jetfics

[jetfics]

Prom?

A/N: here ya go @abbessolute I hope you like it :)

Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester, Reader, John (sorta)

Warnings: language towards the end, fluff-ish

Word Count: 4,168

Summary: Reader has a little prom mishap

“I don’t know, Dean. I don’t know if any of the girls around here would go for a guy like you. You’re the drifter kind. They all seem pretty hometown-y,” Sam said as he moved to push open the door of the boathouse, following behind his brother, both of them trying to get back to the car so John wouldn’t get on their case for dawdling.

“You might be right but did you SEE that girl at the counter? I could feel our connection,” Dean said with conviction, to which Sam scoffed. Of course Dean would say something like that.

“Dean the only thing you can feel is  th-” Sam didn’t get to finish what he was saying because at that moment he collided with another person on the walkway.

“Sorry! I didn’t see you! Are you okay?” He held out his hand towards the person, who he could now see was a girl.

“Uh, yeah. I’m… I’m fine, sorry.”

She was very quiet and Dean automatically frowned, big brother senses kicking in. She was definitely not okay.

“Hey, you sure about that?” he said as he knelt next to the girl who was still on the ground. Upon his closer look, he could see that she had a little blood right under her nose that she had probably tried to wipe off. There was also a small cut above her eyebrow. Curious.

“Ye..ah…”

He held out his hand and she didn’t take it as she pushed herself off the ground, swiping a sleeve under her nose and turning to look behind her.

“Okay, well.. Sorry for running into you, I guess. See you around…” Sam said uncertainly as Dean stared her down intensely.

“Me too,” then she was gone. Walking around the boathouse and disappearing.

“Dean, what was all that about?”

“She was not okay, Sammy. She looked like someone had taken some good swings at her… Did you not see the bloody nose?”

“It could have just been a shadow, Dean. Dad’s waiting for us...”

“Yeah, just shadows…” Dean looked behind him at the girl’s retreating back and tried to shake the feeling. Frowning, Sam grabbed his brother by the jacket and tugged him towards John and the Impala, impatient to stay on their fathers not-bad side.

The next day John dropped them both off at the high school, giving them the same speech as usual. Be ready right after school, lie if you have to about your lifestyle, yadda yadda. They both nodded through it and then walked into the school, grim faced. It was gonna be a long day. They parted ways at the office and Sam looked eager for school.

As Dean found his way to his first class, he noticed that the girl from the other night was picking her way through the teenagers and staring at the floor as she did so. She looked even worse off than last night, a bruise forming above her eye and there was a cut on her nose that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Hey!” He called out to her. She didn’t look at him, but instead pushed right past his body and didn’t say a word. Frowning, Dean looked after her once and then resumed his search for his classroom. The girl crossed his mind once more before he had to focus on the actual schoolwork, and then no more.

----

Two months later:

“(Y/N/N)! Come sit with me and Sammy!” Dean called, spotting you heading towards the usual table, taking a seat next to the younger Winchester and across from Dean.

“Hi,” you said, still grinning.

“Dean has something to ask you,” Sam blurted before anyone could say anything more. Dean glared at his brother.

“I…just… I was wo-”

“Hey Amanda! I have a question for you, sweetheart,” a voice said. Frowning a little bit, you turned and came face to face with one of the transfer students. He was a Junior and you noticed him around the halls but never actually paid him any attention until now. He was reasonably attractive, and would be even more so if he hadn’t said “sweetheart” or called you by the wrong name.

“Uh…” was the reply.

“I don’t have a date for the prom yet and I figured I’d ask you if you’d like to go with me?” He smiled at you, and something about it felt wrong but you were caught completely off guard and didn’t pick up on that. But Dean and Sam did. Dean let out a quiet growl and Sam elbowed him, giving a dangerous look to his brother.

“I, uh, I… sure?”

“Bangin! Talk to you later then, babe,” and he walked away. Brandon. That was his name, you thought as he walked away towards a big group of guys waiting just outside the doors to the cafeteria. You turned back to the boys and were met with a red faced Dean and a shocked Sam.

“What?”

“You just… he asked you… why did you say yes?!” Dean nearly yelled, only keeping it down because he realized that he was in public.

“What, you thought I wouldn’t get asked?” you said with a frown.

“No-”

“Dean…. You know what, forget it. I’m gonna go… do homework.” you said as you stood up and threw out lunch, trying to keep from crying in front of either of them. As you made your way to the library, you let yourself think a little bit.

