a 6-pack of Heineken. He opens the first bottle and passes it to Riley’s waiting hands.

“You’re a lifesaver, Dean Winchester!” Riley exclaims, humming contentedly around a delicious mouthful of her burger. She washes it down with a sip of beer.

“Oh, I can be anything you want, Sweetheart.” Dean winks, he doesn’t tell her how much he missed her laugh.

The following morning, Riley finds herself alone in the motel room. A note scribbled quickly on a leftover napkin from last night’s diner trip, says the boys are heading out to Black Water Ridge and will check in with her as soon as possible. She’s offended that they’d even consider the possibility of leaving her behind.

A quick peek out the window lets her know they haven’t quiet left yet, likely stopping in the office to return their room keys―why keep theirs if she has hers? Thankfully, she showered before climbing into bed the night before, so she shoves her feet into her boots and grabs her bag, then she’s out the door without a second thought.

Déjà vu washes over her, she swears she’s done this before. . .slinking in the shadows, what little she can find, toward the Impala in an effort to remain unseen by either of the brothers. To Dean’s credit, she finds the back passenger door unlocked and climbs in; they began this journey together, they’ll end it together.

Sam’s face as he spots Riley comfortable in the backseat is one she’s oddly familiar with, it brings a sense of home to her as she stares back at him defiantly.

“What the hell are you doing, Kansas?”

“I’m going with you.”

“This isn’t a game, this is dangerous.”

“Yeah? No shit. You think the last two weeks of our lives haven’t been dangerous? I almost died twice, Sam.” She’s challenging him much like she did the day they met, daring him to speak against her words, but she knows he won’t.

Sam frowns. Riley sees anger growing beneath his skin, if he would just let it out. “Where we’re headed isn’t safe for you―”

She cuts him off with a raise of her hand. “Stop right there. I heard you talking last night, outside of Mr. Shaw’s place. I may not know exactly what you’re going after, but I have hunted before and I’m an excellent tracker. I can hold my own.” She leans over the seat; this close she can smell Dean’s aftershave lingering on his skin. “What happens if you leave me behind and I see you? Or worse, I see one of them?”

Sam tenses, but says nothing. He looks to his brother over Riley’s head. Say something, he shrugs.

“Short Stack’s got a point, Sammy,” Dean agrees. He turns the key in the ignition and the engine roars to life.

Riley smiles proudly, she likes winning.

“Fine. If we tell you to stay back, stay back.” Sam knows when he’s been defeated.

The sun through the trees of the park is beautiful, the leaves shimmer silver in its light. Riley makes a note to take pictures on their way out of town.

They pull into the entrance to the trail, meeting up with Hailey, Ben, and their guide. Riley feels the determination pouring off of the siblings, it’s the same she felt from Sam and Dean the first night they left for Jericho. She wonders what drives people like them to make the decisions they do.

“You guys got room for three more?” Dean asks. He holds himself as if he’s meant to be there, his presence commands attention one wouldn’t otherwise give him naturally, and Riley decides that has come from their dad. What else did John Winchester teach his sons that normal fathers wouldn’t have?

Hailey gives Dean and Sam a once over. “Wait, you want to come with us?”

“Who are these guys?” asks the guide.

“Apparently, this all the park service could muster up for search and rescue. Not sure about the girl, though.”

“You’re rangers?” he asks, directed at the brothers.

“That’s right.” Dean nods to Riley, “She’s with us.”

“And you’re hiking out in biker boots and jeans?” Haley’s judgment doesn’t miss their choice of attire, though Riley seems the only one properly dressed for an actual hike through the woods.

Dean glances down at his shoes and back up at the young woman in front of them. “Well, sweetheart, I don’t do shorts.”

Following Roy’s lead, Riley, Sam and Dean for the most part, keep their eyes peeled on the forest surrounding them. Riley doesn’t remark on the eeriness of the forest’s silence, doesn’t comment on the rigidity of Sam’s shoulders, doesn’t tell Dean that Hailey is out of his league. She swaps her usual playful banter with her best friend for familiarizing herself with the rough terrain and climate within the park. Something doesn’t sit right with her.

She stares at Dean’s back as he walks ahead of her with Roy, whatever their conversation has turned to, she’s too far back to make out what they’re saying. But it’s when Roy’s steps fall back that she notices the uneven ground where Dean walks. Her eyes scan the patchy forest floor; she moves faster than their guide does, snatching at the back of Dean’s collar and swiping his left leg back with her right one.

She gives him a look that says, you really are lucky I came along, and gestures down to the ground. Dean shrugs confused, she rolls her eyes.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, kid?” Roy’s gruff voice meets Riley’s ears and she groans. He reaches for her shoulder, grip unnecessarily tight.

“While the two of you were busy talking, I was busy watching,” she says, bored of Roy’s superiority complex. She tries to shrug his hand away, but he doesn’t let go.

“Hey. Don’t touch her.” Sam comes up behind them; the first sign of protection he’s shown in days. “What’s up, Riles?”

She wants to smile, hearing her nickname again but there are more important things that take precedence. She grabs a thick branch from the ground and pokes it metres in front of where she kicked Dean’s foot, a sharp metallic snap fills the air and startles the group. “Romeo here almost lost his foot in a bear trap.”

Dean breathes a heavy sigh. “Sweetheart, remind me later that I owe you one.”

“Nice catch,” Sam signs this softer, his hands move timidly. Riley sees the nervous way he chews his bottom lip and his eyebrows crease together.

“I told you, you need me.” The tone of her voice doesn’t match the way she leans away from him; she’s determined to make him work for it, even if she does miss him.

They follow Roy deeper into the woods until they hit Black Water Ridge. The sense that something is off only grows the closer they get to where they’re supposed to be. The next time they stop, Sam asks where they are and Roy tells him by his GPS, they’re in the same place the coordinates in John’s journal led. Riley doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation, Sam forgets to tell her.

“Hey, are you with us?” She jumps at he sound of Sam’s voice right behind her. Without him to interpret, she’s missed more than half of what’s been said, and she’s too proud to call him out on it right then. He knows this by now.

She swallows down the rising frustration in her chest and turns to him with a forced smile. “Right behind you. Where’s Roy?”

“Who knows? The asshole went to have a look around on his own.” Sam leads her to the others, doesn’t comment on how irritated she seems. He ignores a lot these days.

“He’s. . .arrogant,” she says, trying for conversation. He doesn’t bite.

A chill covers Riley from head to toe, she shudders. Swallowing she glances over her shoulder; the apparitions appear distorted, glitching in and out of focus. It only takes her a moment to recognize their faces: Roy, Hailey, and Dean.

Riley’s heart plummets. She scans the area around them, the feeling of dread only grows when she realizes she doesn’t see Roy. Or anyone. Alone in unfamiliar territory, Riley has no idea how to keep her friends alive. . .

Easy, Ri. You can do this. She takes a moment to calm down, lets the beating of her heart slow to a steady rhythm. She pictures the tread on Dean’s biker boots, and remembers the impressions they leave in the ground are thicker than the others because of the way he walks. He carries his weight forward, rolls effortlessly from heel toward the ball of his foot, almost as if he constantly expects to be running to or from something. It’s more noticeable when he’s on a mission.

Riley picks Dean’s tracks out among the dirt, finds the right direction, and heads through the trees. She takes off at a run, hoping to catch up to the others in time to warn them. The hair on the back of her neck stands up, gooseflesh pricks her skin, she ignores the cold sensation tearing at her body.

She breaks through the tree line and crashes into something hard. A warm hand covers her mouth before she can scream and Sam’s voice disrupts the lonely silence she found herself in.

“Hey, hey. It’s me, it’s Sam. You’re safe.” His eyes quickly flit over her face, her arms, her body checking for signs of injury. Once satisfied, he steps back. “Where were you?”

She blinks, shaking her head in confusion. “Me? Where were you? I turned around and you were gone.”

“I heard Roy yell―”

“You left me alone because you heard yelling that I couldn’t? And you didn’t think I needed to know that?”

“I thought you were with me, Ri. I―”

“Save it. I found my way back just fine on my own, no thanks to you.”

A heavy hand settles in the small of Riley’s back and she jumps, but it’s Dean. He smells like the woods and cheap cologne, and despite the weird passes he’s made at Hailey all morning, Riley is comforted by his closeness. He towers over her, sizing up his brother.

Riley doesn’t like the version of the boys standing beside her now.

“You left her behind?” Dean accuses, fire raging in his forest green eyes.

“Like I said, I thought she was with me.” Sam barely tries defending himself to his brother. Riley hates that he doesn’t seem to care.

“And I told you, we stick together. Nobody goes anywhere alone, you got that? Not with that thing out there.”

When Dean turns to Riley, the lines on his face are softer, the fire in his eyes has dulled to a warm glow. She should tell him what she saw, tell him that his and Hailey’s and Roy’s spirits came to her as a warning. But just because he believed her once, what’s to say he’ll believe her again?

She looks up at the older Winchester and smiles. He’s hot and cold at best, and when he’s not flirting with her, she wants to punch him in the face for being an asshole. For some reason, her life is now entwined with his and Sam’s, and there’s no going back, only forward.

Riley lays her hands against his chest and pushes him away from Sam who hasn’t said anything else to either of them. He’s either too afraid to cross his brother or he knows Dean and Riley are right. She allows herself the small comfort of thinking the latter.

“I’m sorry my little brother’s a bitch,” he says. His hand hovers at her back but he doesn’t touch her.

“I’m used to it,” she laughs, it’s pained. It’s not the response he wants, but it’s the truth of how she feels.

“Wanna tell me what happened to you back there?” He’s gentle again, as if he weren’t just moments away from pummelling Sam to the ground.

She takes a deep breath and looks up at him with piercing, haunting eyes. “Whatever this thing is we’re tracking, whatever took Hailey’s brother. . .it’s gonna kill Roy. Then it’s gonna try to kill Hailey. And you.”

“That’s where you were earlier? Why you got separated from us?”

“Mmhm. Look, I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but I―”

“I believe you.”

“You do? Why?”

“Someone’s gotta.”

Riley can’t find the words to tell him why she needed to hear that. Instead she says, “This another one of your charities then?”

“If that makes you feel better,” he laughs, leading her back to the campsite.

It doesn’t, but she smiles to herself anyway.

Taglist: @iwantthedean @atc74 @nyotamalfoy @kazsrm67

[carryonwaywardkansas]

Carry On Kansas

Chapter Two: Bend and Break (Part One)

Summary: It’s been weeks since the fire that killed Sam’s girlfriend, Jessica Moore, and the trio is no closer to finding what killed her than they are to locating the boys’ father. Coordinates left behind in John Winchester’s journal lead them to Black Water Ridge, a National Forest in Lost Creek, Colorado. On the way, the distance between Riley and Sam continues to grow, while Dean begins to occupy the open spaces.

Warnings: General Supernatural warnings apply. Read at your own discretion.

A/N: Episode two! Gonna make this the most slow burn thing I've ever done. Fight me, cowards.

Riley wakes startled.

For a brief moment, panic sets in and she’s unsure where she is or who she’s with. The last thing she remembers is dreaming. Dreaming of Sam’s ghost. It’s been happening more lately―nightmares about losing him, even some about her and Constance, the ghost they encountered weeks ago.

Sam explains everything that took place the night they got back from Jericho as best he can, whenever she asks, but only after Riley begs him continuously for hours on end to tell her. She knows if he can avoid telling her about the fire at all, he will. The funeral took too much out of them.

“You okay?” Dean asks, and it’s gentle. He’s been that way since they left Stanford. He flirts less, Riley misses it.

She sits up, finally aware of her surroundings, and yawns. She’s in the front seat of the Impala, snuggled between Dean and Sam, who’s still fast asleep. Her eyes drift to the bandages on her hands, they itch and she knows it’s because they’re healing. Her skin doesn’t feel hot anymore, the pain isn’t unbearable, just a dull throbbing to the rhythm of her heartbeat.

She hums. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Dean nods, unconvinced. “Another nightmare?”

