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morganwrites12672 · 21 days

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Abandon

Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: After the worst fight he's ever had with his father, Sam goes to the only person he can for comfort.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: ANGST. John is a piece of shit. Arguing. Crying. Daddy issues.

A/N: Have fun crying!

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Whenever Sam had finally gotten back from visiting her, he hadn't expected Dean and John to be waiting up for him in the small living room of the motel. He awkwardly shrugged off his jacket before tossing it over the back of the couch.

He could feel his father's eyes burning into his skin. John must be pissed off about something. It seemed like Sam couldn't do anything without upsetting the older man. His good mood vanished.

"You have something you want to tell me?" John asked, and Sam just knew. He knew exactly what John meant. There was nothing else that would have his father looking this pissed.

Sam swallowed thickly, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He looked between Dean and John. John looked pissed, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. Dean looked different. He looked almost happy, he looked satisfied. A smug smirk tugged at Dean's lips.

Dean was convinced that John was going to fix everything. He thought that his father would be able to fix this. Once all of this was over, Sam would stay. Everything would work out. If only Dean didn't put so much blind trust into his father. Maybe then he would have realized what would actually happen.

"No sir."

Sam knew that his father wouldn't be satisfied with this response. No, the older man would be pissed off. Nothing Sam said would make it right. No matter what he did his father would still probably lose his shit. This was going to be an argument from Hell.

"Don't you fucking lie to me!" John growled. He pulled something out of his pocket, a letter. Not just any letter though. The letter. Sam's acceptance letter for Stanford.

"How-" Sam didn't get to finish his sentence.

"You applied for Stanford," John said. It was a statement, not a question. The evidence was quite literally being gripped in John's hand.

Sam's nerves coiled in his gut, ready to explode. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. This argument was the very thing that Sam had wanted to avoid at all costs. He wasn't quite sure how he had planned to avoid it though. Telling John might have made it better rather than the older man figuring it out, or being told by someone else.

"I'm going," Sam blurted, standing up a little straighter. He wouldn't keep letting his father walk all over him. He would go to Stanford. After everything he had sacrificed for other people, he would do this for himself. Hunting could wait a few years.

"I just want to-" For the second time that night, John cut Sam off.

"Like hell you are! I won't let you abandon this family," John snapped as he stood. He slammed the letter down onto the table. He couldn't believe the way Sam was speaking. "Would you really do that? Would you really abandon your brother and I?"

"No. Dad listen, I am going to Stanford!" Sam shouted back at John. He wasn't abandoning Dean or his father. No, he was just trying to go to college.

"It's that damn whore," John sneered. It didn't matter that he was talking about his friends daughter, he was also talking about the girl who he thought had been a bad influence on Sam. "She's been putting all of these ideas into your head. She-"

It was Sam's turn to cut John off. Hearing his father talk about her that way made Sam's blood boil. He took a steadying breath. Just yelling at his father wouldn't do any good. He needed to be somewhat logical. Though, he struggled to think of anything decent to say after what he had heard his father call her.

Dean was watching everything go down. Now that he'd seen how this argument was going he might have a few regrets. He'd seen Sam and his father argue, a lot. It had never been this bad though. Hearing what his father had to say about her though, that made Dean regret everything. Being around her was the happiest Dean had ever seen his brother. He couldn't believe that his father would insult her like that. She wasn't a bad influence on Sam, not in the slightest.

"Don't call her that," Sam said through a clenched jaw. "She has done nothing wrong! It was my idea to apply for Stanford. I am not abandoning this family! I'm going to college!"

"Don't you fucking come back! If you aren't going to do the job, and be apart of this family, don't you ever come back," John snarled.

Sam's expression changed in an instant. He felt his chest tighten, panic spreading throughout his body. He knew by looking at johns face that his father wasn't kidding.

Sam grabbed his jacket, the letter from Stanford, and his laptop case before walking out the door. He had a lump in his throat as he walked down the row of motel room doors. Looking around the parking lot, he was thankful that it was empty.

"Sammy! Wait!" Dean yelled, running out of the motel room door after his younger brother. He was panicking at this point. Things weren't supposed to end like this. He couldn't believe that Sam would leave like this.

"Don't call me that," Sam snapped at his brother, not bothering to turn around. "Leave me the hell alone Dean."

The older Winchester brother stopped in his tracks. He had fucked up, everything had went wrong. It was too late now. Sam had clearly made up his mind. There was nothing Dean would be able to do to stop his brother.

Sam walked. And he just kept walking. His jacket protected him from the ice cold gushes of wind blowing. He walked towards the only place he had left to go; her house. She was his escape. He needed her, right now especially.

The disgusting words that John had spoke of her made Sam's blood boil. He walked faster. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, hiding them away from the brisk cold.

She was the best part of his day. Hearing his father call her that, and the way the older man talked about her made him sick. She deserved so much better. She didn't do anything wrong. No, the opposite. She made everything better.

The thought of her smile was only able to hinder the tears building up for so long. Sam only walked faster. His long, gangly legs could only carry him so fast though.

The walk to her house didn't take long. Sam practically ran. His eyes had long ago welled up with tears, he sniffled as he finally spotted her house. He walked up to the front porch and hesitated. It was late. What if her parents answered instead of her?

He didn't knock on the door. Instead, he sent her a quick text asking if she could open the front door for him. He prayed to anything out there that might listen to him that she was still awake. He wouldn't risk her parents coming to the door, even if he knew that they wouldn't be upset.

His tear stained cheeks glimmered in the moonlight. He wiped at his cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket, trying to hide some of the tears from view. However, he knew that the second she opened the door that she would know. It would be impossible for her not too.

She could take one look at Sam and read him like a god-damn book. It was nice to be understood like that. Dean and his father had never actually listened to him about anything. He felt like an outsider. He don't feel anywhere near like that around her.

His train of thought was interrupted as he heard the click of a deadbolt sliding open. The front door creaked open. Standing in the doorway, there she was. Her pajama pants hung low on her hips, exposing a small section of her waist before her tank top covered the rest of her skin up. She looked tired as hell, yet she still gave Sam a gentle smile.

She stepped aside wordlessly, letting Sam into the house. Her eye brows drew together in concern as she noticed his tear stained cheeks. As Sam stepped inside, she quickly (and quietly) shut the door. The dead bolt snapped into place.

As she turned around she noticed that Sam had already began walking to her bedroom. Her house was more like a home to Sam than any other place. He did spend a lot of time here. Not that her parents minded.

Her parents loved Sam. They had always welcomed him in with open arms. And, they ignored all of the times they caught Sam sleeping over. They just appreciated that their daughter was spending time with someone her age. Having such a an odd lifestyle made it difficult to maintain friendships.

Whenever she walked into her bedroom, Sam was already sitting on her bed. His head was titled downwards, his eyes seemed to be locked on her rug. She noticed that he had discarded his shoes and jacket already. His jacket hung on the back of her desk chair, and his shoes sat in the corner of her room.

She sat next to Sam and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He shuddered beneath her touch. More tears burned at his eyes and he fought to keep the emotion out of his voice as he spoke

"H-he found out," Sam whispered in a fragile voice. With anyone else he would have cringed at how vulnerable he sounded. He sniffled again, trying to prevent the tears from pouring down his cheeks again.

Her heart dropped. She was suddenly wide awake. That was the worst possible thing that could happen. She still remembered how excited Sam had been to show her his acceptance letter. All of that excitement had been ruined by John.

"Oh my God. . . Sam-"

"I'm still going to S-Stanford," He looked up at her as a few tears finally escaped down his cheeks. "My dad. . . my dad told me not to come back."

She didn't hesitate before pulling him into a tight hug. It was awkward since they were both sitting down but she didn't care in the slightest. Sam broke down in her arms. Hot tears poured down his cheeks.

"It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay." Her voice was gentle, the polar opposite to how his father had spoken to him earlier.

It was moments like this that made Sam realize how lucky he was to have her. He wouldn't know what to do without her. Especially tonight. His heart has been brutally ripped apart by his father, now she would work on helping him pick up the pieces.

They were always there for each other. It was something that could be so very simple that most people didn't notice it. The way that Sam would subconsciously reach for her anytime things went South, the way she always seemed to find her way into Sam's arm after a case or fight with her parents, the way she always made sure Sam had somewhere to go.

And yet, the two had stuck with the title of best friends. Neither one of them wanted to change it much, not yet anyway. There might have been occasional thoughts that definitely weren't the kind you thought about friends though.

Her warm touch brought Sam back to the present moment. It reminded him that things didn't have to be so bad. He might have lost his father, and maybe even Dean too, but he still had her.

"You can stay here until you leave for Stanford."

Sam' head jerked up. That was months away. He had planned to- he actually didn't know what he had planned to do. He would have figured something out though. No matter how hard it was.

Sam cleared his throat, "No, I can't ask your parents to do that."

"Too bad," She retorted. "You live with us until you leave for Stanford." Her voice was firm and left no room for argument.

Her parents would understand. They always did. Even if her father and John were friends, she knew that her mother would be able to persuade her father into letting Sam stay with them. Her mother was good at doing that. Nobody could say no to that woman.

"Thank you," Sam whispered. He then rubbed his eyes, wiping away the tear streaks. It would never make sense to Sam. He couldn't believe that she cared about him this much. He was a black sheep with his family. He was the one who caused problems and didn't belong. He didn't feel that way here. He felt just as much apart of the family as she actually was.

The two fell into a comfortable silence. She kept her arms wrapped around Sam. He felt like her arms were the only thing holding him together. His own father had just kicked him out! Sam couldn't believe that Dean had shown the letter. It hurt.

None of that mattered right now. He couldn't go back in time to fix things. He had to live with everything that had just happened. He had to figure it out.

Maybe things wouldn't be so bad. He could get through anything with her by his side.

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A/N: The biggest thanks to @tranquilitybasegrunge and @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles for beta reading parts of this for me!

Tag List: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @aidansloth @jaredpadonlyyyy @zeppette @moonl1ghtsworld @tranquilitybasegrunge

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#sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x you #supernatural x you #supernatural drabble #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #spn x y/n #spn x reader #spn fanfic

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fandomtherapy44 · 2 months

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Behind the roadhouse Dean x reader

Summary: Y/n has a bit of a crush on Dean but there's kind of a problem. He's a Winchester

paring: Dean x reader

WC:3,081

Warnings: Language, SMUT

Monsters- Vampires, werewolves,ghouls and those aren't even the scary parts of my life. Try to deal with creepy men while working at a bar. Not just any bar, a hunter's bar, my family's bar. My mom Ellen Harville is one of the most badass women you'll ever meet and one of the toughest people but a loving mom. My little half-sister Jo is the other most important person in my life. Well, she’s twenty four so not so little but she will always be to me. My Mom had me with a random hookup she had when she was younger, told him and he took off so when I met Bill I was hesitant but then he became the best father that I ever got and I got a little sister out of the deal too. But then he died in a hunter accident so my mom forbade Jo and I not to hunt but then two sons walked into the bar and a particular Winchester got me not just enthralled with helping people from monsters but in him.

I was wiping down the bar when two tall handsome strangers walked in. “Hey there, welcome to the roadhouse. What can I do for you to get information, a drink, or both?” I finished with a smile mainly focusing on the blonde one. What can I say? I'm a sucker for green eyes. He gives me a flashing smile. “Hey there…” “Y/n” “Y/n, we’re looking for Ellen Harville do you know her?” “I better she’s my mom I’ll be right back.” They both look at each other in confusion. I walk back to the little kitchen. “Hey Mom, two guys are here looking for you.” She gets up and follows me back to them. “Hey there fellows I heard you're looking for me.”

“Uh yeah we’re John Winchester's sons and we got your call.” And the rest flew by so quickly. Ash helped Sam to look up information on the case and while that happened Dean and I had a talk. I poured him a drink and slid it to him. “What’s this for?” I shrugged while sipping a coke. “For your Dad, I'm sorry for your loss.” He took it and shot it back like it was water. “Thanks, you sound like you know the pain.” “My dad passed when I was thirteen so I know how it feels.” My heart panged with pain a little like it did every time I thought of my Dad. “Oh well, I'm sorry for you too, cheers to our dad’s.” We raise our glasses and I'm left with a thought that Dean Winchester doesn't seem like a bad guy.

After that, Sam and Dean would visit us whenever they could and when they needed info. Dean’s and I’s relationship just grew and grew with every late-night talk, pool game, and drink. And it was scaring the shit out of me. I was closing up the bar and Dean and I were having another one of our talks. “Burger or hotdog?” he asks me. “Uh hotdog, is there any other choice.” I playfully responded. “What do you mean hotdog crazy lady?” “So I'm assuming your burger.” I leaned down to his level and he gave me his signature smirk. “Of course.”

With that, he swiped his tongue over his lips while he was staring at me. We both had the same idea we leaned in and to be this close was intoxicating, his breath hot and our noses were touching but my mom did not like our idea. “Dean we are closing for the day.” my mom said from the doorway and we quickly pulled away. “Uh right sorry I'll see you guys later.” He grabbed his jacket and gave me one more look before he walked out. “Mom! What the hell!” “You can not be with that Man!” “Why?” She looked down thinking about something but decided against it. “Just please be careful with those boys.” She turned away before I could ask any more questions.

Dean and Sam had not been back since night. I mean they're busy but it felt personal to me. I tried to forget those butterflies that I got every time I got around Dean but for some reason I couldn't. Every guy that I had been with wasn’t really serious and I was fine with that but then I met Dean and in my locked trunk of hopes in my heart that maybe he was different. And he was.

It was early in the morning and I was waiting at the table for Jo. She sneakily walks in going to the fridge. I flip on the light. “Late-night snacks sis?” She jumped at me. “Jezze Y/n I thought you were Mom.” I get up and go to the fridge to get a beer. Yes, I did need it to deal with my little sister’s attitude. “No, I'm worse. Mom would go easy on you compared to me.” “Y/n please let me go, I can do this!” I sign and sit down. “Sit down Jo.” she does. “Jo look, the reason I'm like this is because I couldn't bear if anything happened to you like… Dad and mom would agree.”

She looks down at her fiddling hands. “N/n I'm doing this because of Dad you got more time with him all I remember are the short times he came back from hunting. If I can do this I won't feel like I barely know him.” She was right. I couldn't take that away from her if this was her way of feeling closer to our Father then I would have to let her, even if that meant hunting. I sigh deeply, standing up and taking out my knife and handed it to her. “What is this?” “It was Dad’s” She looked up at me like I had given her gold.