It had been two months since you’d first met the Winchester brothers. You had run into Sam and Dean at the local Yacht club. Literally. It wasn’t usual for you to be there, but there had  been a party. A friend of a friend had invited you, apparently someone’s parents had a big boat budget and bought a two story yacht. It was just a whim. You hated parties in general, but it had been a desperate attempt for some distraction. Your boyfriend had just cheated on you and tried to blame it on the fact that you wouldn’t have sex with him. That relationship ended as fast as you could push him out of your house. So a party was the perfect distraction. Get hammered, maybe talk to some reasonably cute people, go home and sleep it off. Good for at least one night unencumbered with guilt. But that’s not really what had happened. Instead, you’d gotten there, had one drink then was unceremoniously dragged off the boat by two guys. They had walked alongside of you, “escorting” you towards someplace dark and grassy. Trying to get away, you’d kicked one of them in the balls and gave the other one a good hard punch to the stomach. Before you could run though, one of them knocked you in the face with a closed fist and there had been stars. But it turned out to not be enough to hinder you from finally bolting. It was after that when you literally ran right into Sam, embarrassed and frightened. After that, you’d seen both of them at school, they noticed, or Dean noticed, and befriended you. It was odd. They were on the social fringes, just moved to town, loners. But once you got to know them, the Winchester boys were the sweetest, most hilarious people you had ever been around. It was easy to fall for the eldest boy, he seemed like everything you wanted in a guy. Nothing like your father or ex douchebag. But you didn’t want to ruin anything you guys had as friends and so you pushed any feelings to the back of your mind and focused on being friends with him instead. It was working well.

Sitting down in a chair in the back of the library, you pulled your knees up to your chest, tried to stop thinking about the Winchesters and focus on the fact that someone had asked you to prom. Granted, he was a junior and you were a senior, but still… prom. Maybe the year would end on a better note than it started.

---

Prom was tomorrow and you were actually excited. You had your dress, you knew how the makeup and hair was going to go and you had decided not to wear heels, so you’d be your normal height. You were so excited that you didn’t realize the fact that Brandon hadn’t actually TALKED to you in a week and a half. He’d ignored you and every attempt to interact. But if you noticed, you didn’t say anything and continued getting stuff together for the dance. It was gonna be special. You had never been the kind of person to get asked to things or to go to them at all, but senior year must be an exception, right?

It was midnight before you actually sat down and took a breath. Thursday meant after school you worked until ten and then came home to do homework. Thursdays were busy and you were glad to be done. In just about eighteen hours it would be senior prom and you’d be having fun. Maybe there’d even be an afterparty, who knew? Smiling at no one, you headed up to your room, falling into bed immediately and sleeping like a baby.

The next day at school, you ran into Dean at the lockers.

“Dean… what are you doing?” you asked him wearily as he leaned against the door grinning.

“Just admiring the view,” your stomach gave a little jump but you refused to acknowledge it.

“Quit it. You know how much I don’t like it when you joke with me.”

He wasn’t joking though. You just didn’t know it. He wanted to bad to tell you how he felt but he couldn’t seem to do it. Sam kept pestering and saying that if he didn’t do it soon, he’d never get a chance to. Dean knew his brother was right. John wouldn’t leave them in Sioux Falls for long, he figured. It would probably be at most another month and a half before they’d be out hunting again.

“I ain’t jokin, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, ok. What do you want, tough guy?”

“Nothing, I just feel like we haven’t seen each other in forever. I miss my girl!”

“I’ll tell you what. Come by after school. You can help me get ready for prom,” you grinned at the thought of him helping her with her hair or makeup.

“I don’t know if I’m any good with that girl stuff but I’ll be there,” he gave you a smile that reached his eyes and made them sparkle. You loved when they did that.

“Okay then. I’ll see you at lunch then, Dean-o?”

“Hell yeah, (Y/N/N).”

With a laugh, you grabbed your stuff and said bye to him, heading to the first classes of the day. Everything went so slowly, lunch came and went and then, finally, school was over. Everyone was obviously excited for the dance that night and there was no lack of talking and yelling in the hall as they all headed home to get ready.

You was just about to leave when you felt a hand grab your arm. Whirling around expecting one of the Winchesters, you came face to face with Brandon. Giving him a wide smile, you went to say hello but he started talking first.