She knows why he’s asking and she appreciates it, but she wishes he wouldn’t. She wants desperately to dislike him. Riley doesn’t want to talk about the fire or nightmares or Jessica, she wants to help the boys find whatever killed her and get rid of it. She just wants to go back to her life at Stanford.

“You wanna drive for a while?”

At that, Riley’s head swivels toward Dean. Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “Dean, I get the intimidating impression that you don’t let anyone drive this car.”

He laughs. “Got me pegged, huh?” He winks, Riley scowls in disgust.

“I don’t have you pegged for anything, Winchester.”

“Not yet, Thomas.”

She rolls her eyes and scoots closer to Sam, and misses the warmth radiating from Dean’s presence. In another lifetime maybe, she thinks. There’s so much, too much they still don’t know about what happened the night Jessica died. Riley can’t bear to think about it, she can’t bear to think about Sam either. She wonders if he resents her for surviving; it was always supposed to be him and Jessica, and now he’s stuck with her.

Riley’s not okay, she hasn’t been since they left. If Dean knows, he hasn’t said so. Her agenda is set: help them find the thing that killed Jessica, kill the thing that killed Jessica, take Sam back to Stanford, and move on. But something tells her it isn’t that simple.

She pulls the roadmap from the floor by Sam’s feet and lays it across their legs. “So, where are we, anyway?”

“We are just outside of Grand Junction,” Dean says, glancing in the rearview mirror. Miles of open road stretch out behind them.

“Hmm. . .” Riley shifts uncomfortably, the ache in her arms is noticeable now. She should ask Dean to pull over so they can redress her wounds, but they need to keep going, for Sam’s sake.

Wordlessly, Dean pulls the Impala to a stop on the side of the road. The look he gives her is more of an order than a suggestion and Riley’s scrambling out of the driver’s door behind him without a second thought.

Truth be told, Dean’s not entirely sure what he’s doing. He’s never cared about anyone other than himself or Sam―not in the way Sam obviously cares about Riley. But he’s trying, they all are.

“Here, let me take a look.” Dean’s touch is soft, even with the callouses on his fingers. He carefully removes the bandages on Riley’s wrists, trying not to pull away the loose skin. “Not bad,” he says.

Riley stares at his hands as they move over hers; removing old bandages and replacing them with new ones, lightly soothing the area with burn cream, massaging her fingers so the joints don’t stiffen up. Dean’s softer with her now than he was with Sam in Jericho.

“Why are you doing this for me?”

“Someone’s gotta.”

“Charity then?”

“If that makes you feel better.”

It doesn’t, but she keeps that to herself.

―

The next town they stop in is Lost Creek, Colorado. Clues left behind in their father’s journal lead the boys to believe he was on his way to Backwater Ridge National Forest, there’s a whole lot of nothing out there, but they all agree that taking a look can’t hurt. Riley doesn’t mention how suspicious it seems that John would lead them to a place he intended to be, instead of where he’s currently going. Something doesn’t add up in her mind.

The Ranger Station for the surrounding parks and forests of Lost Creek offers more information than John’s journal, though there’s still pieces missing.

“You really think your dad planned on coming out here?” Riley asks Sam as they pour over the map on the table. They haven’t talked about how either of them are doing since that night, they ignore it in favour of focusing on other things.

Sam shrugs. “I don’t know. So far Dad’s journal is the only thing we have to go on, and it brought us here. There’s gotta be a reason for that.”

“All right. Well, you’re the expert. Where do we start?” she says, leaning over the table in Sam’s space. To be close to him again, she tells herself.

He moves back, puts distance between them that is both physical and symbolic. He points to the map as he speaks, “So Black Water Ridge is pretty remote. It’s cut off by these canyons here―rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place. . .”

Behind them, Dean focuses on the framed photo of a large animal on the wall. “Dude, look at the size of this friggin’ bear.”

“. . .and a dozen or more grizzlies in the area. It’s no nature hike, that’s for sure,” Sam finishes his detailed account of the park, but his company has already moved on to other things.

Having enough of Sam’s cold-shouldering, Riley joins the older brother across the room. Though he once again finds her presence irritating, Riley finds warmth around him. It’s more than she can say for Sam.

“I bet,” she says, “you wouldn’t even know what to do with a bear that big.”

Dean rolls his eyes, teasing. “And you would?”

“Mmhm. Unlike you, my dad did take my brother and me hunting. Actual hunting, in the woods, with proper humane traps and everything.” She smiles, proud of herself for being able to one-up the brothers in some capacity of this crazy situation she’s in. At least if they are planning on dragging her out to the middle of God knows where, she’s got the foreknowledge and skills needed for survival.

Dean’s answering smile is playful and reminds her of how Sam’s used to be. She doesn’t tell him that either.

“You three aren’t planning to go out near Black Water Ridge, by any chance?”

“Oh, no, sir. We’re environmental-study majors from U.C. Boulder―just working on a paper.”

“Recycle, man,” Dean chuckles. Oh, the trouble they get into.

Riley catches herself mid-eye roll. A bad habit formed at the expense of her best friend’s atrocious inability to lie; the past few weeks only prove more how lucky he is to have her along. Dean nudges her in the ribs and she busies herself studying the rest of the photos on the wall, feigning colour-coded note-taking in her notebook to aide Sam’s cover story. He owes me big time for this.

The park ranger isn’t convinced and eyes the trio knowingly before offering up his opinion. “Bull. You’re friends with that Hailey girl, right?”

“Yes,” Dean says, considering the accusation. Riley wishes he hadn’t. “Yes, we are, Ranger. . .Wilkinson.”

“Well, I will tell you exactly what I told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn’t be back from Black Water until the 24th. So it’s not exactly a missing persons now, is it? Tell that girl to quit worrying. I’m sure her brother’s just fine.”

“We will. Well, that Hailey girl’s quite a pistol, huh?”

“That is putting it mildly.”

Riley wonders what Dean’s angle is, but he’s gotten more out of Ranger Wilkinson in two minutes than Sam would’ve with his not-so-clever lie. Even she has to admit, though his methods are unconventional and border on weird, Dean gets the job done.

“Actually, you know what would help, is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother’s return date."

They wait patiently as Ranger Wilkinson prints off the permit, telling them as he does so that he technically shouldn’t be showing it to them since they aren’t immediate family. But if it gets them out of his office, then what’s the harm? Plus, it should keep Hailey from coming back for a while, and for that he’s grateful.

Riley becomes more stunned at Dean Winchester’s existence by the second.

“Are you cruising for a hookup or something?” Sam asks his brother once they’re back outside.

“What do you mean?” Dean answers, and Riley wonders the same.

“The coordinates point to Black Water Ridge. So what are we waiting for? Let’s just go find Dad. Why even talk to this girl?”

“Maybe we should know what we’re walking into,” Dean says, “before we actually walk into it.”

“What?”

“Since when are you ‘shoot first, ask questions later,’ anyway?”

“Since now.”

Riley knows he means since Jessica died, but she keeps that to herself too.

Taglist: @iwantthedean @atc74 @nyotamalfoy @kazsrm67

[carryonwaywardkansas]

I’m Not Looking For Somebody With Some Superhuman Gifts

Title & Story inspo: listen here

Summary: When the weight of loss is too much to bear alone, Dean and Riley find comfort in each other. . .

Prompt: “You can’t protect everyone.” | requested by @iwantthedean

It wasn’t supposed to end this way. There has to be more they can do because it’s who they are, they do it all or they die trying.

Riley finds Dean in the library, buried under books she’s never seen him read before. The golden light from the desk lamp casts a warm glow on his features, he’s tired, too tired. He hasn’t eaten since the diner stop they made yesterday, hasn’t slept since they got back early this morning. She can’t remember the last time she saw him this way.

She knows he’s remembering now. He won’t let himself forget, not for a single second. He can’t. He’s Dean Winchester, he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and never puts it down or asks for help. He does it all, because that’s who he is.

Riley walks up behind him, silently, he doesn’t need words now. She lays her chest against his back, her head on his shoulder, hugs her arms around his waist. He breathes better with her near.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing up? It’s late,” his voice rumbles in her chest. She gives his waist a squeeze and covers his ears with her hands―she’s taking a hearing break, left her hearing aids beside their bed. Dean smiles sadly at how tired she is yet how strong she looks standing here with him.

Over the years, Riley’s taught him how to sign and he’s grateful for that. Communicating with her in her language, it’s brought them closer together, makes nights like this easier. He pulls her around to sit on his lap, lifts a calloused hand to her warm cheek and kisses her forehead. Then tiredly signs, “Go back to bed.”

Riley giggles, shakes her head. Dean signs how he speaks, his movements are as clunky as his words sometimes. If tone in sign language could be smoky, she’s sure Dean would master that too. She touches the crease of his brows, lets her thumb stroke over the fading bruise on the apple of his left cheek. “What are you reading?”

“Ah, nothing. The world’s greatest heroes.” He puffs up his chest when he signs “hero” like it’s important, and something he needs to be. And that’s when Riley sees it; the disappointment in himself. For her being hurt, for people dying, for Sam. . .

She hums, studies his face as he continues. His hands hesitate, “Achilles had gold, Hercules had strength. Spider-Man had control, Batman had fists everyone feared.” He swallows, tears prick the edge of his eyes. “But where do I belong on that list, Ri?”

Riley’s heart breaks. Doesn’t he know how much she needs him? Just him. Nothing more. Doesn’t he know that they could go anywhere, risk everything, and she’d still only need him?

“Dean, look at me," she says. Her hand finds his cheek again and lifts his face to hers, she stares into those brilliant forest-green eyes she adores so much. This, she’ll say with her voice, because she wants him to feel every ounce of truth in it. “You can’t protect everyone.”

Dean scoffs. It’s not what he wants to hear, but she’s right. Still, he wants to be more for her, he needs to be more for her. Doesn’t he?

“No, you don’t.” She shakes her head, she knows what he’s thinking without him having to say so. “I don’t need a hero, I don’t want a hero. I don’t want a fairytale, Dean. I want exactly this, right here.”

He raises his hands in protest, “But, Riley―”

Riley places his hand on her chest over her heart, then takes her own and does the same on his chest. She stares into his eyes with an intensity he’s only seen a handful of times. “I want something real, someone real. I want you. I need you. You can’t protect everyone, Dean. But what you can do, exactly as you are, is more than enough for me. And I just want this.”

Dean lays his forehead against hers. His left hand grips tight to her right hip, his right hand tangles in the wild strands of her hair. When he kisses her, it’s full of the understanding that he doesn’t need to be more than he is.

“Something just like this,” she whispers.

[carryonwaywardkansas]

If Fallin’s How You Feel, And Perfect’s What You See

Title & Story inspo: listen here

Summary: Hunting doesn’t allow for much down time, but Dean makes time. . .

Prompt: “It’s really not that complicated.” | requested by @iwantthedean

Dean sits at the bar, waiting. It’s the first time in so long that he’s taking advantage of the quiet time; no hunts, no crazed madmen after him or his brother, no unsettled spirits telling Riley their futures. They don’t get moments like this, not often, not enough.

He checks his watch again, makes sure he has the date and time right. He planned this weeks ago, on the off chance things calmed down, but God knows luck isn’t always on his side. Thankfully, this time, it is. 6:40, Riley should be showing up soon. . .he’s got enough time to get a handle on his nerves before she shows up. It’s not like they’ve never been on a date before, he’s taken her out countless times. But this is different.

“See your girl yet?” the bartender, Jake asks, setting a fresh beer in front of Dean.

“Ah, not yet. But I’ve got time,” he answers. And he does.

He’s wearing his best shirt, the red one Riley likes―she says it brings out his eyes, and his eyes are one of her favourite things about him―dark blue jeans that hug his waist in just the right way, she says. He can’t remember the last time he cleaned up this well for someone, but he’d do it a thousand times over for Riley.

Dean can’t remember how they got here, he’s just glad they did.