“But he gave this to you.” “He did but it was his hunting knife and it's just been sitting in my pocket not doing much hunting so it seems right that you take it.” She jumps up and hugs me tight. “Thank you, thank you.” I pull back to look at her. “You can thank me by sending me the case and the location and call me everyday to make sure you're safe.” She nods her head. “Okay, that’s fair.” We let go. “Okay get out of here before Mom gets up.” She smiles excitedly grabs her bag and practically skips out the door.

She had Ash set up a paper trail of casinos down the state line so Mom wouldn't really know where she was. Mom did not like it but had accepted it. It was about two days in and she finally called me. “Hey, I thought we said every day.” “Sorry, I got distracted.” “By what?” I asked a little confused. “Sam and Dean.” “They're there!” “Yeah I guess we picked up on the same story.” “So you have help good good.” All that was running through my head was Dean. “N/n you okay?” She asked, hearing my pause. “Yes, I am, well call to update me. Love you.” “Love you too sis.” She hung up and I just sat there for a second and the next one I decided what I was going to do.

I walk to the apartment door and knock on it. The door opened and there was Dean. My heart quickens but I play it off cool. “Hey, Dean.” “Hey, Y/n.” He steps aside and I come in. “Y/n what are you doing here?” Jo questioned. “Uh, I wanted to get in and gank this ghost.” “Why didn’t you just come with me in the first place.” That’s a good question and now for a good lie. “I was scared but I fought off the nerves.” That was a shit lie. “Okay well I'll catch you up.” I walk over to the map but not before looking at Dean and he looked back.

We had determined that the ghost was H.H Holmes I know it does sound insane and it is. I was mostly worried about Jo seeing she was exactly Holmes type. We were going to split off in pairs to search but not before I talked to Dean. “Hey” I stepped up to him.”Hey, you ready.” “as I'll ever be.” “Good well I'll be one phone call away.” “I know and if anything happens to Jo-” He put his arm on my shoulder. “It won't.” His eyes are so trusting. “And Dean.” “Mhh.” “You be careful too.” “I will.”

Sam and I were checking upstairs while Jo and Dean went downstairs. “So… did you really want to come.” He asked casually looking around. “Of course, I did for my sister.” He stopped to look at me. “Really that’s what you're going with I mean why not go in the first place and you're scared Y/n I've seen you punch a man square in the face for trying to take your tip.” To be honest I didn't even know myself. “I-” We were rounding the corner and straight into Dean. “Dean Dean!” He kept on walking. “Where’s Jo!” He stopped dead in his tracks and spun to face me. “She was taken.” He keeps on going and I'm frozen.

We were back in the apartment and I kept walking back and forth. We are looking in the blueprints to see where she could be hidden while Dean’s phone rings. It was my Mom. Fear got stricken through my body how would my Mom even look at me? How would I?” “She's gonna have to call you back, she's taking care of, uh, feminine business.” Dean responded back and I thought my lie from before was shit. “Look, we'll get her back.” My heart was thumping.

“The spirit we're hunting, it took her.” I could hear from where I was how worried she was. “She'll be okay, I promise.” “You promise. That is not the first time I've heard that from a Winchester.” What the fuck does that mean. Dean had the same response. he lowers the phone and hands it to me. “She wants to talk to you.” I shakily take it. “Mom I-” “Dont even how could you let her!” The tears started to fall from my eyes and my face turned red from burning anxiety. “I'm sorry I just wanted her to feel closer to Dad.” “Well, she may be closer than you wanted now!” “You're her big sister!... Im so disapiontted in you.” She hangs up the phone with nothing else. I drop the phone on the bed. “I'll be right back.” I sobily say and run out.

I go out to the alleyway and kick the trashcan out of anger. “AHHH! Fuck!” I punched the wall and in my anger, and I had forgotten it was made out of brick. My knuckles started trickling blood and I slumped down the wall just feeling defeated. A pair of boots showed up in front of me. “Hey” I looked up and it was Dean. “Hey,” I respond softly my voice feeling raw. He sat down next to me. “We're going to find her N/n” I wipe my eyes.

“I shouldn't have let her go she was so desperate to feel something to our dad that I let her go… I'm so stupid.” I put my head in my crossed arms against my knees. “You are not stupid, you're a good sister.” I dryly chuckle at myself. “I'm a sister who let her only sibling go hunting when I knew the danger.” He sighs. “When I was sixteen and Sam was twelve we were hunting and I let him go look on by himself a ghost almost killed him.” I turn my head at him.

“Uh, no offense Dean but pep talk sucked.” “I not done the reason he didn't die is because he remembered what I had taught him and he had his tools not just weapons but knowledge and he was ready so is Jo she fine she has an amazing sister looking for her.” I wipe my tears and throw myself in his arms and he catches me. He pets my head in comfort I whisper. “Thank you.” We split apart really close. He leans forward pur noses touching. Then Sam comes running towards. “UH guys I think I know where she is.”

She and the other missing girl had been in a storm drain. When had trapped H.H. ghost and Jo and I got topside. She threw her arms around me. “Are you ok!?” I put my hands on her face. “No no I'm fine just some scratches.” She took out Dad's pocketknife. “This protected me. So thank you.” “Anytime sis.” The boys get out of the drain. Sam and Jo go off to talk and that leaves Dean and I alone. “So….” He starts. I Bear hug him. “Thank you for helping save my sister.” “Of course.” This time I'm going do it. I grab his face and he accepts it, “Ah am.” I look behind him and it's my mom I'm so tried of people fucking cock blocking me.

The ride home let's just say that Christmas with a stepmom twenty years old is more comfortable. We get to the roadhouse and Mom practically drags us in. “Ellen? This is my fault. Okay? I lied to you and I'm sorry. But Jo and Y/n did good out there, I think their dad would be proud.” Dean tried to reason. “Don't you dare say that. Not you. I need a moment with my daughters. Alone.” The boys leave. “You're angry. I understand.” Jo started.

“Angry? Angry doesn't begin to touch it.” I mean I know why she’s angry with me but Sam and Dean? “Is this about me hunting, or something else?” I tried “Mom they were right there, backing us up the whole time.” “Like father, like sons.” “Mom what the fuck is that suppose to mean.” “I’m sorry I shouldn't have said anything.” Both Jo and I look at each other. “Mom what are you not telling us.”

I went on a little walk after I learned what happened I guess Jo talked to them about it but my emotions were all over the place. Jo and I had a talk which ended in crying and a hug. I didn't know how to feel especially now with Dean.

I was taking the trash out behind the roadhouse when I turned it was Dean. “Ahh Fuck! Dean, I almost threw this trash bag full of dirty napkins at you.” “Yeah shaking in my boots.” We just had a silent silence. “Look I just wanted to say sorry.” I was puzzled. “Why are you sorry?” “Because of my dad.” “Dean that wasn't your… fault.” He steps closer. “I know, but my dad's not here and I am so I'm sorry that Will is not here because of him.” I drop the trash and I kiss him. I didn't care at that moment that my clothes were covered in grease stains and a mix between blood and beer I had to. His lips were a little chapped but still were soft as a cloud. Our lips separated slowly. “I'm sorry I just..” His hands were on my hips now. “Had to.” He finished.

18+ SMUT……

“I have about thirty minutes before my mom comes looking for me so do you wanna do this ?” He grabbed me and backed me to the wall. “Oh, I wanna do this I've been wanting to do this since I first saw you.” “Dean you-” I didn't get to finish my sentence before he kissed me again. And yes it was heaven. His tongue starts to prod my lips and I let him in. “Mhh Dean.” “You like that.” “Yes,” I said practically moaning. “How about this.” he goes down my neck slowly sucking on my sweet spots. “You are too good at that Dean.”

“Yeah, hopefully I'm good at this too.” He unbuttons my shirt slowly and kisses down my stomach. To my pants. “This okay.” He was on his knees his hands on my pants band. “Yes.” He pulled down my pants. Grabbed my panties with my teeth to easily pull down. He starts to kiss my inside thigh. “Oh my gosh.” I throw my hand to the wall to steady myself. He kitten licks my slit. “Ahh” He then puts his tongue in me. “Ohh Fuck Dean!” He goes fully in and eats me out like a madman. I am so close. I grab onto his shoulder and grip it tightly. “Just let go honey.” I did and he lapped it up.

“Oh my gosh did you go to school for that.” I breathily let out. “Yeah, I majored in it.” I chuckle and my hand goes to his pants. “Do you want me to return the favor?” He takes my hand. “I would love that but we have about ten minutes left and I want to show you why I graduated at the top of my class.” I nod and he unbuckles his pants and drops them. I look down and his shaft is standing proud. He pulled down his underwear and it was bigger than I expected. “You ready sweetness.”

“Always.” He gently grabs my head kisses me again and starts grinding against me. He then slips in. “Ahh Dean!” “Tell me when I can move,” It feels a little burning but then it turns into pleasure. “Dean you can move.” He goes in and out moving slowly. “Y/n you feel so good.” He grabs onto my hips to pull me up onto around his hips. He thrusts in and out faster and faster. He breaths into my neck and I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I'm almost there are you Y/n” “Yes!” “Let's do it together!” He moves down to rub my clit. “Ahh fuck!” “Ok, one two three!” And we did. He pulled out his cock dripping with our fluids together. I then realized the time. “Dean I loved that but you have to go.” he grabs me one more time to leave a sweet kiss. “I'll call you.” “You better Dean Winchester.” He gathers himself and leaves. I didn't know where that left us but at least we would always have behind the roadhouse.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester supernatural #dean x reader #smut #dean winchester smut #jo harvelle #ellen harvelle #sam winchester

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lotanxiety · 11 months

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You’re not alone

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean and Sam notice you aren’t taking good care of yourself and they are worried about you. Dean talks you through it and offers support.

Warnings: mentions of ED, SH, and depression, this has some seriously heavy shit so if this triggers you PLS don’t read, fluff with dean

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You have lived in the bunker with the boys for 3 years. Lately, your mental health has been really bad, but you were trying to hide it from Sam and Dean. With everything they dealt with on a daily basis, the last thing you wanted them to worry about was you.

It all started 4 months ago when you started having nightmares and flashbacks of the times you almost died. You were pretty sure you had PTSD, but with your lifestyle, therapy wasn’t really an option. You grew up with abusive parents which didn’t help with the accumulating trauma. The body keeps score and it seemed to all be catching up with you now. First, it was the nightmares, then the dissociating. The only times you felt alive were when you would fight monsters which led to your newest bad habit.

Whenever you didn’t feel real or got angry with yourself for whatever reason, you would take it out on your hips. It was something you could control. It reminded you that you’re real and it’s served as a punishment when you felt you deserved it. Seeing the red lines across your hips made you happy when everything else seemed grey.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, it was increasingly more difficult to get out of bed each morning. You would forget basic human necessities like eating, drinking, or bathing. You were able to hide your struggles before, but now it’s becoming noticeable. On the days the boys were home, you would fake it the best you could so they wouldn’t pick up on anything wrong, but not anymore. Maybe you want someone to notice. Maybe you finally want to be saved and cared for the way you save others.

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*around noon*

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” Dean asked Sam walking into the kitchen.

“No, I haven’t seen her all day.” Sam said. “Have you noticed.. she seems a little quiet lately. I also noticed she’s been having more nightmares lately.”

“I noticed that too, I can hear her scream out sometimes. I mean we all get nightmares, but these seem bad. Have you not talked to her about it at all?” Dean questioned.

“No, I thought you would’ve mentioned it.” Sam said.

“Dude, she’s obviously going through something and neither of us have checked up on her? Way to go.” Dean scoffed as he headed in the direction of your room.

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You were laying on your bed, staring at the wall thinking of all the ways you have messed up lately. The last hunt you were out on, you made a mistake that almost got Sammy killed. Now, you opt to stay back and reference the lore. You replayed every mistake over and over in your head. Suddenly a knock interrupts your ‘greatest hits’.

You clear your throat, “um, who is it?” you ask.

“It’s Dean, can i come in.”

You look around to the mess of your room, random items taking up space on your bed with you. Suddenly, you become embarrassed and ashamed. “I- uh, do you need something?” You shout to the man on the other side of the door.

“I haven’t seen you all day, I just wanted to check up on you. Are you feeling okay?” Dean asks with concern.

*coughing loudly* “No I think I’ve come down with something, you should stay away.” You say, trying to sound sickly.

“Oh, ok. I can bring you some soup if you like” Dean asks, knowing you’re lying but trying to get through to you.

“I’m not hungry, thanks though” You say, pushing any kind of help away. You didn’t understand why you do this. You want help but then it comes and you resist at all costs. Maybe because this mess you’re feeling is comfortable, familiar. You’ve always been messed up, but now it’s just manifesting on the outside. When it was bottled up, it was easy to hide from everyone, but this is much harder and every lie you tell drains you more and more.

“You need to eat” Dean contested.

“I said no, now can you please go” The words felt like knives being thrown at the closed door. You didn’t mean to be so aggressive, but Deans pushing set off a nerve. Immediately you felt bad, but knew you couldn’t look at his face so you sat still in your bed as you heard hushed footsteps fade away. Feeling hot tears burn in your eyes, you walked over to your bathroom, and grabbed your razor. Anger towards yourself coursed through your veins, into your hands, as you unleashed hell onto your body. Saying to yourself, “You deserve this for being mean to Dean, he was just trying to be nice. He doesn’t deserve that. What’s wrong with you, etc.”

When you’re satisfied, your hips are stained red. You clean up and go back to laying in your bed, as you cry yourself to sleep.

——————-

That evening

“I don’t know Sammy, I think there’s something really wrong. Earlier- the way she spoke to me. It wasn’t her. I need to talk to her, to see her face, but she keeps pushing me away. I don’t know what to do. I’m worried… I’m worried it’s worse than just nightmares.” Dean confides to his brother.

“Yeah, I’m worried too. Maybe we can set up a movie night in the Dean cave and coax her out of her room. I think having some quality time, not worried about monsters could help.” Sam suggested.

“Okay, yeah. You run to the store and get some supplies and I’ll break out blankets and pillows. Meet back here in 30.” Dean says hopeful. He hated knowing that you were upset, but he wanted this to help so badly. He worked hard at getting his Dean cave set up perfectly. He even made a blanket fort. Once Sam and Dean finished setting everything up, the came to knock on your door.

You had just woken up from your restless nap. Unfortunately, the day wasn’t even over so you were back to laying in misery. You heard another knock on your door.

“Hey uh, we need your help in the Dean cave” Dean said from behind the door, you could almost hear the smile in his voice even though you couldn’t see him. While most other times you would decline, your curiosity got the best of you.

“Uhh okay, let me use the bathroom and I’ll be right there.” You said, getting up from your bed, ignoring the terrible headache. It stemmed from a combination of lack of food, water, good sleep, and crying so much. You looked in the mirror, repulsed by the face staring back at you, so you got to work making yourself as presentable as possible. After a much need brush through your hair (and teeth), a change of clothes, and some light makeup, you felt okay enough to make your public appearance. You left your bedroom, quickly shutting the door behind you to hide the mess, and headed towards the Dean cave.