“Hey so you know how I asked you to go to the dance tonight? Yeah… I don’t really think you and I would be good together… I’m gonna go with Jamie from third hour… I hope you don’t mind,” He smiled patronizingly, patted you on the cheek and then turned around and walked away, a couple of guys on his heel, snickering. Your smile, which was still plastered on your face, began fading as the realization of what had just happened sunk in. He probably never even planned on actually going with you. It was probably all just a huge joke. Attempting to keep tears from making a very untimely appearance, you pushed your way through the few people who were lingering on the front steps of the school trying to get to the car as fast as possible.

“(Y/N/N)! Hey, hold up!” Dean had the worst timing.

“Not now Dean,” you called without looking back.

“But…” Now you were crying as you slid into the driver’s seat and tried to drive the speed limit while simultaneously booking it out of the parking lot. It took  a lot longer than normal to get home, due to the fact that you could barely see, but you managed it. When you pulled into the driveway, there was a familiar black Impala waiting.

“This can not be happening right now,” you whispered to the inside of her car. Wiping your face off and taking a stuttering breath, you stepped out onto the sidewalk, head down, trying to avoid Dean and/or Sam.

“(Y/N)! What’s going on! Hey!” Dean. Was Sam with him? That would be golden. The two greatest people in your life seeing you have a breakdown... over a guy.

“Go home Dean.”

“I thought I was gonna help you get ready though…” He followed you inside and shut the door behind him. Ok, well, at least no Sam.

“No, not anymore.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, just go home.” You were quickly losing any will to not cry more. Crying sucked and you tried to avoid it at all costs. It was extremely difficult to keep at bay in light of the events that had gone down, though.

“(Y/N/N), talk to me,” his voice had gone soft and it was so damn hard to keep your composure.

“Brandon… what even did he do? He canceled? Bailed? I dunno what the right word for it is, but that happened.”

“He blew you off? The douchebag…”

You absolutely couldn’t control it anymore. The tears came and with them it was just sob after sob that hurt your lungs and made you feel like you were going to suffocate.

“Hey, no, no, did I say something?”

You shook your head no.

“Why are you crying? He was just a stupid kid.”

“I’m angry!” You finally got out. And then, you were on a roll, “I’m angry because I’m crying in front of you, I’m angry because I can’t even get a date to my senior fucking prom, I’m angry because I’m me and I hate myself damn it! I mean… I guess I thought I could get a break, what with it being my senior year and maybe it might end on a good note. Brandon was probably a douchebag, sure. I didn’t see it because I was so damn stuck in my own little world planning for something that he knew was a joke all along. I’m just a huge fucking joke to everyone apparently. I mean… my dad couldn’t stick around, I can’t find any guy who is remotely interested in me unless it’s for sex and I am living with my grandmother who can’t even control her own bladder anymore. I’m a joke, my life is a joke and I don’t even know how much more of this shit I can handle and-”

“(Y/N) stop. Take a breath, sit down and just shut. Up.” Dean put his hands on your shoulders and guided you to the couch.

“Listen to me very closely because I’m not about to repeat myself. You’re not any of those things. Not a joke, and you shouldn’t hate yourself because, sweetheart, have you seen yourself?”

“But…”

“No, (Y/N/N). I don’t think this is even about Bran-douchebag. I think he just reinforced all of this bullshit that you’ve got running around your head. None of which is true.”

“How do you know though?”

“Because two months is enough time for me to get to know a person and realize how much I like them. And you’re it, my girl.”

“What are you saying, Dean?” You were trying to follow his reasoning but still hiccuping and a little confused from your outburst, it was hard.

“What I’m saying is that you’re my favorite person, aside from Sammy, in the world. I’m saying that your brown eyes aren’t just brown, they’re my favorite fucking color. And your hair, damn it (Y/N), I don’t know what it is about your hair but it blows my mind. And your jokes. They’re so bad and I love them. I could go on and on, but you have a prom to get ready for and I’m supposed to be helping you and not spilling my guts here…”

“Dean... will you go with me?”

“What… to prom? Me?”

“Yes… you…”

“I’d love to,” he said with a grin on his face. He reached towards you and wrapped you in the most un-platonic hug he’d ever given to a girl. It was wonderful and comforting and you wondered why you’d never said anything to him before about how you felt.

“You have a suit or anything?”