He spends his time waiting, reminiscing about his favourite things. The way she looks when her hair’s a complete mess, how she turns the music up real loud in his car just to feel the bass drum kick in her sternum, the way she begs him to sing her favourite songs when they’re on the radio because she loves his voice on the longer drives back. How he never thought about forever before her but his name changing hers goes through his mind every now and then, how he wishes he were her favourite wine so he could always touch her lips, how he’s buy her a house just to build a porch swing, how her face lights up when she discovers a dollar she didn’t know she had, how peaceful she looks when she sleeps. . .

Dean’s so caught up in his thoughts that he nearly misses when she walks through the door. He knows she’s there because the bar is crowded and every conversation stalls, every head turns, everyone watches as Riley makes her way to him. Dean swears time stops in the dim light of the bar; he stands from his seat and moves from the counter, his own eyes fixed on the sight before him.

Riley takes Dean’s hand, and he slowly spins her into his arms. Her laugh is music to his ears. Soft music filters through the speakers as he sways the two of them back and forth, sealed in a bubble fit just for them. He feels himself falling all over again for this vision of perfection he never saw coming, and he wonders if she feels it, if she sees it? And if she does, does she know that the things she says he is, are what she means to him?

“Dean?” She lays her head on his chest, his heart beats against her cheek.

“Hmm?” his voice rumbles low. He presses his nose to the crown of her head, she smells like strawberries.

“Why’d you do this for me tonight?” she asks, voice soft.

He knows why she’s asking. Riley’s never believed she deserves anything like this, not since Sam broke her heart. Dean’s punched his brother in the face for that many times already.

The hand on her back pulls her closer, the other holds tight to her own. “Someone’s gotta.”

Words he’s spoken a thousand times before and they’ve never lost their meaning. Riley laughs, “I’m serious.”

“Because I love you, dummy,” he chuckles. He kisses her hair, inhaling his favourite scent. “It’s really not that complicated.”

[carryonwaywardkansas]

Brawls, Brews, and Mullet Rock - Dean Winchester Oneshot

Summary: A quiet night at a work turns south when an inebriated patron steps out of his lane; but the ruggedly handsome customer who frequents on nights the reader works work quickly comes to her rescue.

Prompt: "I'll drive you home." | requested by @iwantthedean

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: alcohol, swearing, minor bar fight, destruction of property

Word Count: 1905

A/N: Thank you so much @iwantthedean for participating in my first SPN Oneshot Event! You are always the first to encourage me to take the leap and do the first thing that comes to mind. This one's for you, not only because you requested it but because you are my biggest supporter. Love you, girl!

Dean pulled into the gravel lot outside that familiar brick red building and cut the engine. He'd lost count of how many miles he'd driven, couldn't tell one day from the next, and desperately needed a drink. This last case the brothers had been on was a hard one; they needed a break, they deserved one.

He dropped Sam off at the motel and drove straight for the bar he'd been to every night for the last three weeks. It was a cute little thing—fashioned after a small stable, aptly named "The Barns." Quite frankly, he didn't care what it was called as long as they were serving up the good stuff.

Honestly, Dean couldn't complain, the bar—and the bartender—had served him well. He locked Baby up tight for the twenty-third night in a row, pocketed his keys and wallet, then made his way to the door.

The Barns' atmosphere was inviting. The moment Dean stepped foot over the threshold, he felt his burdens lift away again. He was no longer worried about Sam or Cas or demons or the hunt. Nah, in The Barns all that mattered were the small moments he got to himself, the small moments he got to interact with her.

She worked every night Dean had been there. For three weeks straight, without fail, she'd be behind the bar. His favorite pastime became watching her mix cocktails and sling beers down the counter. He loved the way her eyes lit up, laughing as she poured shots and served up a blended scotch or two.

Lucky for Dean, his seat at the darkest edge of the counter was open when he arrived. A fresh bottle set out for him as he sat down; he looked up to meet the sparkling gaze of the bartender, a knowing wink and a coy smile all he received in greeting. Dean gave a short nod of thanks and settled on the barstool.

"Figured you'd show up again," she said, after Dean had a moment to relax.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" he asked, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking another long pull of the cool liquid. Dean couldn't recall the last time he ever had a beer that good. Then again, she did say it was a local brew. He realized he missed her answer when she raised a questioning eyebrow at him, but chose to politely repeat herself instead.

"22 nights in a row you've sat on that stool, in that corner, at my counter, in my bar. I'm beginning to see a pattern here, Anakin," she teased.

"Anakin?" he chuckled. Man, this woman...

She shrugged. A light blush dusted the apples of her cheeks and nothing more, she remained unbothered by his catch on to her flirt. "Yeah—tall, dark, broody."

"Broody?" Dean's eyes nearly bulged from his head, he choked on his beer behind a laugh he'd failed to suppress. He was more than content to watch her work after that. "Hey, uh, what's your name?" he asked, smiling.

They'd done this routine every night, it was Dean's favorite.

"Patience, Young Padawan." With that, she turned her attention to the latest customers seated at the counter. The switch from playful to professional was quick, if Dean hadn't spent so much time in that corner watching, he'd have surely missed it.

+

The lull of the evening finally came around 10 PM; service around the counter slowed to a crawl, allowing Y/N a much needed break. She'd grabbed a plate of nachos from the kitchen, two bottles of water from the mini fridge, two glasses from the rack and hopped her happy ass up onto the counter beside her favorite returning customer.

They shared the nachos and quiet conversation and bonded over their love of the classics. Dean was gone the moment she removed her bar hoodie to display the Metallica t-shirt underneath. He'd dramatically held a hand to his chest and declared her a woman after his own heart. The duo erupted into a fit of giggles together and Dean swore to himself he'd remember to get her number before the night was over.

"So, Y/N..." Since learning her name from another favored customer, Dean couldn't get enough of saying it. Likewise, Y/N couldn't get enough of hearing him say it.

"So, Dean?" she said, leaning over the plate of nachos between them.

"You wanna get out of here after last call?"

"Won't your brother be wondering where you are?"

"He's had all night to wonder. Besides, not every night I get to go out with a pretty girl like you."

Y/N rolled her eyes, gave him a playful shove with her shoulder. "That line worked about as well just now as it did twenty-two nights ago, Winchester. But what can I say? I got a thing for tall, dark, and broody. Stay the extra hour after last call, help me clean up and I'll go out with you."

Dean groaned at the callback to her use of Anakin as a nickname but the excitement in his smile was unmistakable. "You got yourself a deal, sweetheart."

+

It was still two hours to last call and Y/N was already exhausted.

"Hey, darlin', can I get another beer?"

She rolled her eyes at the slurred, hiccuped request shouted to her from down the bar. It was setting up to be another one of those nights and she could only prepare so much. She hated the last five hours of her shift, Dean hated them even more.

"I'm cutting you off, Eddy. You and your boys had enough, I'll call you a cab." Y/N nodded toward the door, signaling the trio it was time to go.

Dean watched as she rounded the bar with a tray to collect the stray dishes and bottles from the empty tables, sending him an eye-roll on her way past. He knew she loved her job, loved owning the bar. But he could tell she hated the entitlement some of the patrons took on when they didn't get their way, and Eddy was one of those patrons.

Hunting had sharpened Dean's senses and reflexes, hunting kept him on his toes, hunting prepared him for anything. But nothing could have readied Dean for the shriek of disgust Y/N let out or the drop of the tray or shattering of glass on the floor that occurred only moments after he'd seen her sweet smile. It took everything in him not to pull the firearm from the waistband of his jeans and train it on the sick son of a bitch he knew had caused such a ruckus. But he couldn't—wouldn't—do that to Y/N.

"You have 10 seconds to get your hands off of me Eddy or so help me, heaven and hell won't know what to do with you," her voice was calm, too calm for Dean's liking.

"I said I want another beer, bitch," Eddy spat back.

Dean stood from his stool. He flexed his right hand, itching to wrap his fingers around the trigger of his gun. Y/N knew he had it, he'd told her as much. But when she shook her head, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Damn it, this woman...

Eddy's grip on Y/N's arm tightened too much for Dean's liking. He'd seen enough; couldn't say he'd heard enough since his anger had turned all sound to white noise, but the look on her face had been the last straw. If anyone was gonna haul off and punch drunken assholes in the middle of The Barns, it was gonna be Dean Winchester.

"Hey!" his voice boomed over the commotion, "Let the lady go."

Eddy sneered. He pulled Y/N to his chest, carded an alcohol scented hand through her hair and smiled at Dean. It wasn't friendly, but sickening. And unfortunately for Eddy, his tactic only served to leave Y/N bored. "Who're you?"

"I'm the guy who's gonna give you and your friends here a little tip," Dean kept his voice even as he approached the wild man. His green eyes briefly locked with Y/N's, she was unharmed except for the bruise she'd no doubt have on her arm by tomorrow. Lucky for Dean, he knew bruises well. He gave her a discreet wink and turned his attention back to the inebriated man.

Eddy didn't respond to Dean's threat. He loosened his grip on the young woman, but kept her close. If any part of him thought Dean Winchester wouldn't hit him just because another person was in the way, well... he obviously had never heard of Dean Winchester.

Dean didn't hesitate.

He held his hand out for Y/N. As soon as their palms met, he pulled her to him with his left hand and slugged Eddy in the face with his right fist. With Y/N now cradled safely against his chest, Dean was free to leave all thoughts of The Barns and the rest of its inhabitants behind.

He walked her back to the counter, reached over and filled a baggie with ice, grabbed her purse and hoodie, then steered her toward the door. She went willingly, quietly. The events of the last 15 minutes playing on a loop in both of their minds.

Once outside, the cool air woke them up and calmed them down. Dean still had a protective arm around the bartender, not wanting to leave anything to chance. He led her toward the Impala, carefully lifted her up and placed her on the trunk of the car so he could check over her injuries.

While Dean fussed over the small shards of glass in Y/N's hand, her eyes quickly found her pickup truck across the lot. The state of her most prized possession lit a fire within.

"OH, YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME! THOSE RAT BASTARDS STRIPPED MY TRUCK!"

Dean's head snapped up at the sound of her voice. His eyes drifted across the way to the cherry red GMC he'd spotted three weeks ago. "That's yours?" he asked in disbelief.

"Hell yeah, it's mine! Purrs like a kitten. Or it used to before the moron squad got their hands on it. Shit!" Y/N's voice broke off and tears stung her eyes. Dean's heart broke at the sight. She looked so different out there under the moonlight with him pulling glass out of her hands and holding ice to her biceps.

Once the last of the glass was gone and he'd bandaged her up, he helped her down from Baby and nodded to the passenger door. He glanced back at her truck; he'd help her out, he knew how much it meant to her. Hell, if it'd been Baby, he'd had skinned Eddy and his little minions alive right there on the spot.

"Let me guess... The Barns, the truck... someone close to you, huh?" he said, offering her his jacket.

"My brother," she answered, "fixed it up for me and everything. Opened this place together. He went missing a few years ago. This is all I got left."

"I get it. We'll fix it up again tomorrow, promise." Dean didn't move away when she leaned in for a hug, instead he pulled her in close. He understood her need to keep every part of her brother that she had left alive for as long as possible. He rested his chin on top of her head, gave her a few minutes to catch her breath. When she nodded her head, Dean pressed a kiss into her hair. "Come on, sweetheart. I'll drive you home."

[carryonwaywardkansas]

Untitled - Dean Winchester

Inspiration: listen here.

A/N: for @iwantthedean. Not for any particular reason than it just is. Enjoy, lovely.

It's the way her hair cascades on her pillow; a halo of perfection, framing her beautiful face. It's the way she curls into his side; head on his chest, hand over his heart. It's the way she breathes, smiles, thinks, speaks, exists... it's her, he knows.

It makes Dean want to be a better man, a stronger man, a good man. It makes him feel alive and dying, young and old, new and worn all at once and he loves it. He craves the adventure, he craves the stillness, he craves the certainty in the uncertainty because it's her and it's lovely.