When Dean and Sam laid their eyes on you for the first time in days, their mouths dropped. You looked awful. Bags under your eyes and barely skin and bone. You were always skinny, but this- this was bad. Both of the brothers concern immediately sky rocketed, but being as smart as they are, they knew to play it off. They knew if they outright said anything, you’d get defensive and shut down. So they quickly glanced at each other and greeted you like any other day. You were too busy looking at the scene in front of you to notice the boys faces.

“What- what is all this” you say surveying the room in awe.

“We thought you could use a little pick me up movie night.” Sam said with a soft smile on his face. Dean turned away from you to face the tv. It was too hard to look at you. He blamed himself for not checking on you sooner. For not immediately knowing there was something deeper going on. The cases had distracted him from the problem right under his nose and he was so angry at himself. You instantly noticed the change in his demeanor, making you uneasy. You thought he was still mad at you for the way you spoke to him earlier in the day. You made a mental note to apologize later. Sam opened up the blanket to let you sit beside him and so you did. In front of you, there was a whole display of food. Burgers, fries, popcorn, candy, you name it. The sight instantly made you nauseous.

You thought that you didn’t deserve food. Your mind = your greatest enemy. You pretended not to notice the food and encouraged them to start the movie. It was Alice In Wonderland- your favorite childhood movie you let slip one night with Dean after a beer too many. You glance across Sam to Dean who is staring at the TV but not actually watching. Sam nudges some fries in your direction, to which you shake your head.

“No thanks” you whisper over the beginning scene of the movie.

“Cmon Y/N, you haven’t eaten all day.” Sam said.

“Oh no, I had some granola bars in my room. I’ve been snacking on those-“ You lied.

“No you haven’t” Dean said finally speaking to you.

“What-“ you say looking at him confused, trying to play this off quickly.

“I’m not sure you’ve eaten anything in days” Dean starts.

“Dean-“ Sam interjects, trying to keep his brother from pushing you away.

“No, Sammy. She’s sick. Look at her.” Dean states.

Immediately, tears well up in your eyes. You knew you didn’t look your best but hearing Dean say that. It was too much. You wanted to head straight to your room to cut again, but Dean wasn’t finished talking.

“Y/N, I can’t walk on eggshells about this- you look terrible. What is going on?” Dean says in a much softer tone than before, his anger fading into worry.

“Nothings… going on.” you say.

“That’s not true and we all know it, can you just talk to us?” Sam asks.

Suddenly, that defense mechanism hits you strong and you attack the boys you love more than anything. You can’t help it. “I SAID I’M FINE. WOULD YOU BOTH JUST LEAVE ME ALONE AND GO BACK TO WORRYING ABOUT MONSTERS OR WHATEVER” you shout, exiting the room and heading straight for your bedroom.

You close the door behind you, still crying. The scene that just played out was one of your worst nightmares and partially why you have started staying locked in your room. You beeline for the bathroom to pick up the razor for a second time that day. You roll down your pants to the hidden canvas. Right before you can move, Dean bursts through your door.

You both freeze. Time stops for a couple seconds. Every mirage and illusion you’ve built over the past few months is shattered. The ugly, dirty truth is exposed. Your walls crumble to the ground. You refuse to lift your eyes from the ground as he approaches you. He takes the razor from your hands without saying a word and throws it to the other side of the bathroom and grabs you into his arms. You both crash to the floor, as you sob into chest. Dean hold you patiently while you let it all out. Everything you’ve been holding inside. There are a million thoughts going through Dean’s head, questions he has, but his main objective is just to be there for you. You needed him, and he wasn’t there. All the warning signs, ignored. He secretly blamed himself for letting it get this bad.

You both sit in the floor of your bathroom for a while. Your sobs slowly turned into quiet hiccups for air. You nervously lifted off of his chest, anxiously awaiting the conversation to follow the events that have just transpired. You finally make eye contact with Dean, his eyes are glassy and red.

“I’m sorry Y/N” Dean said barely above a whisper dragging his hand over your hair to brush it out of your tear soaked face.

You open and close your mouth, not expecting his response. “What are you sorry for?” you ask confused.

“I- I wasn’t there for you. I mean I knew something was off, but- but this. This is all my fault.” Dean says moving his hand to hold your cheek, a singular tear falling down his right cheek.

“No, no this isn’t your fault at all. I- I don’t know what to say.” You say, feeling the weight of the situation.

“You don’t have to say anything. We are going to get you some help. You’re not alone in this. You have Sam. You have me. This- this work is hard and I know you’ve had it rough, but you can and will get through this.” Dean says, as more tears begin to fall from your eyes, though you thought you couldn’t cry anymore.

“I need you to get better. I need my Y/N. Can you do that for me?” Dean asks, gently stroking your cheek and wiping the tears as they fall. You nod.

That night, the three of you work on tidying up your room. Dean filled Sam in privately and he wanted to help you in anyway he could. You guys went back to the Dean cave after your room was clean, and ate dinner. Dean even drank water with you instead of his normal beer so you would be more inclined to drink it.

Finally, it was time for bed. Dean walked to your room with you. “I wish you would’ve told me what has been going on with you, but I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t” Dean said.

“You didn’t- I just didn’t want you to worry about me when you’ve got a whole world and billions of people to worry about.” You say in response.

“I will always worry about you first. I care about you Y/N. I am here for you no matter what.” Dean says firmly, pulling you in for a hug. His chin rests on your head as you two stand in an embrace mid hallway.

“Dean, could you maybe- um stay with me tonight?” You ask.

“Of course”

Dean grabs your hand and pulls you towards your bed. He strips down to his boxers and climbs in, holding a spot next to him for you. You curl up next to him, feeling the heat radiate off his body, comforting you. “Thank you” you whisper as you quickly drift off into a much needed, nightmare free, deep sleep. Dean leans over to kiss your head as he whispers, “I love you Y/N”.

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #fanfic #sam winchester #supernatural

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waynes-multiverse · 2 years

Text

Labyrinth

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: A dangerous Wendigo hunt takes the Winchesters and their companion to an abandoned mine shaft and a maze of tunnels. Dean, on the other hand, not only has to find an exit in an underground cave system but also fights against his feelings for a young huntress as he battles through a labyrinth of thoughts and fears.

Warnings: a bit of language, angst, a trifecta of monsters, caves & earthquakes, canon-level violence, injuries & rebars, protective!Dean, idiots in love, silly jealousy, fluff

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Written as a request for @tieddown-withbattleshipchains. Hope this scratches the itch! It turned out a little angstier because Wendigos scare the shit outta me, but there’s tons of fluff in between and certainly at the end! 🥰 Inspired by Labyrinth by Taylor Swift (Duh. What else? 😂) and my favorite horror flick The Descent. Enjoy!

Feedback is highly appreciated! Get me drunk on it and fill my writer’s juice 🤓🥃

Main Masterlist | Dean Winchster Masterlist

Have you ever loved someone so much that just being in their distanced proximity hurts your heart? Loved someone so much that every time they pass you by, their scent drives you mad, their voice gives you shivers, and your own words fail to come clean? So much that lunacy seems like sanity?

Well, Dean pretty much feels precisely like this, feels like he’s going slowly but surely insane as he trails behind Y/N through the woods of Montana. Every wind, even the tiniest breeze, wafts microscopic particles of her perfume into his nostrils, causing him to bite the insides of his cheeks harder, hoping the metallic taste will erase everything that is her. So far, not even the intense smell of pine helps, though. For the last half an hour, all he keeps thinking about is the huntress he’s known for years, wondering if he were able to taste the M&Ms she ate earlier in the car on her tongue once he would finally gather enough courage to kiss her – not that this fantasy would ever be maintainable in the first place.

It’s like a kid’s dream. Dean’s a rockstar, an astronaut, and a pilot all at once whenever he’s near her.

“I think we should be there in an hour,” Y/N muses and halts in her boots to check map and compass, Sam instantly joining her to take a look over her shoulder. “The mine shaft and the cave system are a few miles up the mountain. If we follow the trail along the river, it should lead us right there.”

“Sounds good. We still have enough daylight,” Sam agrees with a resolute nod and a look to the sky, where the sun is still standing high above their heads.

Dean, on the other hand, ignores the eerie feeling in his gut. Aware Y/N is a seasoned hunter with a superb skill set, he knows there’s no real reason for him to worry more than he should. She can handle herself; she always could. It’s a hunt like any other, one of many over the years. Hell, it’s not even the first Wendigo they’ve hunted together. There was another one three years back in Michigan. So truly, what’s different this time?

Right, his fucking feelings…

Y/N and Sam keep chatting as they cheerily march up the mountain, their breaths not even remotely labored, even though the climb is pretty steep. Apparently, going for a jog every morning pays off. Dean, however, stays quiet and trails behind them, green eyes observing their surroundings as he swallows the tiny bit of apprehension and jealousy down.

“You’re quiet today,” Y/N notes and purposely falls back to his speed as Sam wanders ahead – not before the younger Winchester shoots his older brother a secret look that says tell her, though. “You okay?”

The green-eyed hunter mirrors the small smile on her lips and nods, gulping, “Yeah, I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” Y/N accepts with a slight pout, although she’s obviously far away from buying his lie. She licks her lips and adjusts the straps of her backpack on her shoulders. “So, uhm, after the hunt, I figured we could check out that bar across the motel?”

“Sounds good,” Dean agrees, his smile widening and cheeks blushing, even though it’s just the usual hunter invitation to celebrate the end of a case.

“Okay, great,” Y/N lets out a small breath of relief. Was she nervous to ask him? Why the hell would she be? “I actually have to tell you something, so I could use a little liquid courage.”

Dean’s brow furrows, his heart rate accelerating. “Liquid courage? For what? You know you can always tell me everything.”

“Not everything,” Y/N mumbles and averts her gaze to the trail ahead.

“C’mon, what is it?” Maybe it’s wishful thinking or sheer curiosity, but Dean can’t help it and hopes she feels the same way he does, although it sounds like complete insanity again. She’ll probably only confess that she’s been in love with Sam this whole time. He is the smarter choice, after all. Just look at that flawless mane of hair!

Y/N only shakes her head at him and hides a mischievous grin behind her lip bite. “Nuh-uh, forget it. Not drunk enough yet,” she says and then hops forward to join Sam again.

After an hour, the three hunters finally reach the mine shaft that leads to an intricate cave system – the perfect hideout for a monster. Eight women disappeared here last week, the location a popular hotspot for everyone who seeks thrills and adventures. Dean doesn’t count himself as one of those people. His life is adventurous enough as is. Frankly, he would’ve preferred pay-per-view at the motel over this hellish trip.

Equipped with flashlights, the three carefully stalk inside. It’s incredibly dark and humid, low growls echoing off the stony, muddy walls, so the hunters know they’ve found the right place. The monster is definitely here, even though it still sounds miles away, which isn’t ideal. It only means they have to venture further in, and Dean already hates this with every fiber of his goddamn being. Caves are not exactly his favorite hunting grounds. Y/N, however, seems as fearless as ever, and Dean can’t help but admire her endless bravery. Obviously, she’s so out of his league it’s not even a little bit funny.

“Did you guys hear that?” Y/N stops in her tracks, her ears perked as she surveys the array of noises that bleed through.

“Woman’s voice?” Dean checks, although he’s sure all three of them can hear the faint screams and whimpers.

“One of ‘em is still alive, apparently,” Sam muses, concern and sympathy etched into his brow.

“I think it’s coming from here,” Y/N says and holds her ear to a small cave opening in the wall – if you can even call it that, the entrance as big as a cartoonish mouse hole.

“We can’t fit in there. We need to find another way around it,” Sam informs them and pulls out the cave map they’ve received from a park ranger.

“You guys can’t fit in there.”

“What?!” Dean’s head snaps to Y/N as soon as those words leave her mouth, seeing the gears turning in her head.

“I’m small… unlike my broad-shouldered friends. I can fit,” she shrugs casually as if it wasn’t the craziest suggestion she’d ever made.

“Mm-mm, no. You’re not squeezing through a small tunnel with a monster waiting for you on the other side, Y/N,” Dean tells her sternly, only one sharp tone away from making it a full-on order.

“Dean, she might be dead by the time we get there. I can do this,” Y/N assures him. “This isn’t my first Wendigo, you know?”

As Dean glances at Sam for some support, surely convinced his little brother would come to the same conclusion, the green-eyed hunter soon notices Sam’s suspicious silence on the subject matter and frowns. So much for brotherly support…

“Dean, it might be the only way to save that girl,” Sam agrees. Of course, the gentle giant does.

“Alright, so we all agree,” Y/N smiles and throws her backpack on the ground, pulling out a few flares, a machete, and a lighter.

“No, we don’t,” Dean shakes his head vehemently. “I don’t agree. Not at all. Very much disagree with this plan, in fact.”

“Okay, noted. It’s still two against one, so sorry. Guess you’re losing this one, De,” Y/N says simply and then puts the flashlight into her mouth, proceeding to crawl through the narrow opening.

Dean’s close to grabbing her ankles and pulling her back out, not caring about any surefire protests on her part and the huntress’s wrath as his heart pounds so harshly and loudly against his ribs it almost sounds like a Neil Peart drum solo in his chest.

“Y/N, you still okay?” Dean checks after a minute when the soles of her shoes have disappeared from his sight. As he shines his flashlight into the tunnel, he recognizes her a few feet ahead. “I don’t like this,” he tells Sam, chewing roughly on his plump bottom lip while his brow is in a constant crinkle.

“Me neither, but it’s the only choice we have, Dean,” Sam counters and focuses back on the map in his hands.

“Oh, is it?!” Dean mocks in sheer sibling annoyance. “You better find out where that tunnel leads and how we can fucking get there,” he barks as the anxiety claims his lungs. “Fast.”

“Already on it,” Sam assures him.

Dean’s heart only gets a single second free of concern, though, before Y/N’s voice rings every alarm bell in his goddamn head.

“Guys? There’s something wrong here. And there’s definitely blood and… stuff in this tunnel,” Y/N informs them, her voice barely audible the farther she gets. “It’s really gross…”

“Okay, Y/N, just get back out here. We’ll find another way,” Dean orders her, his flashlight and eyes unable to see her as he peers into the hole again. Her sweet voice is all he has left now.

“I-I don’t think I can move back out, De,” she says, her tone laced with slight panic now. “This thing is kinda tight. Kinda like… You know what? Never mind.” Dean knows she attempted a dirty joke there, one he certainly would’ve appreciated if he wasn’t currently fearing for her life. “I can only go forward. Just meet me at the end, okay?”