“I’ve got one, yep. I’ll run home and get it and be right back, okay? I’m plan to make tonight amazing for you.”

“After that speech… I don’t think there’s much else you gotta do,” you grinned and watched as he ran out to his car.

He didn’t take away how you felt, but he definitely made you question the bad thoughts. Maybe that’s the best it would get. You weren’t complaining.

It took him approximately twenty minutes before he was back at the house in a tux, looking handsome. You were sitting in front of the mirror putting on makeup. He had his hands running through you hair in lieu of a brush and it was amazing.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he grinned at you in the mirror and you gave it right back with a blush.

“Hello?” Sam called from downstairs.

“Up here, Sammy!”

The lanky boy could be heard clambering up the stairs and then down the hall, appearing in the doorway.

“Hey! You guys look good! Dean filled me in on the situation. Sorry about Brandon, (Y/N).”

“Aw thanks Sam. It’s okay. I mean… it’s not okay, but I have a feeling that it doesn’t matter much either way. Dean talked me out of killing him outright,” you laughed. Sam gave a smile and held up the dress that was hanging on the back of the door.

“This what you’re gonna wear?”

“Yup! It matches with her hair, doesn’t it Sammy?” Dean said excitedly.

The other two people in the room gave him a strange look and he blushed.

“I can appreciate coordination sometimes….”

“Okay, whatever then, Deanna,” Sam snorted.

“What are you even doing here, dude?” Dean grumbled.

“Moral support. I figured she’d need a lot of it if she’s going with you, you dumbass.”

“Be nice, Sam. He is my date, even if he is a big goof,” Amy sad humorously.

“Well… when you two are ready, I’ve got the camera. I’ll be playing the part of the clingy parent.”

“I’m ready now. (Y/N), you gonna be ready soon? We’ve got like… twenty minutes to get there if we wanna get good parking.”

“Yeah, just gotta get my dress on, give me a minute.”

You went to the bathroom, changed and was out, ready to go.

“You look fantastic, (Y/N/N).” Dean said with a content smile. He would think (Y/N) looked beautiful in a t-shirt and jeans but it was nice seeing you dolled up.

“To prom, then, kids!”

“Sam, you’re younger than both of us…”

“Don’t talk back to me, young man. Now come take a picture before you go.”

You and Dean chuckled and followed orders, posing at the staircase like normal people do. After the pictures were all taken and retaken, Sam shooed you both out of the house and into the Impala, sliding in the back.

“What? I can’t just stay at your house…”

“Sam, go take my car. I’ll just have Dean drive me to it.”

“Thanks, (Y/N)! I’ll see you guys later. Have fun!”

And then you were off.

Arriving at the school and finding parking was a breeze. Checking in was also not bad. The decorations were beautiful, it was a “Phantom Of The Opera” theme, so everything was elegant and the music was absolutely beautiful orchestral compositions mixed with some up to date pop. But Dean only saw (Y/N), which sounded cheesy but it was true. You just blew his mind every time he thought about you.

“Dean, you want to get something to drink?”

“Yeah, why not? I’ll go get it if you want to go grab a good table.”

“Deal,” you grinned and was off to find them the best table. People were straggling in the doors with their dates and sitting down and getting food and you couldn’t believe how surreal it felt. Sure, it was just prom but it was more than that, too. It was the end to a year. It was the end of your high school career and you couldn’t be more happy that it was over. Despite all the bad that had happened, it was still a memory. And Dean was a part of it, which made it even better.

“Penny for your thoughts, (Y/N/N)?”

“Ah nothing. I’m just thinking about how glad I am that high school is basically over.”

“Me too, kid. Me too.”

“I’m not a kid, Dean. We’re the same age.”

“You’re still a kid. Deal with it,” he grinned.

“Whatever. You want to dance?”

“Hell yeah. Though, I gotta warn you, my moves are deadly,” Dean countered, cockily.

“Better prove that one to me, mister,” You stood and took his hand, following him to the floor amongst other people and stepped close to him.

“Starting slow, I like the way this is going already,” Dean whispered in your ear.

“Me too… You don’t slow dance half bad,” you replied.

“Thanks,” and he seemed genuinely thankful.

Just when you both were getting into a good rhythm, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Dean growled and you heard him whisper, “Don’t turn around. Just keep dancing.” So you did. Even when there was another tap.

“Dude, a little busy here?” your date said.

“I’m pretty sure she was my date first?”