For the first time in his life, Dean Winchester isn't running. He isn't fighting or hiding or saving the world. Dean can breathe because she's given him the okay to take a break, she's told him it can wait another day. He reaches out to touch her skin and she's there, warm and soft and lovely.

It's the way she says his name and the way she assures him that their time will come, is coming. It's the way she doesn't expect more of him than he can give of himself, and the way she lets him fall apart when he needs to. It's the way she loves his brother without him having to ask, the way she accepts every part of who they are--good and bad--without asking them to change. It's the way she cleans the blood from their clothes with professional care. It's the way she patches them up with steady hands. It's the way she whispers her pride and faith and belief in them against his skin at night.

Whatever it is, Dean doesn't know, can't find the words... but she's got it, yes, she has it. She has him.

"Darlin', I don't know what it is," Dean says quietly. He reaches up slowly, softly brushes the hair out of her face. He sees her; all it is, all they are. "I love you."

[carryonwaywardkansas]

My Saturday check-in consists of: Laying in bed with my kitten who only loves to cuddle me on her time lol Currently working on episode three of my SPN rewrite, Carry On Kansas!!

Tags: @iwantthedean @pinknerdpanda and anyone else who might wanna do it! 💜

Saturday check-in y'all

At the moment I'm in my garage drinking coffee from a little local drive-thru place and writing . . . While contemplating a painting I want to do.

If you wanna participate in Saturday check-ins lemme know so I can tag you.

No pressure tags:

@westerneyedwinchester @charred-angelwings @nancymcl @carryonwaywardkansas @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @b3autyfuldisast3r @deansraspberrypie and anyone else who wants to play along

[carryonwaywardkansas]

I’m glad you like it!! 😊

Carry On Kansas

Chapter Two: Bend and Break (Part Three)

Summary: A long night in the woods brings about some much needed conversation.

Warnings: General Supernatural warnings apply. Read at your own discretion.

A/N: Um. Yup.

As night falls, Riley becomes more agitated by the second. Her argument with Sam leaves a sour taste in her mouth, and Roy’s insistence that bringing along a “little deaf girl” is going to get them all killed only makes it worse. Dean tries to help by cracking small jokes and not-so-subtle flirts that go over Sam’s head, but nothing works.

They settle in for the night, around what remains of the campsite where Tommy and his friends were, and Riley gets to see up close what all of that childhood training left them with. She watches Dean scratch strange symbols into the ground with a stick, it piques her interest but she’s too afraid to ask outright. Luckily, Hailey does it for her.

The feisty brunette sits across from Riley in front of the campfire, her brother sits next to her. Riley hasn’t decided what to make of them yet. In the quiet, and nestled together, she doesn’t need Sam to interpret for her. She wouldn’t ask him to right now anyway.

“One more time. That’s. . .?” Hailey’s question hangs in the air between them all. She wants to know for sure how what Dean and Sam are doing is supposed to protect them from whatever is out patrolling the woods.

Dean scratches another symbol in the ground and turns toward the firelight, he makes sure Riley can see him too. “Anasazi symbols. It’s for protection. The Wendigo can’t cross over them.”

Riley glares at Dean as he walks by, ruffling her hair. She counts that as a strike against his character, just for fun.

“So, uh. . .how do you know them?” Hailey asks, nodding toward the brothers. She’s timid now, her spitfire attitude toned down in fear of whatever’s stalking them in the forest. Riley can’t blame her, if she hadn’t grown up seeing ghosts, she’d probably be afraid too.

She glances over her shoulder at the pair who sit a couple feet away, locked in a conversation of their own. She thinks back to earlier that day and scowls. “The tall, broody asshole? We go to school together, Stanford. Or we did, before their dad went missing.”

“And the other one, are you two. . .”

Riley raises her eyebrows; of course, that’s why she’s asking. Dean flirts, Hailey doesn’t flirt back but she wants to know if there’s a reason not to. Well, Riley has to commend her manners at least. She chuckles and quickly shakes her head. “Hell no. I’ve only known that dickhead for about two and a half weeks. He’s all yours.”

“Oh, I wasn’t asking for―”

“I’m kidding. But to answer your question, no. I’m not dating either of them. I wouldn’t even be here if. . .”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Hailey says softly.

“You didn’t. We lost someone a couple weeks ago, it’s been. . .hard.” Riley lets herself miss Jessica for the first time since she died.

Dean sits next to Sam after ensuring that Riley, Ben, and Hailey settled in all right for the long night ahead. He wants to figure out what the hell is going on with his brother, but he can’t approach it how he has over the last few days. Sam’s agitation goes off like a bomb at the slightest thing, and Dean wants to talk, really talk.

“You want to tell me what’s going on in that freaky head of yours?”

Sam protests, “Dean. . .”

“No, you’re not fine.” It’s now or never; they’ve got work to do. “You’re like a powder keg, man. It’s not like you. I’m supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?”

“Dad’s not here. I mean, that much we know for sure, right? He would have left us a message, a sign, right?”

Dean nods. He should’ve known this has something to do with Sam’s behaviour, part of it at least. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Tell you the truth, I don’t think Dad’s ever been to Lost Creek.”

“Then let’s get these people back to town, get Riley somewhere safe, and let’s hit the road. . . Go find Dad. I mean, why are we still even here?”

He stands and retrieves John’s journal from the inside pocket of his jacket, then crouches down in front of his brother. It’s a hard conversation to have, but it’s one they need. “This is why,” he says. “This book. This is Dad’s single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. And he’s passed it on to us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off― you know, saving people, hunting things. . .the family business.”

“That makes no sense. Why― Why doesn’t he just call us? Why doesn’t he tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?”

“I don’t know. But the way I see it, Dad’s given us a job to do, and I intend to do it.”

“Dean. . .” Sam shakes his head, protesting. He doesn’t like where Dean’s going with this. “No. I got to find Dad. I got to find Jessica’s killer. I got to take Riley back to Stanford. It’s the only thing I can think about.”

Dean sighs. “Okay, all right. Sam, we’ll find them. I promise. Listen to me, you’ve got to prepare yourself. And you’ve got to prepare Riley, too. I mean, this search could take a while. And all that anger, you can’t keep it burning over the long haul. It’s gonna kill you. You got to have patience, man.” He looks back toward the fire where Riley sits, conversing quietly with Hailey and Ben, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth―the first one he’s seen on her all night. He turns back to his little brother. “That girl loves you, Sam. I don’t know anybody who’d willingly follow their best friend without question to kill a ghost, or hunt a friggen Wendigo. And you’re treating her like crap. She lost Jessica too. She was in this the moment she told you she sees dead people. Keeping her safe, that’s on us.”

“How do you do it? How does Dad do it?” Sam asks, uncertain of how to keep everything from boiling over.

“Well, for one, them.” Dean nods toward the fire. “I mean, I figure our family’s so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. It makes things a little bit more bearable. And I’ll tell you what else helps. . . Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can.”

Dean doesn’t miss the hint of a smile that crosses his baby brother’s lips, or the slight relaxing of his shoulders as the tension eases just enough to let him breathe a little better. He isn’t sure how their talk will help Sam with Riley, he just hopes that it will. . . They can’t afford to be at each other’s throats in their line of work.

A distressed shout and the snapping of twigs somewhere in the distance, has Dean on his feet with Sam quick to follow. The brothers head back to the middle of the campsite; Hailey, Ben and Roy are already on their guard, and Dean searches the circle for those curious dark blue-grey irises. An unsettling look of confusion crosses the features of Riley’s face and Dean feels the rhythm of his heart momentarily stutter.

“Sam, get Riley,” he orders over his shoulder. It’s his brother’s duty to keep Riley informed and safe, and so far he’s done a shit job of both. As the haunting sounds build upon the night air, he addresses the rest of the group, “It’s trying to draw us out. Just stay cool, stay put.”

“Inside the magic circle?” Roy mocks, sneering at Dean’s attempts to keep everyone calm.

Dean can’t focus on Roy’s dismissive attitude towards him, his priority is keeping the group safe above all. Thankfully, no one moves, they take his instructions seriously and stay within the Anasazi symbols he etched into the ground. He allows himself to wonder, briefly, if not being able to hear the Wendigo’s cry is better or worse for Riley. He settles for both when gunshots ring through the air, a pained growl following.

“I hit it!” Roy calls and darts out into the darkness, leaving behind the only real protection against what lurks in the night.

“Roy, no!” Dean knows it’s too late, but he has to try. “Don’t move,” he orders behind him. He meets Riley’s confused and pleading gaze; he opens his mouth to say something, anything that will explain the situation in a way she’ll understand. He wants to promise he’ll come back, but he can’t find the words. Dean nods to Sam and the brothers chase after Roy, hoping to find him before the Wendigo. Saving people, hunting things, Dean reminds himself.

If anyone had told 6-year-old Riley Thomas that she would spend the night in the woods hunting a monster when she grew up, she would have laughed in their faces. If only she knew then what she knows now. What upset Riley most wasn’t the monsters or the ghosts or even the weird reality that things out of myths and folktales exist, it was how powerless she felt to stop bad things from happening to good people. What good was being able to perceive someone’s death if she couldn’t keep it from happening? What good was any of it if she lost the people she loves anyway?

Pacing back and forth, Riley considers the consequences of going after the boys. On one hand, it leaves Hailey and Ben without anyone who knows even a little bit of what’s happening around them. On the other, staying means Roy dies. Although, if the apparitions were anything to go off of, Roy was going to die anyway.

Riley sighs. With Sam and Dean gone, protecting Hailey and Ben falls to her. She has no idea where to start, but she knows staying within Dean’s circle is probably their best bet at surviving the night. I’m not cut out for this. . . She’s rout of her league and underprepared, but that’s never stopped her before.

She returns to the fire and sits down; out of the trio, she’s the only one who properly prepared for a hike in the woods and the possibility of an overnight stay. She reaches in her pack and pulls out one of the blankets she packed for the brothers along with her own, takes a moment to stoke the fire and adds one more log for the night.

“We should settle in for the night as best we can. Sam and Dean will be back soon. We’ll be safe as long as we stay inside the circle,” she says calmly.

“How do you know we’re safe here?” Hailey’s concern for Tommy reaches new heights the longer it takes to find him, she and Ben huddle close together across from Riley by the fire.

“I don’t.” Riley hands the extra blanket to Ben with a tiny reassuring smile. “But I trust those boys with my life, and so far I haven’t been wrong about that. We’re going to find your brother, but you have to trust them, too.”

Hailey shakes her head, hesitant. “Trust them? We barely know them, and they left us alone with that― that thing still out there.”

“They left to find Roy. Look, if you can’t trust the brothers, trust me. Believe me, Hailey, they will come back. They always come back.” Sam always comes back. . .

At the moment, Riley isn’t sure who she’s trying to convince―Hailey and Ben, or herself? She stares at the tree line where the Winchesters disappeared, she knows they’ll return because the look in Dean’s eyes told her so. She also knows if they return without Roy, it’s only a matter of time before the Wendigo comes for Hailey and then for Dean.

Riley doesn’t let herself think about Dean dying. For Sam’s sake, she won’t let him.

Taglist: @iwantthedean @atc74 @nyotamalfoy @kazsrm67

[carryonwaywardkansas]

Carry On Kansas

Chapter Two: Bend and Break (Part Four)

Summary: The following day it’s a face off like Riley Thomas has never seen before.

Warnings: General Supernatural warnings apply. Read at your own discretion.

A/N: anybody have Dean Winchester shamelessly flirting on their 2022 bingo cards?

Morning arrives unhindered. Riley wakes with ease, nestled in the soft space at Deanʼs back. She doesnʼt remember how she got there, or why he let her stay, but sheʼs grateful all the same. Sam hasnʼt said a word since the brothersʼ return to the campsite, only offering disinterested nods of his head when asked if heʼs all right. Riley chooses to ignore the sound of her heart breaking in favour of channeling the bitterness into her tracking skills.

Neither one moves at first, whether it’s because they don’t want the other to know they’re awake or because they’re content to lay in each other’s presence, Riley isn’t sure. Whatever it is, she’s sad when the moment ends and Dean rises for the day.