Quite panicked himself at this point, the green-eyed hunter turns back to his brother, “You found it yet?”

“Uh, yeah, I think it’s that way,” Sam muses and points at one of three tunnel options ahead.

“You think or you know, Sam?!”

And because misery loves company, at this exact moment, the ground, the walls, the ceiling all suddenly begin to violently shake and tremble, small pieces of stone and dirt coming loose. There’s a “shit” echoing through Y/N’s tunnel that reaches the hunter’s ears before more rumblings follow, more stones fall, and the tunnel closes completely and cuts the huntress off from the brothers.

“Was that a fucking earthquake?” Dean tries to shield his head from falling debris and coughs the dirt from his lungs before frantically checking the small tunnel for proof of life, but all he can see is dirt, dust, and more stones. “Y/N? Y/N! Are you alright, sweetheart? FUCK!”

“Dean, c’mon, we’ll find her,” Sam soothes and heads for the far left tunnel opening.

“Why is there a fucking earthquake in Montana? It’s not freaking California,” Dean huffs as he stomps behind his little brother, hoping the huntress is still alive and not hurt too badly as he speeds up his strides. Either she’s been crushed to death, or a monster will munch on her, and needless to say, neither option is acceptable to him.

“Actually, Montana has seven to ten every day, which makes it the fourth most seismically active state,” Sam shares his National Geographic knowledge nonchalantly, earning him an angry scowl from the green-eyed hunter.

Yeah, guess what – Dean’s not super interested in random nerd facts right now.

There’s a loud scream that echoes through the cave system, and for an agonizing heartbeat, Dean halts in his boots as he recognizes the voice. No doubt it’s Y/N’s, and his feet set into motion and start running, following the noises of struggle as he rounds corner after corner, blindly running into different tunnels as Sam tries to keep up with him.

The maze of cave tunnels feels as familiar as his mind, a labyrinth of unknown paths that lead him to different options. But the green-eyed hunter doesn’t need a map anymore; he knows exactly where to find her without wasting a single thought on it. His heart is still the best navigation system.

There’s a flicker of red light at the end of his path, and Dean knows Y/N is close. There are growls and hisses before he hears the huntress desperately call his name – his and not Sam’s. It definitely shouldn’t warm his heart the way it does, especially in a life-or-death situation like this, but Dean literally can’t help the slight relief and happiness he feels in his chest over that fact, although he probably shouldn’t read too much into it.

Y/N’s brightly burning flare comes into view first before his emerald eyes spot the huntress on the ground and then the monster. She’s fending off the Wendigo as best as she can, keeping it at bay as she waves her flare in the air like a weapon, but Dean notices soon enough that she can’t move much and is hurt badly.

The older hunter quickly grabs the hairspray, pushes down on the dispenser, and lights the aerosol mist of chemicals on fire with his lighter – Y/N’s genius idea for a weapon, which she came up with in the motel room before their hunt. The flames shoot out and set the monstrous bastard on fire while Sam aims the flamethrower and incinerates the monster for good. Tarantino style, as Dean likes to call it. Unfortunately, he lost the round of Rock, Paper, Scissors over the glorious weapon to his younger brother, but truthfully, the hairspray was still satisfying enough.

As the monster turns to ash, Sam runs to the half-alive victim tied to a pole while Dean rushes to the huntress’s side. He cups her cheeks as she winces, inspecting her whole body and assessing her for injuries when he notices the small piece of rebar stuck in the side of her stomach, blood oozing out around the metal and pooling underneath her body.

“Ow, shit,” Y/N hisses and tries to wiggle, hand curling around his bicep. Dean’s hands quickly steady her before she accidentally drives the damn thing even deeper into her body.

“Shhh, don’t move, sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay, alright?” Dean assures her, although he’s frankly not sure if his calming words are more for his sake than hers. “Just breathe in and breathe out... There you go.”

“I-I don’t… I’m, uhm…,” Y/N trails off, her eyelids fighting to stay open, and his heart only begins to hammer louder in his ribcage, drumming in his ears.

“Y/N? Y/N, stay awake for me, okay?” But her eyes close for good, her palm lifelessly dropping from his arm to the ground. “SAM!”

“Dean, you can’t keep staring at her,” Sam reminds him, his voice only faintly audible behind the green-eyed hunter as his mind solely focuses on Y/N’s unconscious body in the motel room bed. “She’s gonna be creeped out when she wakes up.”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbles and hears Sam’s sigh of frustration and resignation.

“Alright, Twilight. I’ll grab more stuff from the pharmacy. She’s gonna need it,” Sam announces, hand reaching for the doorknob. “Be back in a few.”

As the door of the small motel room closes, Dean lets his head fall between his knees as he sits on the chair next to her bed, the tension still very much prominent in his shoulders and neck, although she should be in the clear by now. It certainly has been touch-and-go for a while, Y/N drifting in and out of consciousness, passing out from the pain as the brothers carefully removed the sharp piece of metal from her lower abdomen and stitched her up. Sam even had to send the older Winchester for a calming drive in the Impala while the younger one tended to her injuries, not being able to work with Dean’s constant yelling in his ears. The green-eyed hunter had surely been close to a breakdown. Luckily, they could forgo the hospital this time, the rebar not piercing through any serious organs and rupturing a spleen or a kidney.

His green eyes drift to her sleeping form. She seems a lot better now, some pinkish color having returned to her cheeks. Y/N always scares him, usually because she’s so much smarter and tougher than him, and every time he tried to order her around in the past always backfired, with her almost biting his whole head off. This time, though, she terrified him in a completely different way. She was pale, white as a sheet in his arms as he rushed her down the mountain. He swears he’s never run faster in his life. Even Sam, the professional jogger and marathon runner, could barely keep up, and Dean still feels the aching blisters from his boots whenever he shuffles on his feet too much.

“What would I have done if you died, huh?” the hunter mutters under his breath to no one in particular, knowing she’s dead asleep, and screws open the cap of his flask, taking a big gulp of whiskey, letting the burning liquid numb his throat. “You know if I lost you…” Another sip keeps the pricking tears in his green orbs at bay while his mind is battling a breakthrough. “I-I just… I can’t do that, you know? Probably would take me my whole life to get over you. I know you don’t know that, but you’re really important to me, y’know? I mean, hell, you can’t hear me anyways, so I might actually admit it for once,” he sighs at his own stupidity, fingers tapping against the silver flask. “I’ve been in love with you, Y/N… for a while, actually. At least, I think that’s what all those icky twinges in my chest are. Doesn’t feel like heartburn, like after eating a cheeseburger... I mean, they’re pretty much only there whenever you’re around, so that’s gotta be it, right? Love. Not like I have a lot of experience with that… I mean, not that I’m a virgin. I’ve had sex, you know? I just… I’ve never done the feelings thing. At least not well, I guess. So, in that case, you could probably say I’m a feelings virgin…”

Dean then groans loudly and lets his head drop into his palms, rubbing a hand across his freckled face. “Jesus fucking Christ, fuck me. God, I sound like an idiot… Thank God you can’t hear me. This is like the worst trial run ever… I mean, not like I would actually ever have enough courage to tell you all that shit while you’re actually awake, you know? I’m kinda a coward when it comes to that stuff. I mean, let’s be honest here for a second, you don’t care about me, right? You probably have the hots for Sammy. Can’t really blame you. You know, I’m not a girl, but I get it. Sometimes I’d like to tug on that hair too, so…”

And that’s when Dean’s muscles suddenly stiffen, his cheeks draining all color as he notices Y/N’s whole body quaking. His heart stops as he hears the first few snorts that slowly morph into a giggle and then into a full-on laugh.

Shit…

“Are you fucking awake?!”

Y/N pops one eye open at first, carefully checking the extent of his angered shock before she dares to pry open the second one, a mischievous twinkle gleaming in her orbs and an amused smile shaping on her pink lips.

“Okay… How much did you hear?”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders as much as she can and chuckles, “Well, pretty much… all of it.”

Dean scoffs, shaking his head as the tips of his ears turn beet red in shame. “What kinda psycho bitch pretends to be asleep while a man pours his heart out, huh? You know, I thought you were practically fucking dead!”

Y/N snorts and rolls her eyes. “You did not. And I think you mean, ‘What kinda psycho bitch pretends to be asleep while an idiot pours his heart out?’”

“Okay, haha, funny,” Dean huffs and chugs his flask. Is it too late to go back to that cave and hope the Wendigo eats him? “Can we just pretend this never happened before Sam gets back, please?”

Y/N responds with a casual twitch of her shoulders as she props herself up on the mattress. “I mean, sure… If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah, that’s what I want, okay?” Dean affirms, nodding. “Don’t want shit to be awkward between us from now on, you know?”

“Yeah, no, I totally get it,” Y/N agrees. “I mean, it would be pretty awkward for you if I didn’t feel the same way about you, which I do.”

“Yeah, see? Glad you get it,” the hunter huffs before his head snaps to her, green eyes widening and growing to the size of the moon. “Wait, what?!”

Y/N’s laughter then fills the motel room, but he can barely hear it over his own pounding heartbeat. Did she just say what he thinks she said? No, right? He heard that wrong. Jesus fuck, he better not make an even bigger fool out of himself.

“You’re cute,” Y/N tells him then and starts chewing on her lower lip.

Dean swallows thickly. “What, uh, what does that mean?”

“Jesus, you really are a feelings virgin,” she snorts another laugh and winces, all the giggles hurting her freshly stitched wound. Good, Dean thinks. She surely deserves that pain.

His cheeks heat up as he awkwardly clears his throat. “Wha-, uh… Let’s not make that a thing, okay? Please?”

“Oh, it’s totally gonna be a thing,” Y/N teases, chuckling.

“Great, mhm…” God, someone help him.

“Hey, Dean?”

“Hm, yeah?”

Y/N doesn’t say anything more – all he feels then is her soft lips pressing against his. The tension finally dissipates from his shoulders, his muscles relaxing as he leans into the kiss, his heart thumping wildly in his chest before it drops between his boots. He breathes her in, breathes into the kiss as her tongue slyly sneaks into his mouth and deepens the overwhelming passion as his head becomes dizzier the longer it lasts.

As he fervently kisses her back, he has finally found the right exit and leaves the labyrinth of his mind behind him. He’s on the right path, and it’s goddamn better than his imagination.

A few more one-shots are coming your way this week, so stay tuned, my loves, and let me know if you enjoyed this fic 🥰🖤

Everything Jensen Tags: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @recoveringpastaaddict @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy

Dean Tags: @parinarain @hobby27 @fromcaintodean

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #writing request #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester reader insert #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst

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alexsoenomel · 2 years

Text

Having Scarlet Powers and living with The Winchesters would include:

THIS WAS A REQUEST SO HERE YA GO!

You killing demons, angels and other creatures like it’s child’s play

Always being one step ahead of the bad guys

Dean constantly wanting to see you use your powers

“What am I thinking?”

“Dean, you are a child!”

“No, but what am I thinking?”

“Pie, you are thinking about pie!”

“Awesome!”

Using your powers to throw stuff whenever you get mad at them

“(Y/N) STOP!”

“When he stops being an ass Sam!”

Making Dean shut his pie hole whenever he goes overboard with his shit

Sam being forced to listen to you and Dean bickering every other day

“You two are impossible.”

“She started it!”

“ME???!”

“SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!”

Constantly bickering with Dean because you’re too similar and short fused

Always knowing what they are thinking because you can’t control your powers

“She is impossible! I don’t know if I want to kill her or....crap she can hear me.”

“Or what Dean?”

“Nothing.”

Sabotaging his hookups with the waitresses just because he annoys you

“(Y/N) WHAT DID YOU DO?”

“I made her see you as an old greasy man.”

Sam laughing

“I will kill you.”

“Love you too.”

Pretty much only getting along when drunk

“(Y/N) you gonna get alcohol poisoning!”

“No, I won’t Sam. I’m from Eastern Europe. We drink like it’s our last day, every day!”

Sam and Dean getting completely hammered

You being a little tipsy

“She is so beautiful!”

“And badass!”

“Dean?”

“What?”

Then it hit him

“Oh shit!”

“OOOOOOH YOU FINALLY CRACKED!”

“Shut up Sam!”

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ghostingssdeadlinee · 1 year

Text

PLATONIC ALPHABET - SAM WINCHESTER

Warning(s): none i don’t think?? Please tell me if I missed any.

AN: he’s so <33333

Adventures (what kind of crazy shit would you get into together?)

Besides hunting? He probably really enjoys hiking. And if you’d go with him he’d love it. (Don’t worry he’d carry you when get tired)

Bond (what kind of - platonic, obviously - relationship do you have with each other?)

Best friends!! Hunting buds :3

Cuddling (do you ever cuddle? how physically affectionate are you?)

I think so yeah :D! I think he’d let you sit on his lap while he’s researching, ether you also researching or just napping :3

Dance (do you ever dance together? how?)

Rarely, but I think sometimes you’d dance in the middle of the night in the kitchen. Or (probably when deans busy being dead) jamming out too his music in the impala.

Enemies (were you ever enemies? Do you share the same enemies?)

Id imagine you (alike dean) wouldn’t like ruby. Having that precious ‘I told you so’ moment.

But yeah definitely. Like proud Lucifer hater !!

Fight (how often do you fight? how do you resolve conflict?)

I don’t think very often?

And if you would fight it would probably be about demon blood, him risking his life or something silly.

Gain (how have you helped each other improve as people?)

I think you’d be a person sam could actually vent his feelings too, knowing you wouldn’t judge, obviously it would take years for him too fully open up.

But I think he’d see you at least a little more reliable then dean in the way that you’re not blinded by being blood.

Help (how do they ask you for help? how do they help you when you need it?)

He definitely has if hard too ask for help but when he does, expect the biggest puppy dog eyes ever.

And obviously, Sam would do whatever you need, You’re his best friend, how could he not?

Injured/Ill (how would they act if you got hurt or sick?)

Injured? Everything and everyone is dead. He’s getting your revenge for you right after he knows you’ll be okey.

Sick? Be very worried at first, immediately getting you the medicine you need.

Also immediately quarantining you in your room, leaving stuff for you and immediately running out.

“Sammy :((“

“… you’re sick.”

“But :(“

He gives in eventually and cuddles you.

And when you’re done being sick he’s the one being sick.

Jokes (what’s their sense of humor like? how do you joke about things together?)

He probably gives you the :| all the time after seeing something funny.

Like dumb non meaning inside jokes, he pretends too be ‘sooo done with them’ but I love it.

Kisses (do you ever kiss? how? Kisses not on the lips count)

Forehead kisses!!!!!!

(I nearly always says that but omg forehead kisses !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

He’s tall so kisses right on top of his head is so real.