“Brandon,” you said, standing up straighter and turned around, against Dean’s warning.

“Hi, douchebag. How’s prom going?”

“Hey, don’t talk to me like that.”

“Why, gonna ditch me again?” you were fuming.

“No, I’m just gonna be sitting over there,” he pointed to a table in the corner, “when this guy decides to wise up. I’d still like to get to know you, even though coming together didn’t work out,” he grinned, obviously pleased with his little speech. You could feel dean prickling behind you, ready to jump on this guy and beat him to a pulp, but you put a hand on his arm.

“Brandon,” you said sweetly, “that looks like a nice table you have over there. You know what?”

“What?” he looked like he was waiting for you to agree to go with him to his dark table.

“You know what you can do at that table? Go fuck yourself,” and then you turned back to Dean and tried to ignore the boy behind you. It became kind of hard when he grabbed your shoulder and yanked you around.

“Hey!” Both you and Dean shouted. Your date went to push Brandon, but he took a swing first.

“Bad idea, you son of a bitch!” you said under your breath before hauling back and hitting the douchebag straight in the nose as hard as you could. You definitely broke it. He looked stunned for a few seconds before he started screaming and crying. You turned to Dean and widened your eyes, he was looking the same way at you.

“We should probably go, before we get arrested or something…”

He nodded and grabbed your hand, pulling you out the door as people started to gather around they mewling boy on the gym floor.

You both were laughing as you got into the Impala and drove away.

“Hey, I’m sorry your prom didn’t really go how you wanted it, but I thought it was pretty cool…”

“No, it was perfect. Even though we were only there for like.. Half an hour,” you laughed.

“I’m glad you had fun then,” Dean said with a smile.

“Me too. I’m glad I went with you.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking over at you.

“Now to finish senior year for real,” you said, looking out at the road.

“You’ll do it. And you’ll go to college and be super successful and one day, I’ll be able to say ‘I took her to prom senior year!’ and no one will believe me, but I’ll know.”

“Yeah… maybe. But for now… Lets just get out alive.”

“Deal.”

[jetfics]

The Perils of A Misplaced Towel

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Original Female Character (Quinn)

Warnings: Some blood, nothing gory

Word Count: 1,835

Summary: Quinn wants to shower after being bedridden for a week and it leads to some complications with her stitches. Dean nearly has a heart attack. It’s a fun time. 

(first person)

Sam and Dean had left two days ago to help Bobby with a Rougarou case in Sioux Falls and they had left me behind. They did have good reason to, this time. The last case we three had been on together was a Wendigo hunt. We don’t usually hear of those too much but when we did it was a nice change of pace from all the demons and apocalypse stuff that our job had become. But it had turned out to be a really crappy weekend. 

I got kidnaped by the creature, Sam and Dean got lost in the woods and I had to kill the thing without backup. Which, naturally, didn’t go off without a hitch. At all. In fact, it would be surprising if it could have gone worse, aside from me dying. I managed to get myself untied from where it was keeping me, but being the short girl that I am, I was pretty far off the ground, which meant that when I landed I heard a horrendous crack and then I blacked out from the pain. When I woke up, I was still on the ground thankfully, but my ankle was broken and I had to get up and find my weapons, then wait for the monster, who decided to try and mince me before eating me, which ended badly for the both of us. He died and I got a nasty looking gash all the way from my knee to my hip that ended up needing about 100 or more stitches from Sam. And after all of that, I still had to drag myself out of that stupid cave and start screaming for those numb-nuts until they found me. Or at least, that’s what they say. I was unconscious by the time they got there. I somehow managed to score some sick bruises and cuts and a sprained wrist as well. That’s why I was left behind and honestly, I was completely okay with it. I was still in a lot of pain and the extra strength Tylenol wasn’t doing much for me after about a week of sleep and no movement.