She watches him pace back and forth behind Hailey and Ben who have finally woken; their fears and anxieties over what waits for the day ahead, making it difficult for the siblings to sleep. Riley’s heart aches for them, as well as the brothers. She hasn’t spoken to Sam.

Hailey sits on her knees outside of Tommy’s abandoned tent, Riley’s suggestion floats through her mind as she addresses Dean for the first time that morning. “I don't― I mean, these types of things― they aren’t supposed to be real.”

“I wish I could tell you different,” Dean says. Riley can see by the look on his face, it’s an earnest answer.

“How do we know it’s not out there watching us?” she asks.

“We don’t,” he says, squatting down next to her. He glances over his shoulder at Riley. She tries not to think about the way he’s looking at her―like they share a secret between them that he feels burdened with. “But we’re safe for now.”

I gave him that burden, she thinks, dropping her eyes to the ground.

“How do you know about this stuff?” Hailey asks him. And Riley tries to ignore the strange pull in her chest. She told her to go for it, after all.

She sees Dean pause and wants to change the subject if only so that stupid smile will return. . .

“It kind of runs in the family,” he says, looking up into Hailey’s eyes before standing up as Sam enters the middle of the campsite.

“Hey,” Sam greets. He spent the night keeping watch on the other side of the site, refusing to face Riley or his brother once they returned. Riley didn’t ask why.

Sam. They haven’t spoken since their fight yesterday. She doesn’t even want to at this point, but she’s stuck in the woods in the middle of nowhere and her options for good conversation are limited. She sure as hell doesn’t want to watch Dean flirt with Hailey all day. But making nice with Sam is even less appealing than that.

“So, we’ve got half a chance in the daylight,” the younger Winchester says. “And I, for one. . .want to kill this evil son of a bitch.” Sam is changing right in front of her and she doesn’t know how to process it all.

“Well, hell, you know I’m in.” Dean smirks at his baby brother and Riley wonders if he knew this was coming. He hands Sam their dad’s journal and crosses the campsite to sit next to Riley. “So,” he begins, “you wanna tell me why you’re sittin’ here alone, staring daggers at the back of my brother’s head?”

“Because he’s stupid,” she signs, never taking her eyes off Sam’s back. She doesn’t consider that Dean has no clue what she’s saying, just continues with her rant all the while imagining punching her best friend in the face. Her hands move quickly, her face twists in anger, and Dean continues to sit. “He left me alone in the woods. He keeps leaving me. He left on my birthday, he left on Halloween, he left when Jess died. . . He blames me and I. . .”

Riley clenches her hands into fists; Dean stays silent. He doesn’t know what she’s saying but he recognizes the pain in her eyes.

He doesn’t say anything, just takes hold of her hands and begins changing the bandages on her burns. They look better, much better. When he’s done, he gently pats her knee and waits for her to face him. That’s one thing Riley gives him credit for that Sam doesn’t do: he gets her attention before he speaks, even with her hearing aids in. “It’s okay, you can hate him,” he chuckles.

Riley blinks a moment, then smiles. “I don’t,” she answers. They both know she’s lying.

“You do, but I won’t tell him.”

“You are a pain in my ass, Winchester.”

“If that’s what you want me to be, Sweetheart,” he winks.

She shakes her head, shoving his shoulder. Laughing with Dean feels good.

“Come on, you need to hear this, too.”

Riley lets Dean pull her up and lead her back to the group. She tries to ignore the weight of his hand in hers, tries to focus on listening to the information Sam’s giving but all she can think about at the moment is how calming Dean’s presence is.

“Wendigo is a Cree Indian word. It means, ‘Evil that devours.’”

“They’re hundreds of years old,” Dean says. “Each one was once a man, sometimes an Indian or other times a frontiersman or a miner or hunter.”

“How’s a man turn into one of those things?” Hailey asks, skeptical of the situation before them.

“Well, is always the same. During some harsh winter, a guy finds himself starving, cut off from supplies or help ― becomes a cannibal to survive, eating the other members of his tribe or camp.”

“Like the Donner party,” Ben says, speaking for the first time since they arrived.

“That’s right,” Sam affirms. “Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities ― speed, strength, immortality.”

Dean looks past Sam’s shoulder to where Riley stands just behind him. “If you eat enough of it, over years, you become this less-than-human thing. You’re always hungry.”

Riley notes the piece of cloth in Dean’s hands along with the two bottles he picked up moments before, she raises her eyebrows at him, though she’s positive she knows what he’s doing. From research she’s done on her own surrounding ancient tribal mythology and lore, she knows the only way to kill a wendigo is with fire. And, if her knowledge of the brothers from her time with them proves correct, Dean’s in the process of making Molotov cocktails.

“So, if that’s true, how can Tommy still be alive?” Hailey wonders.

Dean looks to Sam who nods, then turns back to the young woman. “You’re not gonna like it,” he warns.

“Tell me,” she orders.

“More than anything, a Wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time. When it’s awake, it keeps its victims alive. It, uh, stores them so it can feed whenever it wants. If your brother’s alive, it’s keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, and safe. And we gotta track it back there.”

“And then how do we stop it?”

“Well, guns are useless ― so are knives. Basically. . .” Dean moves behind them, holding up the items he gathered from around the campsite. His eyes meet Riley’s and he nods, telling her that her assumptions are correct. “We gotta torch the sucker.”

Riley follows along silently. Dean and Hailey head up the front of the group and Riley’s nerves tingle beneath her skin, she knows what’s coming even if the others don’t. Before leaving the campsite, she and Dean discussed what to do in the event her premonitions come to pass ― his instructions have left her feeling weary. Sam hasn’t noticed.

In the weeks that have passed, she’s come to trust Dean more than she thought possible considering their rather tense introduction to one another. Dean gets her in ways Sam doesn’t, effortlessly and without restraint. They’ve settled into an unspoken routine, Riley and Dean, and she isn’t sure what it means. So far, though, it seems to work.

“Dean,” Sam calls after they’ve been walking through the woods for a few miles and have nothing to show for it. He stands near a group of trees, all marked with claw scratches and dried blood.

“What is it?”

A chill runs down Riley’s spine. She turns around and comes face to face with an apparition of Dean, her breath catches in her throat. What does this thing want with you, Dean? She’s too engrossed in the vision of Dean’s ghost to hear the growling that surrounds the clearing.

“Too easy. . .” she mumbles. “This was too easy.”

Hailey lets out an ear-piercing scream, Riley’s hearing aids whine and she rushes to turn the volume down. She whirls around to see the others backed against a tree, Roy’s body on the ground before them.

“Dean! It’s happening!” Riley runs to his side. “The Wendigo, it led us here. It’s trying to pick us off!”

Sam’s voice sounds in her ear, “Wait, you knew about this?”

“Not now, Sam,” she scolds.

“Run, run! Go, go, go, go, go!” Dean fumbles behind him for Riley’s hand and catches her wrist, he pulls her with him and doesn’t look back.

Riley isn’t sure where Dean’s leading her, she isn’t sure she wants to ask. They crash through the trees, and she can’t see Sam or Hailey or Ben. This is exactly what she was afraid of ― it knew exactly how to lure them out to get what it wants. Staying together is their only chance at survival but Riley knows something horrible will happen before then.

Dean speeds up and her wrist slips from his hold, she runs after him. They crest over a small incline and she feels the ground behind her shake, glancing over her shoulder, she finds Dean on the ground.

“Get up, get up, get up!” She grabs for his arm and yanks him up. “Hailey,” she says.

His eyes sweep over her face, and he almost reaches out to touch her cheek. “Short Stack, find Sam and Ben. Stay with them, you know what to do.”

“But Dean,” she protests.

“Riley, go! Sweetheart, I will find you when this is all over,” he promises.

She nods. “Not if I find you first, Winchester.”

She runs in the direction she last saw Sam. I won’t let it take you, too. “Sam!”

“Riley!”

“Sammy!”

Much like yesterday, Riley crashes into something hard. It knocks the breath from her lungs; she staggers backwards, but a hand at her back keeps her from falling. Sam.

Hailey’s scream cuts through the air. Riley bristles. I will find you when this is all over. . . Riley replays Dean’s promise over in her head, it’s the only thing that brings her comfort now. Sam holds tight to Riley’s hand and they follow Ben through a clearing of trees, the direction of Hailey’s scream. They break through the thicket and find nothing.

No Hailey. No Dean.

“If it keeps its victims alive, why would it kill Roy?” Ben asks as Riley and Sam lead him through the woods. The important thing now is to regroup, track the Wendigo to its hideout, and save the others. But Sam has no idea where to even begin.

“Honestly?” he says, looking between the young boy and his best friend, “I think because Roy shot at it, he pissed it off.”

Ben continues forward. He drops to the ground, focusing on something hidden in the dirt. When he stands, he hands whatever he picked up to Sam. “They went this way,” he says, and there’s a certainty in his voice they hadn’t heard from him before now.

“What is it?” Riley asks. Sam gently squeezes her hand.

“It’s better than bread crumbs. Tink, remind me to thank you for buying Dean the large bag of peanut M&M’s.”

Riley smiles. “See? I told you they’d come in handy.”

Sam doesn’t tell her how much he misses her smile. There’s a lot he hasn’t said. Truth be told, he’s wrestling with the feeling of wishing he’d forced her to stay behind at Stanford. He can’t bring himself to admit that seeing her every day just breaks his heart all over again; it shouldn’t have been Jessica, he tells himself thousand times over. But then, does that mean wants it to have been Riley instead? Whatever the answer, Sam knows this small moment between them, this one second where everything feels normal again isn’t meant to last.

He drops the M&M back to the ground and follows the trail of them littered in the dirt, he doesn’t hold her hand now. His focus is solely on finding Dean and Hailey and with any luck, Tommy, all of them alive. Time passes slowly, without remorse as the trio treks through the woods, silent and without a clue as to what awaits at the end of Dean’s trail.

“An abandoned mine?” Riley says as Sam inspects the rundown building in front of them. “Dean’s trail led us here?”

“This is where the M&M’s stop,” Ben tells her. She gives him a small reassuring smile.

Sam pushes his way through the entrance and beckons Ben and Riley after him. The light from outside stops just beyond, and he switches on his flashlight. It’s dark and dry and so far, there are no signs of Dean or Hailey anywhere. Sam’s heart plummets. He can’t do this without his brother.

He leads Riley and Ben down the mine, checking over his shoulder every now and then to make sure Riley is still with him. The darkness makes signing impossible. Dean says it’s his responsibility to keep her safe, but he’s done a shit job of it and still isn’t doing that much better now.

Growling somewhere in the distance pulls Sam’s focus back to the task at hand. He pushes Ben and Riley behind him and they scoot off to the side, pressing themselves as close against the wall of the mine as they can get. Leaning around the corner, Sam sees the shadowed figure of the Wendigo leave through the entrance and knows this is their opportunity to find the others. Once it’s gone, he leads them around the corner where the Wendigo appeared and they continue their search.

Light filters in through small cracks in the mine, and Sam glances at Riley. The determination in her eyes is something he isn’t used to seeing. It’s a strange mixture of resilience and defiance and. . .anger. He wonders briefly if she is angry with him and decides that she has every right to be. He hasn’t been acting like her best friend in the last few days.

The floor beneath them creaks; before Sam can warn them to get back, they fall through to the ground below.

Ben looks up startled at the pile of bones they’ve landed on and jumps back, scrambling to get away. Sam’s there to comfort him.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay,” he says softly.

Ten feet away, Dean and Hailey hang by their wrists. Sam considers the Wendigo probably went out to look for the rest of them. In his relief at finding his brother, he forgets to check on Riley.

“Dean,” he says. “Dean. Hey, you okay?”

Dean groans, he wakes at the sound of his brother’s voice. “Ugh, yeah.”

“Hailey. . . Hailey, wake up,” Ben tries. “Wake up.”