Love (how do they show you they care?)

He definitely researches things you mentioned you liked and brings it up in passing convocations.

“Ha, yeah- … remember that restaurant you mentioned like 5 years ago-“

“… how do you even remember that.”

Meeting (how did you meet? how did you become friends?)

Probably hunting or child hood friends :3

Or both!

Nesting (do you co-habitate at all? how?)

I think he’d let you sleep in his bed every once in a while, especially in motels.

Also falling asleep on the couch with him reading <3333333

Oasis (is there a specific place that is “your place”? what is it?)

Maybe there would be a town that John often was near/in that there would be a motel you’d always stay at. Maybe in your hometown? I imagine you’d always have the same room and have scratched your initials where ever you can whenever you were there.

Protection (how protective are they over you?)

Very. Knows you can take care of yourself obviously, but he’d still want too protect you, take a hit for you whenever he can.

Query (how inquisitive are they when it comes to getting to know you?)

He’d let you take your time. Let you trust him before asking anything too personal.

Record (what’s something you’ll never let them live down?)

Kind of guy to have mispronounced a word nearly all his life and only getting too know he’s been saying it wrong when he’s 40.

Support (how would they show their support for you? how far would that support go?)

As long as it doesn’t hurt you, he trust that it’s for the best. So he’d support you in whatever.

Trust (how much do they trust you? how do they show you that?)

He’d actually talk about his emotions. Trust you not too judge him.

Uplift (how do you bring each other up?)

Please hype him up in the most common things.

Like he kills a monster he has already killed a million time and he doesn’t even break a sweat?

“Wooho! Sam!! Go Sammy!!!”

He’d be so happy and all flustered.

He’d try his best too try and do the same for you. (Put empties on try) ((he’d fail so hard))

It’s like when an old person tries too use gen-z slang.

Vacation (do you ever travel together? what’s that like?)

Outside of hunting? Probably no.

Maybe a longer trip too like a tourist trap if you really pleaded for it.

Worry (do they worry about you? how often?)

Definitely, any time you’re on a hunt away for more then an hour. Leaving you ‘check up’ messages every once in a while. And calling dean and Bobby if you haven’t answered.

Xerox (are there any traits or habits of theirs that you’ve picked up by accident?)

Puppy dog eyes, the :| face and big gulps.

Yahoo (what’s an inside joke you share?)

Probably something making fun of Dean, because who doesn’t love making fun of Dean.

Zany (do they have a weird side only you get to see? what’s it like?)

Full on nerd Sammy <333 talking about his silly little intereses and facts <3333

#platonic alphabet #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural #sam winchester spn #sam winchester supernatural #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fic #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader

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daffodil-mania · 1 year

Text

The Itch, pt. 2

Stanford era!Sam Winchester x fem!Reader. Swearing, sexually suggestive/explicit language, brief mention of serial murder and Ted Bundy. Still no smut but we’re getting closer (mwheheh >:3). Takes place around 2002-ish

Author’s notes: Hey y’all!! I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to post this. I could give you a whole spiel about why it took so long, but all I’m gonna say is bitches be crazy and life be crazier. Enjoy part two of The Itch!!

—

Sam’s looking at you, bangs falling in his eyes, pink lips slightly parted. His cheeks are flushed, and you spot a cute little mole on the side of his nose that you hadn’t noticed in the dim lighting of the house. Meanwhile, the itch is back in full force, and it refuses to be silenced. Your mind presents you with images of that mole peeking up at you from between your thighs, and you feel like you’re gonna explode, so you cast your eyes downward. Your eyes land on where both of your hands rest your dropped, soiled shirts, your fingertips barely touching. You slowly look back up at Sam through your lashes, and notice that his expression looks… hungry. His eyes are dark and unreadable, and you’re busy trying to work out if he feels what you do when he clears his throat and hurriedly picks up the shirts and shoves them at you before scrambling to his feet.

You rise as well, holding your shirts to your chest, feeling more than a little disappointed and very, very awkward. You’re unsure of what to say or do to break the tension when Sam speaks. “Um, if you want I can take you to my place and wash those for you. It’s not far; just five minutes.” He’s looking down at his feet, but the sliver of his face that you can see through his bangs is beet red. Your heart is beating wildly against your ribcage, and your eyes are glued to his frame. Your mind is spinning out of control and your thoughts keep flip-flopping from holy shit maybe he does like me to stop projecting your horniness onto this poor stranger, you psycho. You realize Sam is looking at you now, his face expectant, and everything inside you seems to freeze. Your heart stops beating and your breath hitches. He cocks his head to the side and you finally exhale with a nod. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be really nice, thank you.”

Sam nods gently, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Of course. We can leave whenever you want; parties aren’t really my thing, so I’m ready to go whenever.” You look back at the house. “Honestly, I’m good to go now. I just need to get my jacket from the hall closet before we leave,” you say, looking back at him. He’s nodding slowly, his eyes unfocused but trained in the direction of the house. “It’ll only take a minute, so you can wait out here if you want,” you continue. Sam looks at you and nods. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll go ahead and get the car started.” You smile at him, and you can’t be sure, but it looks like he gulps. “Alright then. Go team,” you quip, pointing two finger guns at Sam. Chuckling, he points his own finger guns back at you, and before you start to walk back he takes the shirts from you and says something about holding them so you don’t have to carry them the whole time. Walking back to the house, you can feel the itch like a burning in your chest, a swirling mix of excitement and tense energy. Just be cool, you think to yourself. He’s just a guy. A really hot, really tall, really sweet guy, but a guy nonetheless. Just be cool and everything will be fine.

With a deep breath, you plunge back into the house and muscle your way through the crowd to the hall closet under the staircase in the living room. Thankfully, there’s no one in front of the door, so you manage to squeeze inside and retrieve your jacket. You pull your phone out of one of the pockets and flip it open. You hastily text your friends that you’re leaving as well as a brief description of Sam — just in case. You don’t really see him as the serial murdering type, but you know damn well that you can never be too careful. No one thought Bundy was a killer either, after all.

You wait a couple of minutes for a response from one of your friends, but it never comes. You roll your eyes. Oh well. If you do get murdered, at least the cops have a place to start. You close your phone and shove it in the pocket of your jacket after you pull it on. You’re starting to feel quite cozy in all of your layers, so you push out of the closet and back into the living room. Before you know it, you’re crossing the lawn to Sam’s car. He’s already sitting in the driver’s seat but he steps out when he sees you coming. He opens the passenger door for you like a gentleman and a new generation of butterflies take flight in your stomach, fluttering in rosy bliss. The smile you bestow upon him as thanks is just the right mix of genuine appreciation and alluring shyness. “Thank you,” you purr, your voice laced with a level of confidence you didn’t think you possessed. Sam’s face flushes with color, and if you weren’t sure before, you are now; Sam’s into you. On some level, Sam Winchester is into you. Holy shit.

You’re about to say fuck it and plant a kiss right on his mouth when Sam does something you’re not expecting. He moves in a little bit closer to you, crowding you just enough, and ducks his head down a bit. Your heart is beating in your throat and your brain is short-circuiting when he breathes a hushed “you’re welcome” into your ear.

Holy. Shit.

And then he pulls away, a smirk plastered proudly on his face. His eyes twinkle as he leaves you gaping on your side of the car. He slides into the driver’s seat and you shakily climb into the car, trying desperately to regain your composure. He notches the car into “drive” while you buckle your seatbelt, and you can see his pleased expression in your peripheral vision.

You don’t think you’ve ever been more wet in your entire life.

Silence has just settled over the car when Sam turns his head slightly towards you, keeping his eyes on the road as he pulls away from the curb. “Wanna hear some music? There are some CDs in the glove compartment.” You hum your assent, grateful for something to break the silence, and for something to focus on besides the dampness in your panties. You open the glove compartment and find that there’s a small metallic blue CD binder in the otherwise empty compartment. You reach in and pull it out, setting it on your lap before you unzip it. You see that Sam has quite the motley collection; Red Hot Chili Peppers, Elvis, Deftones, and Celine Dion, to name a few. You take out Californication, the most recent Chili Peppers album, and pop it into the CD player. As the first song on the track list starts to play, you twist in your seat to face Sam.

“You’re not a serial killer, are you? Because it would be kind of a downer if this was just some elaborate ruse to murder me in your basement or something.” Sam snorts at that. “No, I’m not a serial killer. But even if I was, do you think I would freely admit to it?” You shrug. “Maybe. You could be trying to lull me into a false sense of security.” Sam’s bobbing his head thoughtfully, and you continue. “Or you could just be a very honest serial killer.” Sam makes a small humming noise, and the car goes silent for a while, which leaves you cringing at your stunted attempt at a conversation. Sam takes a deep breath, and in a rush he says, “But even if I were a serial killer, I could never kill anyone as pretty as you.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire, and you’re blushing so hard you feel like Pepé Le Pew. You search the recesses of your mind desperately for some sort of witty and equally flirtatious comeback, but the only thing you can come up with is, “Well. Guess I’m safe then.”

You mentally beat the shit out of yourself.

It’s not long after that exchange when Sam pulls up in front of an apartment building. He pulls into an empty space in the crowded lot that sprawls out in front of the building, and gently eases the car into “park”. The two of you unbuckle, but before you can exit the car Sam reaches behind his seat and grapples around for something. You can see a sliver of his stomach from this angle; toned and tanned, with a nice happy trail that leads into the jeans that are slung tantalizingly low on his hips. His boxers peek teasingly over the waistband of his jeans, and your mouth suddenly feels very empty.

You snap your eyes to the front windshield as Sam twists back around, your cheeks burning. He holds a plastic bag out to you, the kind that you’d get at a dollar store, and you can see that he’s used it to store your shirts in it. You take it, and when you meet his gaze you can see that he’s barely concealing a smirk. Your stomach drops and you realize that he knows you were ogling him, so you stutter out your thanks as fast as you can while you frantically exit the vehicle. Sam smoothly follows you, closing his door and locking the car with the fob. You stand awkwardly in the shadows, clutching your little bundle. Sam lopes over to you, taking his sweet time, and you get the sense that he’s fucking with you on purpose. Your itch is back, and it seems that the game is very much on.

You follow Sam to the complex, and he stops outside the main entrance to pull his keys out of his pocket. He opens the glass door and holds it, allowing you to go in first. “Thank you, sir,” you curtsy before walking in, grinning. Sam grins as well, and gives you a little bow. “M’lady.” The grin on your face widens, and you let out a giggle. You’re in a small entryway, and you’re currently facing the glass door that lets you into the lobby. There are two long and narrow glass panes on either side of the door, and through them you can see the interior of the lobby. It’s completely deserted; even the front desk has been abandoned. You see a few love seats facing the elevators, and then a small “exit” sign on a far wall above a door. Next to the exit door is another door that reads “stairs”.

Sam opens the door to the lobby, but this time he goes in first, which you don’t mind. You’re just happy to be here. You still can’t quite wrap your mind around the fact that you’re here, with your coffee shop Adonis, on the way to his apartment. Jesus Roosevelt Christ, you think you could squeal. Even if nothing happens, even if all you get out of this impromptu trip is freshly laundered clothes, you’ll be satisfied.

Well. Your itch won’t, but that’s a problem for your right hand to solve.

You follow Sam through the lobby, taking in the rest of your surroundings. Some wilting plants in big ceramic pots have been pushed into the corners of the lobby, and a few muted watercolors have been hung from the walls in an attempt to add more color to the otherwise drab space. You’re snapped out of your trance-like state of observation by the sound of the elevator button being pressed. Sam moves away from the button, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and you get the impression that he’s trying to take up as little space as possible. Maybe it’s nerves; you aren’t sure. You decide to break the silence.

“D’you go to any of the universities in the area?” You inquire, clearing your throat, even though you’re fairly certain you already know the answer. Sam nods. “Yeah, I’m a first-year undergrad at Stanford. You?” You nod, folding your arms over your chest. “It’s my first year at Stanford, too. But I think I might transfer to Palo Alto next semester.” Sam cocks a brow and smiles lopsidedly. “So you’re studying psychology, then,” he says, and you smile, too, and throw your hands up in mock surrender. “You caught me,” you chuckle. “What about you? What are you studying?”

“I’m pre-law,” he says, and he appears almost shy when he says it. He drags a hand through his hair, mussing it a bit, and it falls back in a way that looks effortlessly perfect. Damn him.

“Pre-law; that’s cool. What kind of law are you interested in practicing?”

“Well, the goal is to become a defense attorney. But I’m also really interested in environmental law,” He adds, his passion for his studies evident in his eyes, sparkling hazel star shows that you get the privilege of experiencing firsthand. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. He clearly wants to divulge more about his degree, but he restrains himself. As you step in the elevator, you ask, “Can you tell me more?”

Sam’s sheepish smile turns into a full-scale grin, and he wastes no time on diving in. He tells you about why he chose pre-law, details his coursework, shares some funny stories from classes, and the two of you get so engrossed in your conversation that you actually miss your stop on his floor. It’s only when the elevator is called back down to the lobby and a new person steps in that you realize. Sam turns scarlet and apologizes profusely. You tell him that it’s alright, and you give his forearm a reassuring squeeze that seems to abate some of his nervousness, but not the tent that you pretend not to notice forming in his pants.

After an awkwardly silent elevator ride, the other passenger exits onto the seventh floor, and you continue your ascent. The elevator dings again on the twelfth floor, and Sam steps out first. “It’s the second door on the left; room 1203.” He explains in a murmur. There is an unbroken quietness on the twelfth floor, probably due to the late hour. You check the time on your phone; it’s nearly one in the morning. You stifle a yawn, suddenly very sleepy despite the throbbing you still feel in your core. You blink to try and combat how heavy your eyes suddenly feel, but the rhythmic sounds of your footsteps in the carpeted hallway makes it even harder to concentrate.

Sam slots his key into the lock and opens the door with ease. He holds it open for you, the chivalry routine but not unwelcome at this point. You trudge into his apartment and he flips the switch on, basking everything in a soft yellow light.

Sam’s apartment is a studio. To your right, there’s a small kitchenette and dining table complete with two chairs. Directly in front of you, a bed has been pushed against the far left wall, and it’s been neatly and almost militarily made, with a few blankets and fluffy pillows resting on top of the gray comforter. Across from the bed there’s an extremely comfortable-looking and well-loved sofa that faces a wall-mounted TV and a slightly scuffed-up coffee table. You notice that the walls are devoid of any type of art or posters, unlike the lobby. There are also no plants or rugs to be seen. The decorations and attempts at making the space feel more homey are kept to a minimum, which confirms your earlier suspicions about Sam’s anti-consumerist tendencies.