I desperately needed a shower though, and I was too embarrassed to ask one of the guys to help me out, thus my last one had been before the hunt. Which was absolutely disgusting and I had reached my limit on how long I could keep my hair hidden under a bandana until I had to wash it. So, I slid myself gingerly off of my now very uncomfortable bed and limped my way down the hall into the huge bathroom. With care, I pulled my tank top off, over the Walmart bought wrist brace, and tossed it into the corner to be washed later. Thankfully I was only wearing my underwear (something I rarely got to do with Sam, Dean and Zeke) lurking around in the bunker) so they weren’t a huge hassle to get off. Limping some more, I turned on the warm water, careful not to make it too hot, and stepped into the cubicle that was quickly steaming up. The water felt like absolute bliss as it wet my extremely dirty hair and ran down my still sore back. I closed my eyes, enjoying the moment before I had to actually work to get myself clean. The only shampoo in the shower was Dean’s, because I had forgotten to buy some of my own the last time I had gone on a supply run. None-the-less, I used my good hand and dumped some on to my head and then started scrubbing. No one ever tells you how hard it is to wash long hair without both hands…. And on top of that, the soap was starting to run down my leg and get into my bandages, consequently burning when it came into contact with my very recent wound. Great. I quickly finished rinsing my hair, washing my body and then shut the water off, loathe to leave the warmth of the shower. Shivering as I stepped out into the always cold air (Sam and his A/C…), I snatched a towel from one of the hooks and wrapped it around myself, hobble-running back to my room where I immediately pulled on a hoodie, underwear and comfy shorts. Then I began to unwrap my leg, wanting to redress the newly stitched wound. Wet bandages are awful. It was then that I wished my brother wasn’t in school. He was good at dressing wounds. With a sigh, I resigned myself to my ”job”. On my way to get new gauze and wrap, I clumsily tripped over my towel and immediately felt a blinding pain. I had ripped them. I had ripped my stitches. Or some of them… Looking down, the first thing I noticed was the blood. There wasn’t supposed to be that much from just a ripped stitch or two… Thinking quickly, I sat on the floor and put the offending towel over the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. Then I slid over on my butt to the desk where I kept a spare med kit. I pulled out the suture needle, I could fix it myself. No need to call the guys and scare them. Just then, the towel slipped off my leg, leaving a trail of white hot pain and blood. With what was probably a very manly grunt, I dropped the needle and as I tried to find it with my vision going in and out, I got dizzy and then passed out. My last thought was that I was a dead woman. I was going to bleed out on the floor and when the boys found my body, they’d know I died because i was too stubborn to call for help. 

(third person) 

“Quinn! Hey! We brought back some of that nasty pistachio ice cream you like!” Dean called as he and Sam descended the stairs into the “war room”. Sam frowned when he didn’t hear her shout from another room. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe she’s on the can?” he shrugged.

“Probably showering. Singing the Grease soundtrack, be my guest,” Sam laughed.

“Say it ain’t so, Sammy!” Dean cried dramatically in a terrible southern accent and his brother laughed back. He went to put the ice cream in the freezer and Dean shouldered his duffel, trudging back to his room. Then he made quick work of walking to the bathroom for a nice, hot, well deserved shower. On the way, he noticed that the door was open to the bathroom and there was steam still on the mirror inside. So she had been showering. He grinned to himself and stepped in preparing to scare the living shit out of her, only to find a pile of clothes in the corner. That was unusual. She usually was very conscientious about leaving any mess lying around. With a small frown and a niggling feeling in his gut, he walked back out of the bathroom and to her door. He knocked a few times with no answer and then decided that if she was naked she would have said something. With a firm push, the door swung inwards and revealed a pristinely kept room and a very unconscious Quinn on the floor.

“SAMMY!” Dean yelled as he rushed to the girl on the floor, checking for a pulse. Sam came flying in, gun raised only a few seconds later. When he saw Quinn, he put the gun away and quickly found his way next to his brother.

“How did she do this?!”

“Dude, now is not the time. We don’t know how long she’s been out!”

“Yes, okay! I’ll be right back!” He ran to the bathroom, wet a towel and hurried back. Dean picked Quinn up and laid her as gently as he could on her bed. He tapped her cheek a few times, attempting to wake her up. She was pale as hell. WIth a gentle shove, Sam moved Dean out of the way and got to work cleaning her leg and resuturing her ripped stitches. It took a tense half an hour, but when he finished, Dean was quick to grab a bag of the emergency blood they all had “donated” and kept in the fridge, an IV stand and a needle. He got the IV setup and then found a vein and stuck her with the needle. She was going to be okay. They had gotten there in time. But even still, he couldn’t help but speculate on what would have happened if they hadn't…

When she came to, Dean was sitting next to her on the bed, elbows propped up on his knees and his chin resting on his hands, staring at the wall.

“Dean… what are you doing?” her voice was still hoarse from sleep.