Sam cuts the rope tying Dean to the ceiling and helps him down. “Gotcha. All right.” He sits Dean against the wall. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods. “Where is it?”

“It’s gone for now.”

Tommy gasps. He’s in worse shape than Dean and Hailey put together, having been strung up there for days before anyone was able to find him. Hailey looks over her shoulder at the brothers. “Cut him down.”

“Check it out,” says Dean, smiling.

Sam returns it with one of his own. “Flare gun. Those will work.”

Dean’s eyes sweep over the group, searching. He frowns. “Where’s Riley?”

“Riley?”

“Yes, Sam. Riley. Riley. Your best friend, Riley. Short Stack, Sam! She’s about this high with brown hair and piercing grey-blue eyes and an annoying knack for always being right! Where is she?”

It’s then, Sam realizes, he hasn’t seen her since they fell through the floor. His face pales. He was so wrapped up in finding Dean, in killing the Wendigo, in reuniting Hailey and Ben with their brother. . . He forgot about Riley. . .again. He panics, his heart leaps into his throat. The rage that flashes in his brother’s eyes is enough to punch a hole through his chest.

He stutters. “I-I― I don’t―”

“Damn it, Sam! Where is she?” Dean roars.

Sam rises from the floor. He’ll find her, he has to. He turns back toward the hole; he remembers falling, and picking Ben up from the pile of skeletons, and. . . He never checked for her.

Dean sees her body before Sam does. “There.” He gestures to the bones, and nestled among them is that familiar head of chestnut brown curls.

Sam sprints across the room. “Riley?” He can’t lose her, too. “Ri? You gotta wake up, Tink.” He pulls his hand away from the back of her head and it’s coated in blood. He chokes down a sob.

“You don’t get to die on me, Hot Stuff,” Dean says kneeling beside his brother, and Sam ignores the pang of jealousy that springs up in his chest. Dean replaces Sam’s hand with his own, this is not the time to stop himself from touching her. He applies pressure to the back of her skull, just enough so the bleeding slows. “We haven’t made it through that The Best of Kansas tape yet. No way I’m lettin’ you check out before then.”

Riley stirs; the brothers breathe.

“You are a terrible tour guide. I oughta kick your ass,” she says breathless.

“Atta girl,” says Dean. “How about we get you outta here first? I’ll let you kick my ass all you want after this is all over.”

She smiles, and Sam’s heart stutters in his chest. “Deal.”

“You okay up there?” Dean asks, looking up at Riley on Sam’s back. It’s the only way to make sure she stays with the group. He won’t risk leaving her behind a second time; he makes his brother do the work.

She nods her head, and Dean can see the exhaustion in her usually bright grey-blue eyes. “Mmhm,” she assures.

Growling down the mine alerts the group of the Wendigo’s return. Sam gently sets Riley on the ground, aiming his flare gun out in front of him.

“Looks like someone’s home for supper,” says Dean, scanning the mine shaft.

“We’ll never outrun it,” Hailey’s voice shakes.

Dean’s eyes pass over Tommy and Riley, they’re too injured to run even with help from the others. Dean thinks. They’ve made it this far, he refuses to give up now. He turns to his brother, calculating.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“All right, listen to me. Stay with Sam, he’s gonna get you outta here.”

Hailey stares back at him. “What are you gonna do?” He doesn’t answer.

His gaze meets Riley’s and he knows what she’s thinking. Of all the stupid things she’s watched me do. . . This is just the tip of the iceberg. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t smile, just stares into those gunmetal blue eyes. I will find you when this is all over, it’s a promise he knows he can keep.

He runs in the opposite direction without looking back. “It’s chow time, you freakin’ bastard! Yeah, that’s right! Bring it on, baby! I taste good!”

Sam watches his brother walk away and remembers all the times when they ere kids, when he wanted to grow up to be just like Dean. His strength, his fearlessness, his resilience. . .everything about Dean that makes him who he is, Sam isn’t sure he even has a modicum of the skill Dean has. But Dean is counting on him, and Sam refuses to let him down.

He ushers Hailey, Ben and Tommy forward, reaches behind him for Riley’s hand and feels the weight of it against his palm. How did things get so fucked up so quickly? He can’t even begin to figure out what he needs to do to make things right with Riley again or if he even can.

“Right over here!” In the distance, they hear Dean’s shouts to lure the Wendigo away from their location and Sam hopes his brother’s plan will work.

“All right, come on. Hurry!” Sam clears the next hallway and motions for the siblings and Riley to follow along. Riley’s slowing down and Sam knows it’s due to the wound on her head, he’s not sure how much blood she’s lost and she must make it out of the mine.

As quickly as possible, he continues to lead them through the twists and turns of the mineshaft toward the entrance. With the growling up ahead, Sam has no choice but to send them on without him and help Dean dispose of the Wendigo. It’s not the plan his brother had, but he won’t let him face off against that thing on his own.

He turns to Hailey and Ben. “Get them out of here.”

Hailey protests, “Sam, no.”

“Go. Go! Riley, go with them.”

“Not a chance in hell, Winchester.” She grits her teeth and pushes off of the wall. “You’re not leaving me behind this time.”

Her words cut through him like a knife. Of course, she’s still hanging onto that. Why wouldn’t she? She could’ve died, almost died, twice now, because of him. He knows better than to argue, especially against Riley once she has her mind set. He nods. “Okay.”

They back up against the wall, waiting. It’s still too dark for Sam to sign, all he can do is hope she follows his lead on this. He waits. Heavy footsteps echo around them, Sam turns his head to the left. The Wendigo stares them down. He points the flare gun and pulls the trigger, the Wendigo dodges the projectile. Sam grabs Riley’s hand and pulls her after him toward the exit.

“That was your brilliant plan?” she scoffs.

“We got away, didn’t we?” he answers.

“Sam! Riley!” Hailey yells.

They turn down another tunnel and meet up with the Collins siblings, they haven’t made it far without Sam’s help. But at least he’s bought them more time.

“Come on! Hurry, hurry, hurry! Go!” He pushes them forward. If they make it out of this, Sam vows to do better by Riley. Taking another turn, they’re met with a dead end as the Wendigo closes in on them. Sam us he's the group behind him, close to the wall. “Get behind me.” He feels Riley grip the back of his jacket.

If someone is going to die today, it’ll be Sam. The Wendigo stops mere feet in front of them, its large figure rears back and roars viciously. Sam swallows, his last act of heroism will be staring down the eyes of this monster before he lets it take Riley and the others. I owe her this much, he thinks.

“Hey!” Suddenly Dean’s there. He draws the Wendigo’s attention away from his brother and their friends, pulls the trigger and sends a flare directly into the center of its torso. It lights up from the inside out as the flare burns away its flesh. Dean looks up at the group. “Not bad, huh?”

Riley Thomas can’t believe the turn her life has taken in the last month. From studying for exams at Stanford, celebrating Halloween and Sam passing his LSATS, to following Sam and his estranged older brother across California to look for their father, meeting a ghost with a penchant for killing adulterers, almost dying, and now this. If anyone were to tell Riley Thomas that the true test of her life had only just begun when she met Sam Winchester three years ago, she would’ve scoffed in their faces. Now, it’s the only thing she’ll believe.

She sits on the hood of the Impala outside the Lost Creek Trail Ranger Station watching Sam help Ben give his statement to the authorities. It’s weird to think that after everything they witnessed, they have to cover their tracks with a lie. No one in their right minds will believe half the shit they tell them; she wouldn’t if she hadn’t seen it for herself.

Down the way, Dean walks with Hailey. She wrestles with the feelings of jealousy stirring in her gut. She told Hailey to go for it and that’s what she’s doing. Dean doesn’t belong to her, he doesn’t belong to anyone. The moments between them in the forest were just that, moments. Pieces of time that exist and are left behind, never to be breached again. Maybe that’s how they should stay.

The boys return to the car and Riley decides she’s fine with that. She has to be if she’s going to spend her time travelling across the country with the Winchester boys in search of their dad.

The brothers sit on either side of her and she takes a moment to be grateful that they all made it out of Black Water Ridge alive.

“Man, I hate camping,” Dean says.

“Me, too,” says Sam.

Riley hums.

“Sam, you know we’re gonna find Dad, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Riley isn’t sure she believes him, she isn’t sure he believes himself. “But in the meantime. . .I’m drivin’.”

Riley gapes at Dean as he tosses Sam the keys. He winks at her and she scoffs. “Excuse me, what happened to letting me drive?”

Dean shrugs. “Sam called dibs.”

“Dibs? Dibs?”

“Dibs,” he nods, holding the rear passenger door open for her. “Besides, Sam drivin’ gives me more time to check out those cute little hiking shorts you’ve been wearing all weekend.”

Riley’s cheeks warm at Dean’s flirting, but she quickly scowls to cover it up. “In your dreams, Romeo.”

“Dean, quit flirting with my best friend,” Sam warns, pulling out of the parking lot.

Riley Thomas decides then, that being stuck with Dean Winchester isn’t so bad.

Taglist: @iwantthedean @atc74 @nyotamalfoy @kazsrm67

[carryonwaywardkansas]

Touches Ask Game #37

I looked at the prompt list, and all of the categories start at 1. So which #37 would you like?

[carryonwaywardkansas]

Touches Ask Game

Prompts for writing human connection, intimacy, belonging.

Hand-holding

The purest form of human connection.

tiny hands in big hands

calloused hands in soft hands

cold hands in warm hands

hands with the perfect ratio to each other for hand-holding

platonic hand-holding

running their thumb over the other’s hand

dancing with their hands holding onto each other

squeezing hand for comfort and encouragement

holding hands across the table

happily doing everything with just one hand, if it means they don’t have to let go

not wanting to lose each other in a big crowd

possessive hand-holding

linking hands together during sex

grabbing hand to show them something

loosely holding onto each other’s hands, laying in one’s lap

only linking the pinkies together, not ready to let go completely

holding hands while skating

excitedly grabbing each other’s hands during a concert, jumping up and down together

playing with each other’s fingers

pressing the other’s hand against their cheek

holding hands while one is balancing on a small wall

grabbing the other’s hand to pull them back from something

holding hands under the table

only realizing it when they have to let go

standing in front of each other, holding both their hands

holding their hands above their head, fingers linked together

passionate hand-holding

grabbing the other’s hand so they don’t fall

holding hands while running through the rain

brushing against each other, linking fingers together for a second

grabbing their hand to grab their attention

not really paying attention, both doing something else, but still holding hands

bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go

holding hands while driving

grabbing the other’s hand to pull them back to them

unconsciously searching out each other’s hand while sleeping

not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out

swinging hands back and forth, skipping like children

holding hands in a museum to pull them to the next exhibition

letting go when there is an obstacle in their way and immediately grabbing each other’s hand again when they pass it

loosely holding onto each other’s hand

dragging the other with them, holding their hand

raising the other’s hand to their lips to kiss it softly

holding hands while jumping down from somewhere together

comparing hand sizes, then linking fingers together

Hugs

A warm embrace.

friendly hugs

hug around the waist

hugging while twirling around

comforting hugs

side hugs

hugging and gently holding the other’s head

pulling someone into a hug

hugging while walking

eye-to-eye hugs

hiding their face in the other’s neck

clinging to each other

hugging while lying down together

group hugs

hugging with head on shoulder

tender embrace

‘not wanting to let go’ hugs

hugging from behind

bear hugs

hugging with hands in each other’s pockets

cuddling

hugs and kisses

hugging and jumping up and down together

familiar hugs

hugging with height-difference

gentle hugs

hugging with patting on back

piggy back hugs

quick hugs

hugging while slow dancing

one-sided hugs

hugging while straddling the partner

long-lasting hugs

‘picking them up’ hugs

hugging while grabbing butt

cuddle pile

Kisses

Showing affections.