You hear Sam closing and locking the door behind you, so you move deeper into the apartment to make space for him. Your heart begins to thump. You turn to watch him lock the door, and you notice that he has some kind of decorative macrame hanging from his ceiling eight beside his front door. It’s made of some kind of woven rope-like material, and in the middle of it you recognize a pattern that you’re faintly aware protects against the evil eye. This highly decorative and spiritual display doesn’t seem to match the rest of the decor in Sam's apartment, nor does it seem to match Sam as a person. But, again, you just met the guy, and far be it for you to judge anyone’s practices or beliefs.

Sam turns and notices you looking at his display, and he flushes. You’re starting to notice that whenever you discover something personal about or of personal value to him, Sam becomes embarrassed and almost defensive. You wonder what kind of life he must have had that has made him so secretive and protective.

You gesture vaguely to the macrame. “I really like your display. That’s a protective symbol against the evil eye, right?” Sam nods, glancing at it, his head ducked. “Uh, yeah. It’s found in a lot of Mediterranean and some Central and Western Asian cultures. Actually, there are even mentions of similar symbols or wardings used in Abrahamic religions.” He explains, his words coming out slowly and carefully. He worries a hand over the nape of his neck and jawline, and you nod, processing the information. His eyes snap up to look at you, and he looks not unlike a deer in headlights. You gesture to the macrame again. “If you don’t mind my asking, how do you know all of that stuff? It’s really impressive.”

Sam swallows thickly. He looks like he’s about to vomit and you’re about to apologize for being such a massive bonehead when he exhales, seemingly pulling himself together for a response. “I was really into folklore and mythology growing up, and I’ve taken a few classes on it here. A-at Stanford, I mean.” He braces himself as if you won’t believe him, but you just nod in a way that you hope seems nonchalant and accepting. Your itch has slowly started making its presence known once more, whining at you, begging for satisfaction. You decide to let your itch win this round. “Smart and cute. Nice.” You blink at him, slowly, allowing a gentle smile to sweetly spread across your face. You hold your breath, hoping that he doesn’t respond adversely to your flirtation. Sam flushes pink again, and his eyes take on that hungry look again.

Time seems to slow to a crawl, and the air is so electric that it makes your hairs stand on end. You can feel your heartbeat in your core and your body seems to be radiating some sort of electromagnetic current that’s pulling Sam towards you. Your heartbeat grows louder and louder with every step he takes until eventually it’s all that you can hear. Sam’s towering over you now, and you swear your heart is beating out of your chest like you’re a goddamn Looney Tunes character. He bends down slowly, and…

… And he takes the plastic bag of shirts from you. He straightens up, a devilish smirk plastered on his face, his hazel eyes twinkling. “I’m gonna run these down to the laundry room. Make yourself at home.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

—

Author’s notes: That’s it for part two!! I really wanted to make this part longer, bUT I also really wanted to post something because I know it’s taken me a dick year to get this out. I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you want to read more of this fic!

Tag list: @startterfly

#sam winchester x reader #slow burn #sam winchester #supernatural #sam winchester x female reader #spn #the itch #daffodil-mania

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fallingintolife · 2 years

Text

Secrets and Sickness

Request: I've been sick for 5 days now and besides the fact that I feel like crud it's really getting me down. So it got me thinking I bet Sam would take care of his girl, you know just doting on her until she's better. So if you have the time or want can you tell us about Sam taking care of his girl after getting a real bad cold?

Summary: The boys are on a hunt when you start to feel sick…but of course instead of telling your boyfriend Sam, you try to handle it yourself…Spoiler-That doesn't go so well…

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Warnings: A little bit of angst because Sam is worried, and talk of a cold

Word Count: 1,704

A/N: Anon, I'm sorry I'm just getting this to you but I hope you are feeling much better by now 💕 I'm sending you all the love and hugs along with some nice caring Sammy 💕

It started with just having the sniffles at first; running and stuffy nose, normal allergy/ weird weather changes like symptoms. So when Sam and Dean went off on a hunt for a few days, leaving you at the Bunker, you were just excited to have some time to yourself. Until day two of being home alone when you woke up with your throat feeling so sore and raw, like a dragon had blown fire down it, causing even just swallowing to be highly painful. Throughout day two was when your cough started. It was like a tickle at first but than escalated into feeling like something was stuck in your throat that you just couldn’t get out. So now, here you were, on day three, five in the morning coughing your lungs out, while trying to get up out of bed to get water, but feeling too weak because of being dehydrated. That and probably because of the fever you most definitely were running. Sam had told you last night that him and Dean would be home by lunch time today so you only had about six hours to go.

You knew that if you had told Sam you were sick he would have driven through the night to get home to you but you knew it wasn’t that serious. I mean it was a cold! Everyone got colds! You were a hunter and you’d be damned if you were going to complain about it, especially to Sam and Dean. So you allowed yourself two more minutes on the floor before getting your shit together. You were fine.

Sam knew the minute he had called you last night and you didn’t pick up, but instead texted him that something wasn’t right. Whenever you two were ever apart you always wanted to talk to him on the phone so he immediately knew something was up. He had told Dean about how you were acting and had asked if they could just drive through the night so he could make sure you were okay. Dean didn’t hesitate, and continued to drive.

Dean liked you and Dean didn’t truly like nor trust many people, but he did like and trust you.You made Sam happy, so automatically that made Dean happy. Not that he would ever admit it to you but he liked having you around just in general. You made the best pie, could even hold your liquor as well as the boys, and also you just cared. Not just about Sam, but Dean too and that meant a lot.

You and Sam had been dating for the last two and a half years but known each other for an additional four. You and Sam just clicked. You both knew each other’s deepest darkest secrets but still loved each other which definitely meant something. You loved each other, truly.

As soon as Dean parked Baby, Sam was already up the stairs and in the Bunker.

“Y/N! Hey honey, we’re home.” He froze mid step down the hallway to the bedroom you both shared when he heard a loud cough, and then realized you were in the middle of the hallway leaning against the wall.

Sam didn’t remember how he managed to get to you but next thing he knew you were in his arms. You were sweaty which had to be because your body was burning up. You were running a fever, a high fever at that. “What the hell Y/N? Jeez you're burning up…” Kissing your forehead, while picking you up he headed toward you and Sam’s bedroom.

You tried to argue, to say something but you didn’t have the energy, and to be honest you weren’t really even sure if Sam really was here or if you were hallucinating from your fever. Once he got you into the bedroom, Sam quickly stripped you out of your sweat soaked clothes as he waited for Dean to grab the thermometer that he had yelled for as soon as he had heard Dean enter the Bunker. Just when he had gotten you into one of his t-shirts was when Dean entered.

“Shit, kiddo.” Dean grumbled in disapproval, as he handed Sam the thermometer. Luckily, he had grabbed the quick reading forehead one.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

102.8

Sam ran his hand through his hair. How long had you been running a fever and how long had it been his high? And who knows… What if it was even higher? This wasn’t good. He could tell by the sound of your cough and the small rattle sound that came from your chest when you breathed that if you didn’t already have pneumonia it was headed that way. Another loud wet cough racked through your body.

“Make sure she drinks this and get her to cough all that shit up. I’m gonna make a run into town to get her some medicine. I shouldn’t be long.” Placing a cold wet washcloth on your head, while placing tissues, a trash can, and a bottle of Gatorade next to you, Dean quickly made his way to the Impala, keys already in hand.

With a sigh, Sam gently maneuvered you so that you were laying in-between his legs and against his chest so he could support you. Placing the cold washcloth back on your forehead, you whined in protest and began coughing.

"I know, I know, baby. It's alright. Here, sit up. I need you to cough all that up." Sam helped support you as you coughed up all the stuff that had been sitting in your lungs into the trash can. Rubbing your back gently, he continued to praise you until you lean back against him. He sat the trash can back down and opened the Gatorade for you. "That's my girl. Here, I need you to drink some of this okay? There we go. Thank you baby." He pushed your sweat hair out of your face as you drank down the lemonade. After you drank about half, he sat it back down.

"Sammy?"

You croaked as you looked up at him with groggy, sad eyes. He knew you didn't feel well and as much as he wanted to lecture you about not saying anything now wasn't the time. Right now you needed rest and you needed Sam to help you feel better.

"Yeah, love?"

"I don't feel good." Sam frowned as he kissed the top of your head.

"I know, baby. It's alright, I'm here now. I've got you. Get some rest okay? I'm not going anywhere, I'll be right here when you wake up." You snuggled into his chest too exhausted to say anything else.

Dean had come back after twenty months with a slew of medicines for you. Sam had gotten you to take them and then he and Dean took turns (after Dean insisted…) to make sure you were getting a new dose every few hours. You didn't even wake up until noon the next day.

You woke up with your chest and throat killing you. You guessed it was from the coughing. As you rubbed your face wondering when Sam and Dean would get home was when you realized that your head was most definitely not laying on a pillow. You let out a groan as you covered your face with your hand. So you weren't dreaming. They really were home. You tried to cover your cough when you felt Sam chuckled.

"Hey, there's my girl. How are you feeling?" He was smiling down at you as he pushed your hair back, partially to comfort you and partially to make sure your fever was still gone. You avoid eye contact as you mumbled, "I'm good. I'm sorry I worried you…" Sam frowned. He gently sat up, you still in his lap, as he looked at you. You tried to put your face into his chest, but he carefully moved your chin upwards for you to look at him.

"Hey, it's okay Y/N. I mean, yeah I was kind of concerned when I saw you laying on the floor when I got home…" He let out a nervous chuckle, as he ran his other hand through his hair. You tried to move your face away from him but he gently held your face still. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick, honey?" You just shrugged, still looking down as your eyes filled with tears, a cough building in your chest and began to cough. Sam frowned in concern and hugged you gently to him. He didn't understand why you wouldn't tell him that you were that sick…

After a few minutes of silence you looked up at him.

"It's just a cold. I mean I'm a hunter Sam. A stupid little cold shouldn't be able to affect me like this. You and Dean have gone through so much worse…" You looked at as another coughing fit began. Sam looked at you uneasily, as he grabbed some water for you. As you drank, Sam spoke.

"Y/N, everyone gets sick. Even me and Dean, and this isn't just a cold baby. You definitely have bronchitis. Luckily Dean and I got home when we did so you didn't end up with pneumonia. It doesn't matter what Dean or I have gone through, sickness can kill too…" You watched Sam as he spoke and could see how scared he truly was. You put your water bottle down, and gently put your hand on his face.

"I hear you. I'm sorry. Next time I'll tell you." Sam gave you a small smile and kissed you nose, which made you giggle and then cough. Before you laid back down, Sam gave you your next dose of medicine before you snuggled into him. You noticed he had already pulled up a new TV show you both had been wanting to watch. You smiled at him and he just pulled you closer into him.

Twenty minutes in and you were already out. Sam didn't care though. He loved you and he was going to take care of you. He was going to show you that, I mean he had already told you he wasn't going anywhere, and he meant it.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #anon request #spn fic request #spn fic requests open #spn fanfic request #supernatural fanfic #spn fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic request #supernatural fic requests open #sam winchester x reader #loved writing this one 😊#i loved writing a loving caring Sammy #fluff

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spnexploration · 2 years

Text

Collared part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, eventually

Series summary: Sam and Dean save a woman from where she has been held as a slave by a witch. But things turn dark whenever they try to take her magic collar off, leaving them with a slave to look after and a curse to break.

Episode summary: Sam and Dean find you, chained to the wall, but their rescue mission doesn't go quite to plan.

Episode warnings: slavery, hints of past mistreatment, injury to reader

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: This is a fair bit darker than my previous fics! Please let me know what you think. I've already written the first 4 parts in 2 days, so I hope you like it!

Series masterlist | Supernatural writing masterlist

-> Part 2

A pair of men’s shoes entered the room. You couldn’t see more than his - presumably it was a ‘he’, but just a pair of men’s shoes didn’t automatically mean that - lower legs, as you kept your head appropriately bent to the floor. You were kneeling on the hard floor, hands carefully placed in your lap.

The thick chain connecting your collar to the wall was slack, you’d positioned yourself to have a little space to be able to move. Unfortunately, it was likely the man would pull it or move you until it bit into the skin of your neck, but you could always hope.

“Shit,” the man swore quietly. “Are you Y/N?”

The name stirred something deep inside you, but no one called you that here. You didn’t answer.

“DEAN!” The man yelled. You flinched at the sound. Dean wasn’t your name either, but if he wanted to call you that then he could, it’s not like you’d ever tell him not to.

“Sir?” you asked quietly. Normally the client would’ve told you to do something by now, or have started doing it to you.

The man came and crouched in front of you. He reached out and gently touched your shoulder. You held in the flinch, knowing that clients disliked your fear reaction until they’d given you something to fear themselves. They didn’t like to be reminded that they weren’t the only person visiting you.

“Y/N?” he asked again. You didn’t react to the name, you knew from experience that your Mistress did not approve of that name.

“Can you look at me?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” you said, looking up at his face. He had brown hair falling around his face and a concerned expression. You weren’t sure what he wanted you to do differently, so you just stayed silent until he told you.

“Do you know how to get the chain off?” he asked. Ah, you thought, he’s concerned because his fantasy doesn’t involve you staying in the one spot.

“There is an additional fee to my Mistress, sir,” you said. His face darkened, angry. You were used to that expression around you, most people who paid to use you wanted to express their anger in some way or another.

Suddenly, someone banged on the door.

The man went to open it. You returned your gaze to the floor. A second set of men’s shoes entered, perhaps this was Dean. Two clients at once was not unheard of.

“Fuck,” maybe-Dean said. It was uncharacteristic for clients to enter and swear in such a manner, it was as if they were surprised by what they saw. Perhaps someone else had paid for the men, so they had not interacted with your Mistress themselves.

“Did you see a key anywhere?” the first man asked the second.

“Yeah, hang on,” maybe-Dean said, leaving the room. He returned a minute later with the jingling key chain. This was strange, the keys were never given to the clients. One of the handlers would always come in and use them.

He came over to your chain and started trying keys. You remained still and quiet, kneeling on the cold floor. You knew you could get in trouble for this, but you would also get in trouble for protesting the actions of clients. You resigned to your fate.

The chain released and maybe-Dean held out his hand to you. You waited for an instruction.

“Here, kid,” he said. “I’ll help you up.”

It wasn’t a proper order, but he seemed inexperienced so perhaps he thought it was. After a moment’s hesitation you put your hand in his and he pulled you to stand. You kept your eyes on the floor, but from this vantage you could tell that both men were significantly taller than you.

Thinking that things would go better if you showed the men that they had to be more explicit about what they wanted, you hesitantly asked, “How would you like me?” You were much more used to dealing with return clients than rookies.