“Quinn! You’re up, good.”

“Uh, yeah, what happened?”

“I think you might be able to do a better job of that than me. Me n’ Sammy found you bleeding out on your floor.”

She didn’t respond for a while then with a soft “Oh shit,” she rubbed her face with her bloodstained hands.

“I was trying to get fresh gauze and wrap… I didn’t want to have wet bandages wrapped around my thigh for hours… I tripped over a damn towel and I guess they ripped when I tried to catch myself. I think I was trying to resuture them, but that’s where I blacked out…I could have done it if it weren’t for the blood…”

“Quinn, you’re lucky that we got home when we did…You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

“You should be more careful.”

“Wait, you think I did this on purpose or something? That this was my fault? I may be stubborn but I’m not stupid,” her voice rose.

“No, no. I don… I don’t think that… I just… I saw you there on the floor and I… I just had this image of trying to live here, do what we do, without you and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do any of this without you around. And Zeke… I can’t imagine what he would have done… This is my fault. I should have stayed behind to take care of you for as long as you needed.”

“Dean, no…”

“Just promise me if you need help with something you’ll let me know, okay?”

“I can do that,” she smiled at him gently and leaned back against the headboard, “Dean I need something.”

“Anything.”

“Do we have any dessert?” She smirked and he laughed at her. Of course she would want dessert at eleven in the damn morning, right after she nearly died. He’d expect nothing less.

“We do, as a matter of fact. Ice cream. You want some?”

“Oh yes. I definitely want some. But I want to eat it out there. I am sick of this room.”

“That can be arranged,” Dean first grabbed her a pair of shorts and helped her put them on and then he let her lean on him all the way to the kitchen where he set her in a chair and got her the desert. The smile she gave him was worth every second of work he did for her.

[jetfics]

Dean And The Case Of The Wasted Childhood

Characters: Dean Winchester, Original Female Character (Quinn), Original Male Character (Zeke) 

Warnings: Fluff (barely) 

Word Count: 1,388

Summary: Quinn remembers her childhood and Dean does the whole cute, loving guy thing. 

“Quinn! Wanna come to the store? I thought we could get some food and maybe a movie?” Dean called from the landing.

“Dean, I can’t. You know I have to pick up Zeke.” Quinn said to the man at the bottom of the stairs. He looked disappointed only for a moment before he perked up and said, “Okay, well, then I’ll come with you!” She didn’t have a chance to argue because he was already up the stairs and out the door, pulling her behind him by the wrist.

“Dean! Hey! Slow down! I have short legs!”

“Oh well,” he said as he swung her around, catching her by the waist and then opening her door, not breaking eye contact. She flushed and slid onto the leather of the Impala, hands in her lap. There was definitely something… special… between them, but she didn’t want to be the one to make the first move. Typical. 

“Okay, so… where exactly does Zeke go to school again?”

“Seriously?”

“I think it’s a fair question seeing as how you’ve never actually told me.”

“I really haven’t? He’s at Rock Hills middle school. It usually takes me thirty or so minutes to get there.”

“You drive that every day?”

“Yeah, so?”

Dean shook his head as he revved his Baby’s engine and peeled out of the dead end street, tires squealing.

“What?”

“Nothing, just… you. You kind of amaze me.”

“Ha! Me. Okay Mister-I-saved-the-world. Twice.”

“No, really. I’m serious.”

“Well that’s sweet of you, I guess.”

“Quinn…”

She suddenly didn’t feel like talking at all. So, she leaned forward and flicked on the radio, effectively cutting anything he was going to say off. They drove the rest of the short trip in relative silence, the music being the barrier between them instead of the connecting piece.

Once they pulled into the lot where parents were waiting, Dean turned off the radio that had been playing Freddie Mercury and killed the engine. They had a clear view of the playground from where they were parked and Quinn watched as kids played four square and basketball in the cool fall weather. She remembered being that age. And just for a moment, she wished with all of her soul that she could be back at that stage in life where the most complicated thing was who to eat with at lunch. The harder she tried, the less she could remember about her middle school years. She, much like Dean, hadn’t been in just one school through her childhood. But middle school was the year that started, so she knew a little of what staying in one place felt like. She’d gotten a glimpse of the normal life, and then been ripped away from it much too soon. Her family had started “traveling” when she was in seventh grade and so she remembered bits and pieces of her life before hunting. It wasn’t all bad. But it was so mundane. Her eyebrows pulled together a little bit as she thought about her childhood. She hadn’t really had the best youth, despite her early years being fairly normal and boring. Once her father and mother had gotten a taste of hunting, she was dragged around the country mercilessly. They hadn’t let her come ON any hunts, only to the towns, then they’d stick her in a motel, get her registered under a false name at the local school and start their work.