goodnight kisses

hand kisses

smiling while kissing

lips barely touching

morning kisses

slow kisses

passionate kisses

kisses on the cheek

first kisses

goodbye kisses

welcome home kisses

kisses on the corner of their mouth

frustrated kisses

kissing each other breathless

soothing kisses

nose kisses

kisses as a promise

short pecks

forehead kisses

kisses on head

“we’ll face this together” kisses

kisses in the rain

life-or-death kisses

kisses for a cover

hard kisses

giggling while kissing

desperate kisses

neck kisses

hushed conversation in-between kisses

eyelid kisses

gentle stroking of cheeks

small kisses

kissing it better

jaw kisses

wake-up kisses

kissing away tears

public kisses

relieved kisses

kisses for comfort

tummy kisses

kisses to shut them up

slowly kissing down the body

“we’ll see each other again” kisses

kissing each finger

sleepy kisses

angry kisses

feather-light kisses

kisses with trembling lips

secret kisses

kisses with their last dying breath

Touching

Feeling another human’s touch.

touching foreheads

running fingers through hair

hiding face in neck

caressing the other’s hand

feeling their pulse

patting the other’s head

holding hands

shielding the other one with their body

listening to the other’s heartbeat

spooning at night

laying their hand on the other’s neck

pushing a strand of hair behind their ear

nudging the other one

putting an arm around the other’s waist

hugging each other

massaging them

holding the other’s chin up

squishing the other’s cheek

high fiving

bandaging/stitching up an injury

kissing the other’s brow

falling asleep on the other’s shoulder

carrying the other one in their arms

whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin

stroking the other’s arm soothingly

kissing the top of their head

pulling the other one towards them

feeling for each other in the dark

tickling the other one

grabbing onto their arm

doing a pinky swear

caressing the other’s back

tasting their smile

washing the other’s body

kissing their bruises and scars

lifting the other one up

putting their head on the other’s chest

stroking their leg

leaning into the other’s side

patting them on the back

sitting close and knees touching

braiding the other’s hair

giving them a piggy-back ride

sitting on the other’s lap

feeling their temperature

linking arms with each other

touching their elbow to get their attention

dancing with each other

holding onto the other’s shoulders for support

putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

Hand-holding|Hugs|Kisses|Touching

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[carryonwaywardkansas]

Hehe. Wait until you start chapter two 😁

Carry On Kansas

Chapter One: What Riley Saw (Final)

Summary: What awaits Sam at home is the very thing he ran away from four years ago. . .

Warnings: General Supernatural warnings apply. Read at your own discretion.

A/N: And now we close out S1:E1.

Riley sleeps most of the way back to Stanford. She startles awake a few times, only to be reassured by Sam that it’s all over and she’s okay to go back to sleep. He tells her she was right about Constance, and promises they’ll talk about everything in the morning. She wakes up again as Dean pulls up outside of Sam’s apartment.

“Hey, Riley, you want me to take you home?” Dean asks her. For once he isn’t flirting with her, and she isn’t quite sure how to respond.

“What happened to ‘Short Stack?’” She stares at him dumbfounded, then blinks the shock away. “Uh, no. I think I’ll crash on Sam’s ugly couch for the night; I owe it to Jess. Thanks, though.”

“Suit yourself, Short Stack.” Dean winks, Riley wishes she were still knocked out.

“I’ll wait for you inside, Sam,” she says, nodding goodbye to Dean. It’s weird, how close she feels to the older brother after a few days on the road with him. She feels his absence instantly and momentarily wants to rewind time. She climbs the three flights of stairs to Sam and Jessica’s apartment and lets herself in with the spare key Sam hides on the top of the doorframe. The past few days were exhausting for her and she isn’t about to stay up any later than she needs to. She passes through the kitchen where Jessica left a plate of cookies out for Sam, snags one, and makes her way to the couch.

Everything is exactly as she left it on Friday night, her backpack still occupies the floor next to the couch, her textbooks still lay open on the coffee table. She sits down on the couch and feels the heaviness in her bones; she wants to stay awake until Sam comes inside, but sleep quickly overcomes her.

Sam watches Dean drive away until the Impala is just a small dot in the distance. He, too, is exhausted and ready to put the last two days behind him. He’s ready for things to go back to normal between him and Riley, ready to see Jessica, and ready for his interview with Stanford’s law program.

He slowly ascends the stairs to his apartment, his thoughts are consumed by everything he experienced with his brother and best friend. There’s still so much he need to tell her, so much he needs to apologize to her for―especially their fight. Sam’s not used to fighting with Riley, it just isn’t something they ever do. But she saw a different side of him on their trip, and he doesn’t know what that means for their friendship.

Letting himself in, he’s met with the aroma of cookies wafting through the house. “Jess? You home?”

He pokes his head into the living room, spots Riley asleep on the couch, and chuckles. Riley Thomas, you sleep like the dead, he thinks. He places a blanket over her sleeping form and can’t bring himself to leave her yet. . . How close he came to losing her, and he doesn’t know how to process the feeling deep in his chest. With one last look, he makes his way to the bedroom, Jessica is nowhere to be found, but the shower runs in the bathroom. He sighs, lays back against his pillows and falls asleep. For now, all is right in Sam Winchester’s little world.

A while later, Sam stirs awake to something warm hitting his forehead. He does his best to ignore it, opting for more sleep―whatever it is can be a problem for future Sam. The continuous drip onto his face finally annoys him enough to open his eyes. He gasps, breath catching in his throat, but he can’t move. Above him, held to the ceiling, is Jessica. Her abdomen sliced open, her cold, dead eyes stares directly into his.

“No!” Sam shrieks.

Fire ignites on the ceiling and blossoms outward, engulfing Jessica’s body in flames. Helplessly, Sam watches from their bed as his girlfriend burns above him. Sam hears his name yelled from the other side of the wall, but he doesn’t move. This is his worst nightmare come to life.

“Sam! Sam!” Dean appears in the doorway; his brother lays curled up at the foot of the bed, shielding himself from the flames, screaming out for girlfriend as the fire licks her skin. Dean rushes forward, pulls his brother up and shoves him back through the door. “Grab Riley! We need to get out of here!”

Riley. Sam tears his eyes away from his burning room; he remembers checking on Riley when he came up. He finds her sleeping form curled up on the couch. He almost forgot she was there. The smoke makes it damn near impossible to see and more impossible to breathe. He wills his legs to carry him over, his arms to lift her, and races after Dean leaving the remains of his apartment to raging fire. They make it out before the roof collapses in on them.

Sam places Riley’s unconscious body in the backseat of the Impala and straps the oxygen mask that Dean successfully stole from the back of an ambulance over her nose and mouth. There’s nothing more the fire department can do except make sure the blaze stays contained to the top floor, while the building is evacuated.

Dean watches from the crowd. He slips away and heads back to where he parked the Impala down the street, finds his brother in the trunk of the car, examining the firearms and various weapons he keeps there.

Sam’s face is shadowed in a way Dean’s never seen before. He loads the rifle in his hands and clicks the safety back on, tosses it back into the trunk of the car and closes it up. “We got work to do.”

He climbs in the backseat where Riley lays unmoving, she hasn’t woken up at all but her breathing is better. Sam thanks whatever gods are out there that he didn’t lose her tonight too. Still, he needs to be close to her. He promised to keep her alive, he always keeps his word. She has small burns on the back of her hands that blend in with the bruises from the bridge, it’s nothing the brothers can’t take care of themselves. John made sure of that much. Sam sets to work cleaning and dressing her wounds, thankful that she made it out of the fire. When he’s done, he carefully lays her head in his lap, cards his fingers through her hair and allows himself to shed tears for everything he’s lost.

Dean glances at his brother in the rearview mirror, pulling away from the apartment for the last time. He has so many questions, but no idea how to ask them. He looks back toward the road and clears his throat. “So. . .do you, uh, wanna tell me what that was back there?”

Sam composes himself as best he can. “What are you talking about?”

“Riley. I’ve seen that girl sleep through a break in, a fire, and I’m sure there’s more than just that. Hell, you hauled her out of that apartment faster than anything, and she didn’t wake up once. What’s that about?” Dean means his tone to be playful, hopes it’d put some of the life back into his little brother’s eyes. But it doesn’t.

“She didn’t hear you, she didn’t hear the fire either,” Sam says. He looks down at the sleeping girl in his lap. She’s in this now, whether she wants to be or not. He doesn’t want to think about what would’ve happened to her if he hadn’t gotten her out in time, he can’t bear the thought of living in a world where Jessica and Riley both cease to exist. He takes a deep breath and steels his emotions, meets his brother’s gaze in the mirror. “Riley lost most of her hearing when she was a little girl. She had no idea you were here the other night until Jess told her, no idea the police were at the motel until I told her.”

Dean says nothing, just nods in acceptance of this new information. He returns his eyes to the road and drives on, lets Sam do the only thing he can right then―shield Riley from the dangers of their life for a few hours more.

But this, they both know, is just the beginning.

Taglist: @iwantthedean @nyotamalfoy @kazsrm67 (it won’t let me tag you)

[carryonwaywardkansas]

Dean is the Man of the Hour, thank you and goodnight!

Carry On Kansas

Chapter One: What Riley Saw (Part Five)

Summary: With Dean in police custody, Riley and Sam head to the home of widower Joseph Welch, in search of the final clue to the Woman in White. After their interrogation takes a turn Riley doesn’t approve of, the duo find themselves in the clutches of Constance Welch’s ghost.

Warnings: General Supernatural warnings apply. Read at your own discretion.

A/N: Definitely one more part after this.

As Sam drives the few miles from town to Joseph Welch’s property, he considers the way things have gone so far. He has no idea what he’ll say to get him to talk, Dean is much better at making things up on the fly. Unfortunately for him and Riley, Dean’s in police custody and won’t be helping them out any time soon.

He glances over at Riley in the passenger seat, she doesn’t look any worse for wear considering how close they came to being arrested. Something tells him she hasn’t allowed herself time to process what happened, instead choosing to lock it away for another time. He loves Riley, but he knows there’s no way he can truly understand what’s going through her mind. He’ll have to get her to talk.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he tries after ten minutes have passed and she still hasn’t said anything.

“It’s nothing, Sam. Let’s just focus on figuring out how to get rid of Constance’s ghost so we can find your brother and get back home.” She still refuses to meet his eyes.

“You know I know you better than that. Talk to me, Tink.”

Riley sighes. “I knew your brother’s stupid credit card scam would spell trouble for us sooner or later. But I went along with it, for you, for him. Sam, you and Dean don’t have to deal with the kind of shit I do. You’re lucky enough to not have to pay close attention to your surroundings or to focus extra hard on someone when they’re talking to you or to be afraid that a timer is going to go off and you’ll miss it. But that’s my whole life, Sam. It has been for as long as I can remember, and it’s constantly getting worse. I’ve never had a problem with being Hard of Hearing, but other people do.

“It’s like they meet me and learn that I don’t have 100% of my hearing, and that somehow decides for them how they’re going to treat me. You’ve never had to worry constantly about missing when someone calls your name or having someone make fun of you because you sound a little funny when you talk. But I do, I always do. And do you know what scares me the most about it all? Not all cops are the understanding kind, they don’t all believe that everyone should be treated fairly. On the off chance that I get pulled over for something, if I’m not paying attention and I miss what they said to me, I can get in trouble for resisting arrest and it won’t matter that I couldn’t hear them.” As she finishes, Sam notes the tears that make their way down Riley’s cheeks.

“Riley, I’m― I’m so sorry. I had no idea how difficult it is for you on a daily basis.” He moves his right hand from the steering wheel, across the seat to squeeze her left one. “I promise you, nothing like that is gonna happen to you. Not while me and Dean are with you. Okay?”

She gives him a tight lipped smile and wipes her eyes as he pulls up outside of Joseph Welch’s house. There’s not much more either one can say on the matter that will make what happened go away. “So what’s our game plan, Mr. Aframian?”

Sam rolls his eyes, happy to see the smile return to his best friend’s face. “First of all, don’t call me that. Second, I’m just going to talk to him. Tell him the truth, sort of.”

The two get out of the car and make their way to the front door. Sam knocks a couple times and waits for an answer. He pushes what Riley told him to the back of his mind; he wants to talk to her about it some more but knows they need to wait until Constance’s ghost has been dealt with and they find his dad.