“Oh, uh, we’re not- we’re not here for, umm, that,” the first, and taller, man stuttered. Why else would they be here, you wondered, quite unable to think of anything else that could happen in this room.

“We’re here to rescue you, sweetheart,” the second man, maybe-Dean, said without a hint of irony in his use of the pet name. You didn’t understand what that meant, your brain stuck behind a fog.

You stayed where you were, waiting for an order.

“Ok, we can deal with this later when we’re not trying to outrun a witch’s potential friends. Come on,” maybe-Dean said, taking your hand and pulling you towards the door.

“Please sir, I cannot leave the room,” you pleaded, dreading the outcome. He continued to pull you towards the door. “Please, sir, please!” He looked at you confusedly but continued to tug you along.

He pulled your arm through the door. And then it happened. The white hot pain emanating from your collar, the blinding light, the screams that you heard and then realised were your own.

Maybe-Dean had shoved you back in the room when he saw it happening, his hands on your waist holding you up before he clutched you to his chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said in a rush. You were surprised he would apologise to you.

You started to get your breath back. “I’m sorry, sir. I cannot leave the room unless my Mistress orders it,” you said with a trembling voice, afraid of what he would do that you weren’t obeying his commands. But the command from your Mistress overruled anything else. “I’m sorry, sir,” you pleaded.

“Hey, hey,” he said soothingly, “It’s not your fault.” He continued to hold you against his chest, rubbing his hand on your back. It was very strange and somehow… pleasant.

“We have to find a way to get this collar off, I think,” said the first man. You had almost forgotten he was here. He bent down to look at your neck. His scrutiny was unnerving but you avoided flinching.

“Looks like it’s spelled,” he said. You remembered your Mistress saying strange words when she put it on.

Maybe-Dean swore again. “I fucking hate witches,” he muttered. Then, he had an idea. “Hey, sweetheart, has your Mistress ever taken the collar off?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you said haltingly. You didn’t like to be reminded.

“Do you know what she said to take it off? Did she need any special ingredients or anything with her to do it?”

You nodded slightly to the first question.

“Can you tell us?” he said gently. You weren’t sure, you’d never tried to say the words out loud so you didn’t know if there would be a reaction. No one had ever asked you before. Besides, it wasn’t an order, you didn’t have to obey him until he said it properly.

You remained silent.

He looked at your face and seemed to try a different tact. “My name’s Dean, and this is my little brother Sam. What’s your name?”

“Room 14,” you responded automatically. Dean’s eyes widened.

“I want to get you out of this room, but I need you to tell me how to get this collar off so that I can do that,” he said.

You felt your need to obey overriding your fear. “Resero opens it, praecludo closes it.”

“Does that seem a bit simple to you?” Sam muttered to Dean. “That’s just plain Latin for open and close.”

Dean shrugged, “Witches, man.” Sam nodded.

“Ok,” Dean said, turning back to you. “I’m going to take the collar off now, and then we’re going to get you out of here.” You didn’t respond, it wasn’t an order or even a question.

You just dreaded what would happen next.

#Dean Winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester angst #spn #spn fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #supernatural x reader #dean winchester saves you #collar #dark fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x you

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senashenta · 1 month

Text

Horror High: Chapter Seven

Title: Horror High

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit (in other chapters)

Warnings: Sex, Violence

Summary: John Winchester plants his eldest son at Caspar High in Jacksonville because weird things have been happening there: people disappearing. People reappearing only dead and drained of all their bodily fluids. Cocoons. It’s up to Dean to figure out what’s stalking Caspar’s halls and deal with it accordingly; but then he meets the New Kid—newer than him, even, the New-New Kid—Castiel Novak, and all his plans get severely derailed. Now Dean has to juggle the supernatural case—a really hungry jorogumo—and also the fact that he’s very quickly falling in love, something that is absolutely forbidden by his dad.

Meanwhile Castiel, shoved into the third new school in a year because his adoptive father—Chuck Shurley’s—job has them moving around a lot, struggles to fit in at Caspar High, not only because he’s the New Kid but because he’s the weird New Kid. Dean seems like a saving grace, a harbor in a storm, someone who doesn’t judge him—that is until Cas finds out about Dean’s night job. Cas’s life just got a whole lot stranger—but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Dean, regardless.

Notes: I feel like at 40,000+ words I should have more feedback than I do and I'm not... sure... what I'm doing wrong. Because no one is telling me. Is it just because it's top!Dean and bottom!Cas? It it because I'm a new author to SPN fandom? Is the writing shit? I thought HH was pretty decent but now I'm beginning to wonder. Then again I think the fandom landscape has also changed a lot in the last couple of years since I was last really active. Maybe leaving kudos and comments is just a thing of the past? Who even knows. Hmm. idk idk idk.

Anyway, for those of you who ARE reading and enjoying HH, thanks and I hope you like this chapter, too! This chapter can be read HERE ON AO3 AS WELL. New chapter next Thursday/Friday as usual. <3

HORROR HIGH TUMBLR MASTER POST HERE.

HORROR HIGH Chapter Seven By Senashenta

Cas had assumed that things between him and Dean would… change, somehow, after Dean stayed overnight at his house. And they did, a little, just not in the Earth-shattering way he had privately feared they might.

Suddenly they were just… closer. There was more intimacy between them. Dean was even more attentive than he had been before. They both seemed to crave physical contact even more than they already had, even just the simple things, like brushing their hands together on the way past, or sitting close against each other’s sides at lunch.

And it was obvious to more than just them. Sam noticed, certainly, and made sarcastic comments whenever the three of them were together, not that that was to be unexpected.

And even Charlie—

“Oh my God, I just figured it out!”

Cas had been staring off into space, thoughts on Dean as per usual, when Charlie’s voice jolted him back to reality. He blinked and looked at her. She was twisted around in her seat, the same as always, her elbow on Cas’s desk and her chin propped in her hand, but this time she also had a mischievous grin on her face. That was never a good sign.

“Uh. What did you figure out, Charlie?” He questioned almost hesitantly.

“What’s different about you!” Charlie chirped, and then; “you totally slept with him, didn’t you?”

“What.” Cas didn’t deny it immediately, which was probably a mistake on his part. Instead, he flushed red and frowned in her direction. “Charlie!”

The redhead gasped and grinned, “oh my God, you actually did!” She turned around in her seat even more to cross her arms over Cas’s desk and looked at him expectantly, “tell me everything.”

And, granted, Charlie was his best friend. And he might have been willing to actually tell her—if they hadn’t been in the middle of class. So instead, Cas gave her a look and told her flatly, “no. We’re in class, Charlie.”

“Well, that’s…” Charlie began, then trailed off and looked around at all the other students before conceding, “right, I take your point.” She patted one hand against his desk, “I am going to text you tonight and you are going to answer, okay?”

Cas couldn’t really argue with that too much, because for Charlie this was being exceedingly reasonable. He loved Charlie, he really did, but sometimes she didn’t have a lick of common sense in her entire body. At least this time she was willing to let it go for the time being—and Cas was much more willing to share some of the details she craved over a private chat later.

Why she wanted to know about his sex life in the first place was beyond him.

“Can you at least tell me if things are good?” Charlie asked after a brief pause. She offered him a real, genuine smile this time, the mischievousness gone, “it seems like they’re good.”

This time Cas had to smile in return, small and smitten and a little embarrassed, “they’re good.” He promised. “Really good.”

Charlie reached over to squeeze his hand, a genuine, friendly gesture. “I’m happy for you, Cas.”

“Mm,” Cas agreed, “I am too.” For once.

-- --

[Okay, spill the deets, Cas.]

Cas checked his phone when it buzzed just after eight-thirty that night, while he was working on homework in his bedroom—and sighed. He’d almost forgotten about Charlie’s promise to text him. And his not-quite promise to reply. But clearly Charlie hadn’t forgotten, obviously. It was probably a miracle she had waited until this late to message him, now that he thought about it.

He tapped his pen against his notebook absently for a moment before picking up his phone to text back:

[Why do you even want to know?]

Honestly, Charlie was a lesbian and very out, and he didn’t understand why she would be interested in knowing about his sex life, aside from the fact that she sometimes had a preoccupation with the mystery of Dean Winchester. He glanced down when his phone binged again:

[Because you’re my friend I want to know he didn’t do anything to hurt you, even accidentally.]

That made Cas pause—and he smiled down at his phone screen fondly:

[Charlie. I told you things were good, didn’t I?]

Honestly, if she was just worried about him, she could have just said so. But it was… nice. To know that she cared that much. He hadn’t had many people in his life that had cared for him like that. She really was his best friend, wasn’t she? Aside from Dean, of course.

[I know you said that, but honestly you are so in love with him that I don’t even know what to believe anymore.] Charlie finally replied, after a brief pause.

Cas hesitated. Started to type “I’m not—” but knew that Charlie would see though that, even over text. So instead, he ignored that part entirely:

[He didn’t hurt me. I promise. He was gentle. It was good, Charlie. SO good. BOTH times.]

He wasn’t sure if Charlie would be smiling over that or gagging a little, but that was the jist of it, without getting into any of the dirty details, which he was absolutely sure Charlie had no real interest in. When Charlie came back with a response it was:

[Dude, how did you even MANAGE this? Is your Dad deaf or something?]

Cas muffled a little laugh:

[He was out of town. Dean stayed the night while he was gone.]

There was a long pause after that, and Cas finally went back to his homework while he waited, scribbling out a few more answers—then crossing out one to redo it. When his phone pinged again, he glanced at it:

[Oooooh, yes, that makes more sense. But you’re sure you’re okay? I mean, even emotionally? Nothing you need to talk about? It’s a big thing. I remember the first time I slept with my first girlfriend, it was INTENSE.]

Cas sat back in his seat to type out his reply:

[It was intense, yes. And awkward sometimes. But it was good. And I promise I’m fine. Things with me and Dean are… they’re really, really good. I don’t regret anything.]

And wasn’t that the important thing? Spending the night together hadn’t made things awkward or weird between them, it had brought them closer together. How could he possibly regret it when that was the end result?

Charlie’s next text echoed his thoughts: [That’s the important part. You’re happy, no regrets. Then I’m happy for you. Also, it means I don’t have to kick Dean Winchester’s ass for you, so there’s that.]

Cas chuckled at the very idea of petite Charlie attempting to kick Dean’s ass: [goodnight, Charlie.]

[Night, Cas.]

-- --

Caspar High and Bedwin Junior High were having a P.A. day on the same day, probably because they were associated, which meant no classes on Friday, which meant they could spend the day however they wanted to. This, of course, meant that Cas would be joining the Winchester brothers in another hours-long research session—only this time not at the motel they had been living out of for weeks.

Instead, he invited them to his house, which he judged to be much more comfortable. (This was mostly for Sam’s benefit, the poor kid spent ninety percent of his life cooped up in that dingy motel while he wasn’t in school; at least Dean had a couple of other destinations he could get away to.)

“I can’t believe you made me bring Sam.” Dean complained as soon as Cas opened the door upon their arrival, around ten in the morning.

Sam ignored him and added his own, “hi, Cas.”

Cas also ignored him. “Hi, Sam.” Standing aside, he let them come in and kick off their shoes, then added, “you can make yourselves at home. If you’re hungry or thirsty just come down and get something from the kitchen. Sam, I’ll show you where the bathroom is. My Father is home today, but he’s working on manuscripts in his study, so as long as we’re not too loud we shouldn’t bother him.” He shrugged and closed the door behind them. “Sam, my room is at the top of the stairs on the left. You can go on up.”

Sam shrugged. He had a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. “What’s the wifi password?”

“’Multiverse216’.” Cas told him, and then took a brief moment to be grateful when Sam didn’t question it. Explaining his father’s frankly unerring belief in the multiverse theory would have been embarrassing. Once Sam was off, headed for his bedroom, Cas turned his attention to Dean, who was still looking grumpy, arms full of heavy-looking books. Sighing, Cas reached to take a few of them with a smile. “What’s wrong? You’re pouting.”

“I am not.” Dean absolutely pouted, shifting the remaining books to one arm, then; “we definitely can’t make out with Sam around, can we?”

“Probably not,” Cas agreed, turning to head upstairs, “but it’s not fair on him to make him hide away in the motel all the time while you come over here, and we go out places and everything. Hence me inviting him. Besides, we’re supposed to be doing research, which means no making out anyway.”

Dean grumbled something like ‘you’re lucky you’re so cute’ under his breath, making Cas laugh as they climbed the stairs.

When they got to his room, Sam had already taken over the floor at the foot of the bed, his laptop out and notebooks and papers spread everywhere. Cas took a moment to point out to the door to the bathroom to him, at the same time as Dean made a beeline for the bed and flopped onto it with his books, then scooted around to pat the spot beside him with a hopeful look.

“Nice try.” Cas set the rest of the books down beside Dean, who proceeded to give him a dirty look, and then moved over to his desk where his own laptop was set up, digging out a notebook and pen while he powered it up.

“Thank God at least one of you has some common sense.” Sam commented without looking up.

“I try.” Cas agreed.

“I hate you both.” Dean groused.

At that point they all got down to work, Cas and Sam doing Internet searches while Dean poured through the numerous books they had brought along. There was general companionable silence, with the exception of once or twice when one of them thought they had a lead and it turned out to be nothing in the end. In those cases, muttered cursing happened.

Cas was mildly disturbed by the number of Aragog or Shelob fansites that kept popping up—and more than mildly disturbed by the Aragog/Shelob fanfiction that followed. He was very quick to click away from those types of things when they came up in his searches, but he was getting enough of it that he began to develop the opinion that some people had too much time on their hands.

Around twelve thirty, they took a break for lunch and Dean made the executive decision that they were ordering pizza. Cas had learned last time that Dean’s version of pizza was all meat and contained no vegetable toppings of any kind, and this pie followed in its’ predecessor’s footsteps: pepperoni, sausage, bacon, and extra cheese. Sam was obviously used to it because he didn’t question the order at all. Cas just figured pizza was pizza and it was all good. He took a slice in to his father, who was still typing away at his computer. Chuck said a quick thanks and immediately got right back to work.

They ate standing around the kitchen island, and one extra large pizza didn’t last long as they were all growing teens. Besides that, Dean could put away half of one himself, easy. Once they were done, they tidied up their mess (pizza box, soda cans) and headed back upstairs to continue their research.

This time Dean managed to Puppy Eye Cas into joining him on the bed. He unplugged his laptop and took it with him, laying on his stomach beside his boyfriend and staunchly ignoring when Dean leaned over and dropped a kiss against his neck. He was not going to start a full-on make-out session with Sam in the room. That was just rude. Dean seemed to get the hint after a minute or two and went back to his books with a disappointed sigh.