Eventually she was left with baby Zeke, too. It was Hunter Parents 101. Always leave your children behind. So, she never got trained with any weapons, they didn’t want her to accidentally hurt herself. They always told her that when she turned ten, she’d learn how to fight. But when a Shtriga came sniffing around for her, she was left defenseless and cornered. Her father had burst in the door like some kind of superhero, out to get the bad guy. He succeeded, but the Shtriga had also succeeded. Her father died slowly and painfully, right next to the monster he had killed to save his baby girl. Quinn watched the whole time, unable to help, crying for her daddy to be okay and wondering where her mom was. She had called 911 against his wishes but he was gone when they arrived. They declared him Dead On Arrival to the hospital. Her mother had shown up later, numb after getting the news, made her pack all of her things and drove her out to Sioux Falls, South Dakota where she promptly dumped her daughter in the care of an old drunk named Bobby Singer. Never even said goodbye.

Quinn knew her mother blamed her. But her mother was wrong. The woman had shown up in town once, two years after dumping her off. Quinn had made sure that she was seen and recognized, sixteen and somehow still unhardened by the world, unlike the older woman. Then, she’d left, gone back to Bobby’s and cried. And that was that. Seven years later, Zeke was about to be twelve and she was twenty three. They’d long since left Bobby’s house, though they did keep in frequent contact with the old man. He’d connected her with the Winchesters and a series of events that would better be left alone landed her and Zeke with rooms in the Bunker. It wasn’t the best life, but it beat doing to her little brother what her parents had done to her.

A gentle hand on her shoulder startled her, “Quinn?”

“What?” She replied dazed, to the question.

“You didn’t hear any of what I just said, did you?”

“No, sorry….”

“Where did you go there?”

“Nowhere… It’s nothing, Dean,” she said warily.

With a sigh, Dean faced the windshield and rubbed his face, “Q, I know you don’t like talking about before, but you gotta give it up sometime. I know I’m not the greatest example of that, by any means, but look where that has gotten me? You don’t wanna end up like this old man.”

“Dean you’re three years older than me. That doesn’t qualify you as an old man yet. When you can get insurance at somewhere like AARP then you get to call yourself an old man,” she was deflecting but he wasn’t having it.

“Old man or not, you know that I have good reason to say all of that. I don’t want to see you end up like me.”

“I’m already like you, stupid. But the only difference here is that I haven’t let it make me angry. Sad, yes. But I have done my honest to God best to make sure that I never get as cold as my mother. Ever. And I won’t. So, quit worrying about me, okay?” She immediately felt bad for snapping at the man, but she meant every word.

“I only do it because I care, Quinn,” he said quietly.

“I know… I’m sorry. I’m beyond grateful that you care, I don’t know where me or Zeke would be without you. It’s just… really touchy still…”

Without saying anything, Dean turned to face the woman once more with soft eyes. He leaned towards her and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, one which she returned gently, the butterflies in her stomach making her smile a little. 

“I’d like to be there when you work it out, Quinn. I want to see you be able to be happy. That’s all,” he said as he leaned back, eyes searching her face. 

She put her head on his shoulder and said, “I do too,” barely whispering.

And then they saw Zeke running out of the building, backpack flopping behind him and a grin on his face. Their moment was gone, but she kept it in her mind  for later.

“Hey Zeke!” she called as he slid into the backseat.

“My man!” chimed in Dean.

“Hey, Quinn! Hi Dean!”

“How was your day?” his sister asked.

“It was good. Avery likes me!”

“Does she? I need to meet her, then, before things get to serious, Z!” Quinn laughed.

“Yeah right,” Zeke scoffed, then asked, “So, have you guys kissed yet?”

Dean and Quinn looked at each other as the car sped down the road, unsure of what to say.

“Sam and I made a bet.”

“I’ll kill that overgrown moose!” Dean said playfully and Quinn laughed, Zeke joining in immediately.

There were still dark things, waiting to keep them all up at night, but that didn’t quite matter, just then.

Yeah. They’d be alright.