An older man opens the door and Sam gives him a friendly smile. “Hi, uh, are you Joseph Welch?”

The man looks between Riley and Sam carefully. “Yeah. What’s this about?”

“We’re looking for someone and we’re hoping you could tell us if you’ve seen him.” Sam hands Joseph the old photo of him and Dean as kids with their dad.

“Yeah, he was older, but that’s him. He came by three or four days ago, said he was a reporter,” Joseph says, handing the photo back to Sam. He leads him and Riley around the side of the house.

“That’s right, we’re working on a story together.”

“Well, I don’t know what the hell kinda you’re working on―the questions he asked me.”

“About your late wife, Constance,” Riley speaks up on the other side of Sam.

Joseph stops, looking at the two strangers in front of him. “He asked me where she was buried.”

“And―forgive me―where is that again?”

“What, I gotta go through these twice?”

“It’s fact-checking, if you don’t mind,” Sam says.

“In a plot behind my old place over on Breckenridge,” Joseph answers willingly.

“If you don’t mind me asking―why did you move?” Riley asks sincerely.

“I’m not gonna live in the house where my children died.”

Sam briefly exchanges a look with Riley, then turns his attention back to Joseph. “Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?”

He shakes his head. “No way. Constance―she was the love of my life, prettiest woman I ever known.”

“So you had a happy marriage?” Sam continues, fishing for as many details as Joseph is willing to give.

“Definitely,” he assures.

“Well, that should do it. Thanks for your time.” Sam moves to the driver’s door as Riley walks around to the passenger side. He pauses, looks up at Riley before turning back to Joseph Welch, ignoring the warning look she throws his way. “Mr. Welch, you ever hear of a woman in white?”

“Sam!” Riley hisses quietly. She can’t believe he’s really going to do this.

Joseph turns around, confused. “A what?”

“A Woman in White,” Sam repeats slowly. “Or sometimes a Weeping Woman. It’s a ghost story. Well, it’s more of a phenomenon, really. Um, they’re spirits.”

“Sam, seriously. Back. Off.”

“They’ve been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places in Hawaii and Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women, you understand, but all share the same story.”

“Boy, I don’t care much for nonsense. Now, you should listen to your little friend here and get going.”

“You see, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them. And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.”

“Sam, fucking stop it.” Riley is fuming, she had no idea that Sam would stoop as low as to openly accuse someone of cheating on their wife. Dean, maybe, but not Sam. Never Sam.

“Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways―and if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him, and that man is never seen again.”

Having heard enough, Riley gets in the car and slams the door. She looks on angrily as Sam finishes talking to old widower, his face twists in pain. He’s forced to confront the fact that he hurt his wife while she was still alive, forced to believe that he somehow was the catalyst to the death of his children. And for that, Riley isn’t quick to forgive Sam at all.

He joins her in the car with a deep sigh; his best friend has just witnessed him accuse another man of murdering his children by extension, and she is pissed. He can feel her staring daggers at him, can feel the anger and frustration rolling off of her in waves. Sam clears his throat and starts the car. “Do you wanna talk about it or let it go?” He looks over to see her seething, her mouth pulled into a hard scowl. “Look, Riley, you have to understand―”

“Oh, I understand you perfectly, Sam Winchester”―she turns her body to face him―“you pride yourself so much on being a different man than your dad or your brother, but what the hell was that? You know, the last two days you’ve been trying to convince Dean that you’re nothing like him, but that? Sam, that wasn’t you. It was all Dean, and it was totally uncalled for.”

When they make it back through town, Riley has settled on giving Sam the silent treatment. It’s childish and cruel, but his actions displayed him in a new light. If that’s what hunting turns him into, she’s not so sure she wants to be along for the ride. Unfortunately, she’s in this now and there’s no going back until they complete what they’ve set out to do.

The sun set hours ago, they’re driving down pitch black roads with nothing but the Impala’s headlights to guide the way. The tension between them is unbearably heavy; Sam’s said nothing else after Riley laid into him about his handling of Joseph Welch, and she’s grateful that he at least knows how to keep his mouth shut. She’s considering giving him a break when his phone cuts through the lonely silence. She reaches across the seat and answers it, putting the call on speaker.

“Fake 911 phone call, Sammy? I don’t know, that’s pretty illegal,” Dean’s says on the other end of the line.

“You’re welcome,” Sam chuckles. He glances at Riley but she refuses to look at him.

“Listen, we gotta talk,” Dean continues.

“Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a Woman in White. She’s buried behind her old house―”

“Sammy, would you shut up for a second?” Dean tries unsuccessfully.

Sam prattles on, “I just can’t figure out why he hasn’t destroyed the corpse yet.”

“Well, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s gone. Dad left Jericho.”

“What? How do you know?”

“I’ve got his journal.”

“He doesn’t go anywhere without that thing.”

“Yeah, well, he did this time.”

As the brothers talk, a familiar cold presence prickles Riley’s skin. She lifts her hand to her face, the sensation of ice lingers on her left cheek. It’s then, she realizes, the temperature in the Impala has grown cold. . .colder than it’s been in days. She turns to look over her shoulder and meets the barely-visible apparition of Sam that she’s seen consistently over the last couple weeks. Its hair is disheveled, and it looks at her with sad, haunting eyes.

“What do you want from me?” she whispers, not wanting to draw Sam’s attention to it just yet.

The apparition sits stone-still, staring back at Riley unmoving. It’s right hand lifts to touch her cheek, and Riley sees five claw-like marks appear in the middle of its chest. She’s speechless, reaching back for it as it has her when Sam slams on the breaks and the Impala comes to a screeching halt.

“Sam, what the hell?”

He grips the steering wheel, panting heavily. When he looks over at Riley who is just as shaken up as he is, in that moment he forgets that they aren’t speaking to each other. His right hand moves across the seat for her cheek, a worried expression in his hazel eyes, the same look the apparition of him gave her.

“Are you all right?” He asks, studying her face.

It all makes sense to her then. Sam’s ghost came to her as a warning―so had Dean’s―to stay away, to be careful, to stay together. She doesn’t see ghosts because they’re dead, no, she sees them as a method of communication. As a way to make sure they stay alive.

“Sam, we have to go. We can’t stay here, we can’t do this without Dean,” Riley says, frantically looking around the car. Constance’s ghost is nearby, and Sam will be her next victim if Riley can’t convince him to leave. “Sammy, you have to trust me. Her spirit is coming for you, she’s been watching you―watching us this whole time. She thinks you’re cheating on Jess with me.”

“Riley, that’s insane,” Sam scoffs. He loves Riley, sure, but he loves Jessica Moore more than life. He wants to build his future with her, cheating on Jessica isn’t something Sam Winchester is capable of.

“I know, but Constance doesn’t. We ha―” Riley’s sentence is cut off, as a choking sob is ripped from her throat. She raises her hands to her neck, but there’s nothing there. She looks at Sam, panicked and helpless.

“Take me home,” a voice speaks from the backseat, Constance.

“Let her go,” Sam tells her defiantly. He stares at her reflection in the rearview mirror.

“Take me home,” she demands again.

“No. Now, let her go.” Sam’s eyes move from the mirror to Riley, her eyes shine with tears as she struggles to breathe. He can’t stand seeing her injured because of him when they’ve done nothing wrong. He vowed to get her home safely, and he intends to keep it.

The hold Constance has on Riley tightens until the young woman blacks out. She locks the doors, puts the car in gear, and presses the gas pedal to the floor. Constance has full control of the car, and is driving it to the house on Breckenridge.

“Hey, hey. Riley, stay with me.” Sam swallows down the near blinding panic rising in his chest, he ant afford to make any mistakes and risk his or Riley’s lives any more than they already are. God, how he wishes Dean were here. He’d know what to do. He leans over and checks Riley’s pulse at the soft hollow spot beside her windpipe, it’s faint against his fingertips. . .too faint. There isn’t much else he can do as they speed down the road. He resists kissing the top of her hair. “I’m gonna get us out of this, Tink.”

The Impala comes to a stop outside of an old, abandoned two-story house―Constance’s resting place. The house is rundown, rickety, left alone after the violent deaths of its matron and her children. Sam looks back at her in the mirror. He swallows. “Don’t do this.”

“I can never go home,” she says.

“You’re scared to go home.” It’s a realization that none of them thought of. Sam turns to face her but the backseat is empty. He returns to Riley, only to be met with Constance between them. She lunges, sits in his lap and pins him to the seat. He lets go of Riley as he’s slammed back into the driver’s seat. “Leave her alone.”

“Hold me. I’m so cold.”

“You can’t kill me. I’m not unfaithful, I’ve never been.”

“You will be.”

Constance settles herself on Sam’s lap, leans forward slowly, and kisses him. It’s just as Riley said, just as she warned. The ghost releases her hold on Riley, and focuses solely on the man beneath her.

Sam fumbles blindly for the keys in the ignition as Constance sits up again, disappearing as quickly as she came. He shifts his gaze to Riley’s unconscious form, silently cursing himself for not leaving her back at the motel. What will he tell Jessica if he shows up back home without her? His thoughts end abruptly, searing pain tears through his chest. Unzipping his jacket reveals five finger-sized holes in the middle of his rib cage. Constance reappears with her right hand sinking into his chest directly over his heart; she no longer appears as the beautiful woman they encountered on the bridge, instead dead and decayed, and still just as angry.

Gunshots tear through the air outside the Impala, busting in the driver’s window and straight through to the passenger side. Shattered glass litters the seat and floor around Sam and Riley, Constance disappears and reappears again on his lap. She reaches over to grab Riley’s throat with her left hand. Dean fires off a few more rounds and approaches the car.

Sam sits up and turns the keys in the ignition, he puts the car into gear and steps on the gas pedal. “I’m taking you home.”

“Sam!” Dean’s shouts are drowned out by the roar of the engine, watching his brother drive the car through the front of the house. It crashes through the wall and stops in the front room. Dean carefully wades through the debris to the passenger side of the car. “Sam? You okay?”

“I think,” he calls out to his brother. He blinks his eyes as the dust settles; Riley remains unconscious. Panic begins to rise again. “Riley’s unconscious, Constance grabbed her before I could get her out.”

“She still breathing?” Dean asks, reaching through the window. He pulls Riley free and gently lays her on the floor. They never meant for her to get hurt. This is exactly why Dean didn’t want her here. He silently curses himself and his brother.

“Barely, but she’s still alive.”

“Can you move?”

“Yeah, help me.”

The brothers bend down and lift Riley from the floor, each one wrapping one of her arms around their shoulders. They look up at Constance’s ghost; she glides back away from them, sending a dresser forward and pinning the three of them against the side of the car. The boys grip tight to Riley’s waist, keeping her upright. They struggle against the dresser but it won’t budge. Electricity crackles in the lights around the room, water rushes down the stairs. Sam and Dean watch Constance move to the last step, staring up at the top. They see two shadowy figures standing at the top of the stairs, the ghosts of her children.

They speak to her softly. “You’ve come home to us, Mommy.”

The children appear behind her, they reach for her body. Constance screams. She falls to the floor in a blast of red and blue flames, her body burns, her spirit is ripped from the physical world before Sam and Dean’s eyes. With one final scream, Constance leaves for good.

Sam holds tight to Riley’s body as Dean pushes the dresser onto its back. He picks her up, cradling her body against his chest. She looks fragile this way, but Sam knows she’s so much more. The brothers head over to the spot where the Woman in White stood moments before, a puddle of water left behind in her place.

“So this is where she drowned her kids,” Dean deadpans.

“That’s why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them,” Sam confirms.

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” Dean pats Sam on his chest, hitting the spot where Constance plunged her hand into Sam’s ribs.

Sam lets out a pained laugh, shakes his head at his older brother’s antics. “Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?”

“Hey, saved your ass.” Dean turns his attention to inspecting the Impala. “I’ll tell you another thing―if you screwed up my car, I’ll kill you.”

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