“Thank you for being so reasonable, Cas.” Sam piped up from the floor.

“You’re welcome, Sam.” Cas replied easily.

“I’m right here, you know.” Dean grumbled.

That was the end of it for then and they all went back to work, mostly quiet for the next hour of so until Sam suddenly hit on something, frowned to himself, and followed a series of links to a particular article about—“jorogumo!” He announced excitedly, pushing himself up and peering over the edge of the bed at Dean and Cas, “I think I might actually have something, here!”

“Thank God,” Dean slammed the book he was looking through closed and waved a hand toward Sam, “lay it on me, Sammy.”

“Okay, so,” Sam turned back to his computer, “a jorogumo is a type of yokai, or demon, a creature from Japanese folklore. The kanji used to write it literally translates to ‘spider woman.’ It’s half-spider, half-woman, and preys exclusively on men. In some myths it can shapeshift into a beautiful woman to lure in its’ prey, but that part changes depending on who you ask. Uh… so they originate from Japan, like I said, but they’ve kind of slowly spread out over the world, all different subspecies.” He poked his head up to look at Dean and Cas again; “they inject their victims with digestive juices and then drink the liquified insides, like spiders. And that would explain the cocoons and the exoskeleton!”

“And the fact that the victims have all been male. Sounds like our monster,” Dean agreed, “how do you kill them?”

“Fire!” Sam grinned, “just fire, that’s easy, right?”

“Depends.” Dean hedged, “are we talking Molotov cocktails?”

Cas blinked at that and turned back to his computer, typing something in and then scrolling for a minute while the Winchesters discussed the merits of Molotov cocktails and the fact that their dad wasn’t around to buy the liquor for them this time, so Dean would have to use one of his fake IDs and pray the people at the store believed him.

“Will this work?” Cas interrupted finally and turned the laptop for Dean to see the screen.

The older boy blinked, then squinted—and finally grinned. “Yeah. That’ll work, Cas.” Leaning over, he kissed Cas hard, then pulled back, still grinning, to add, “that’ll definitely work!”

-- --

It turned out that building a miniature homemade flamethrower was almost disturbingly easy. And cheap. And at no point required a fake ID. All they needed was a small fire extinguisher, a bicycle pump, a drill, a hacksaw, a vice grip, a few other small odds-and-ends and about a gallon of lighter fluid. All of this could be purchased from local hardware stores (on Dean’s fake credit card) for less than a couple hundred bucks.

They were going to make three of them.

Not one for each of them, of course, Dean was going to be doing all the heavy lifting when it came to Monster Killing Time, but because each one was good for maybe four blasts at best (probably more like two or three) and they wanted to be prepared. In later years the Winchesters would improve on the mini-flamethrower design, but for now this was what they had. It was also why Dean insisted on using his fake ID and buying liquor anyway—to use just in case the flamethrowers failed him, since all the lore they could find on jorogumos said fire and nothing but fire.

“What’s left at this store?” Dean asked. He was leaning on the mostly full shopping cart as they walked the aisles.

“Um…” Cas glanced down at the list in his hand. “Lamp wicks and hose clamps.”

“Right.”

The list of things they needed to buy had been divided into two and they had gone to two different stores just in case a clerk got suspicious. They were already getting odd looks because they were even there—midday on a Friday—and not in school, though no one could know they were in the middle of a P.A. Day, of course. Still, it was important to mitigate the strangeness of their purchases, just in case.

“Got the lamp wicks!” Sam came around the corner with the box of wicks in his hand and dropped it into the cart. Dean didn’t even stop moving. “Couldn’t find the hose clamps. It’s possible they don’t stock them. We may have to hit another store.”

“Or go back to the last one again.” Dean shrugged.

Probably unadvisable. They’d bought two fire extinguishers and a hacksaw at the last store. Going back again would likely garner attention they didn’t want.

“Google says there are over thirty hardware stores in Jacksonville,” Cas put in his two cents helpfully, “I’m sure we can find another one.” A pause then; “which has hose clamps, hopefully.”

“Why do we need hose clamps, again?”

“We just do, Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed hold of the front of the cart to halt it in its’ tracks, forcing Dean to stop walking as well. “Why don’t we just ask someone who works here about the hose clamps?”

That… was probably a good idea. Cas blinked and wandered off to find a sales associate without another word.

It turned out the hose clamps were down Aisle Twelve and they had walked past them at least twice already in their wandering the store. A few minutes after Cas left, he came back with three of the highly sought-after part and dropped them into the shopping cart with a little, pleased smile. “That’s it, right?”

When they got to the register and put everything up on the cash belt the man behind the counter took a quick look over the contents of their purchase and asked cheerfully, “you guys building a flamethrower? I saw it on YouTube! You’re missing a few things, though.”

“Flamethrower? Nooooo, absolutely not!” Dean laughed nervously at the same time as Cas blurted out “it’s for science class!”

Sam facepalmed and pushed in front of them to address the cashier: “just double bag it, please, we’re walking.”

-- --

Actually making the flamethrowers was a lot more complicated than buying the parts had been, but Dean and Sam seemed to be on it. Cas felt rather useless, just sitting around watching, but he really had no idea what he was doing, while they did.

So, once they got back to the motel the brothers got to work and over the course of the afternoon, they built three of the deceptively innocent looking little devices. They couldn’t really test them out properly, as they had nowhere to test them, and they also didn’t want to waste the fuel, so they just had to hope they worked when the time came.

Dean also left for a little while and came back with a bag full of bottles of liquor—apparently, they had accepted his fake ID after all. Those were lined up along the counter in the kitchenette to be turned into Molotov cocktails closer to the time they would be needed.

It was decided that, barring any unforeseen circumstances, Dean would head into the monster’s nest in two days, on Sunday night, when there wouldn’t be anyone else around to get in the way—or get hurt.

Cas didn’t know how to feel at that moment except nervous, and it showed. Once they were done their preparation—or as close to done as they could get—Dean tugged him over to his bed to lay down, and the two of them just cuddled up together, not saying a word, for the rest of the time he was there.

This time Sam didn’t even make any sarcastic comments.

When he was leaving to go home, around dinner time, Cas whispered a quiet, “please be careful.”

Dean leaned their foreheads together and closed his eyes, promising, “I will.”

-- --

All of Saturday, Cas worried. He cleaned his room to distract himself. When that didn’t work, he texted Charlie for a while. Then he broke down and called Dean, just to talk to him, to hear his voice. They talked about everything and nothing—and it helped, at least a little. But he couldn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning and eventually just giving up trying.

Sunday was much the same, but this time he didn’t call Dean. Dean needed to focus, he didn’t need his fretting boyfriend distracting him, throwing him off his game. He barely ate any of his dinner and his father asked if he was feeling alright; he replied that he thought he might be coming down with something.

At ten o’clock at night, he got one text from Sam:

[He’s leaving in an hour. Everything will be fine.]

And Cas stared at it for the longest time before shoving his phone in his pocket and heading out the door.

-- --

When Dean arrived at Caspar High at almost midnight, he was shocked to find Cas standing out front, waiting for him. A deep frown crossed his face, and he all but stomped over, hauling the duffle bag with the flamethrowers and Molotov cocktails in it along the way. Cas at least had the presence of mind to look guilty when he saw Dean coming—his boyfriend was going to be angry, and he knew it.

“What the hell, Cas?!”

“Dean, I know, I just—”

“You can’t be here!” The only reason Dean wasn’t shouting was because he didn’t want to draw attention to them. As it was his voice came out a harsh, growled whisper. “Go! Home!”

But Cas, maybe surprisingly, maybe not so surprisingly, dug his heels in. He crossed his arms. “No! You need someone to be here for you! What if something goes wrong? You expect me to just sit at home while you—”

“THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I EXPECT.” Dean hissed, glaring now, “this is my job, Cas! You’re a civilian, you need to go home! Right now!”

Cas glared right back, a deep frown on his face, and shook his head. “I’m staying, Dean! What if you get hurt? You’ll need someone to get you back to the motel—or to the hospital! This whole solo Hunt thing is risky and stupid, and I can’t just—” Breaking off, he made a frustrated noise and grabbed at the front of Dean’s shirt, yanking him forward and leaning to kiss him harshly. “Don’t be stupid about this, let me stay.”

Dean continued glaring at him for another long moment before he made a little annoyed sound, green eyes skimming to the side and then returning to Cas’s, holding there intensely. “Don’t you dare come inside, Cas. You stay out here, no matter what happens.”

Well… that wasn’t really what he had intended, but Cas figured it was the best he was going to get. He knew there was no way Dean would let him go into the school with him—Dean cared about him too much to allow that. Cas was still frowning, but finally nodded. “Okay.”

Dean huffed a frustrated noise and crouched down, rummaging through the duffle bag before pulling out two of the Molotov cocktails and a lighter. When he stood again, he held them out for Cas to take. “Here. Just in case. You know what to do with them?”

Cas took the bottles and the lighter, tucking the lighter into his pocket so he wouldn’t lose it. “It’s pretty self-explanatory, so yes.”

Really, what Dean wanted to do was leave one of the flamethrowers—but he couldn’t risk it. They each only held a couple of blasts worth of fuel. He would need them. Besides which, he didn’t even know for sure that they would work, yet. He didn’t want to leave Cas with a possibly defunct weapon in case something did happen.

“Damnit, Cas.” Grabbing at the side of Cas’s neck, he pulled the other boy in for another harsh kiss, then pressed their foreheads together and muttered, “this is really, really Goddamn stupid.”

“I know.” Cas met his gaze firmly. “But I’m staying.”

It seemed to be decided. At least Cas wasn’t insisting on coming inside with him, Dean could take comfort in that much. For now, he just released the younger boy and hefted the duffle bag up to head for the school doors, already digging out his lockpick kit.

Behind him he could hear Cas say softly, “be safe,” and he had to resist the urge to turn around and pull Cas into his arms, hold him forever and keep him protected from the evils of the world. Instead, he unlocked the door and slipped into the building, alone.

Coming from the front entrance it was a much straighter shot to the tech hall and the basement, and Dean made it there without even hearing the footsteps of the guard, then picked the basement door lock again and stepped inside. The door swung shut behind him with an ominous click.

Dean flicked on his flashlight and peered down the stairs. Something in the basement rustled, stirring.

You’re home tonight, then. Good. A frown and Dean shoved any lingering thoughts of Cas out of his mind, forcing himself to focus. He couldn’t afford to be distracted tonight. He had to be the Hunter. The blunt instrument. The man his dad had trusted this Hunt to. Nothing more, nothing less.

He made his way down the stairs with determination in his steps. At the bottom he stopped, shining his flashlight around… and then paused when something above him shifted, clicking and chittering softly. Dean froze for a split second before beaming the flashlight upward and—

“Oh shit.”

Dangling upside-down from the ceiling on a thin line of spider thread was the jorogumo; it had a human head, arms and torso, female attributes and long, dark hair. But where the human torso ended, about at the hips, it was connected to a massive spider body, eight long legs and—a red hourglass figure on the mostly black abdomen.

Great, a black widow jorogumo. It just kept getting better.

The creature slowly spun its’ way down to the ground, flipping over and landing on it’s almost delicate-looking spider limbs. It cocked its’ head to the side and regarded Dean with eight large, unsettling round eyes, its’ hands carding through its’ long hair restlessly. Dean was already pulling out the first flamethrower, his movements slow and careful.

When he lit the lamp wick, though, the jorogumo took one look at the fire and sprung to life with an animalistic screech. The next thing Dean knew the thing was rushing at him and he fell back a step, bringing the flamethrower up and firing off the first blast.

The jorogumo dodged to the side, but the fire scorched a section of the nest—and that just pissed it off even more. Dean fired off another blast as the creature charged him again, then went for a third—but the tank came up dry. He snapped a curse and pitched the now-empty flamethrower away, already scrambling to pull out and light the second one.

This wasn’t going very well so far.

With the second flamethrower lit, he dodged to the left when the jorogumo lashed out at him, then fired at it again—and this time managed to clip one of its’ legs. The thing screamed and lashed out, knocking the flamethrower from his grasp and sending him flying into the wall. He crashed into the brick hard and landed on the ground harder.

Gasping for air, Dean pushed up and rolled over just in time for the creature to pounce at him and—

White, powdery smoke suddenly filled the room, along with a loud hissing noise, and the jorogumo screeched again, arms and legs flailing in the cloud of dust. Dean scrambled up just in time for Cas’s voice to call out, “get up, Dean! We’ve got to get out of here!”

“CAS!” Dean whirled to face the stairs, where Cas was standing, holding a fire extinguisher in a white-knuckled grip. “Goddamnit!”

“You can’t fight it in here! Grab the bag and lets’ go!” Cas insisted, tossing the expended fire extinguisher to the ground. He turned and started up the stairs without even waiting to see if Dean was following him—just assumed he was. Dean was going to kill him. But later. For now, he just snatched up the duffle bag and dashed up the steps after the other boy.

The two of them bolted down the hall toward the exit with the jorogumo right on their heels the entire way, and Cas burst out into the night to head straight for the two Molotov cocktails that were sitting where he had left them, one hand grabbing for the lighter in his pocket the entire way.

Dean, meanwhile, got out into the middle of the concrete lobby and skidded to a stop, dropping the bag in his hand and fumbling for the third and final flamethrower. A minute later the jorogumo exploded out the front doors, shattering glass everywhere, and Dean lit it up.

This time the fire stuck, and the monster whirled around, trying to staunch the flames while Dean set up for another blast. Cas, meanwhile, had lit the rag in one of the Molotov cocktails, and moved forward, raising his arm to throw it—

The jorogumo was faster than either of them. It whipped in a circle, legs flailing, sending Dean flying once more, claws cutting into his chest slightly in the process—and Cas managed to pitch the bottle he was holding just before the creature’s leg collided with him, its’ claws raking his flesh and sending him crashing into one of the retaining walls with a shout.

When Dean clambered to his feet, it was to see that Cas’s Molotov cocktail had hit its’ mark and the jorogumo was well and truly burning now, screeching and screaming and flailing around until it collapsed in a still-burning heap. Job done, right?

Except then he looked around for Cas, only to spot the other teen across the entryway, slumped on his side, eyes closed and not moving. Dean’s heart practically jumped into his throat, and he scrambled over to his boyfriend, dropping down next to him and hurriedly checking him over, his own breath coming fast, almost panicky.

Cas was bleeding heavily from wounds that Dean couldn’t really see in the darkness of after midnight, and he seemed to be swimming in-and-out of consciousness. Dean felt around his head urgently and made a soft sound in his throat when he found a swelling lump near the back of Cas’s skull. He had obviously hit his head when he went down. That wasn’t good, either.

Still breathing hard, Dean eased back a little, stood, then carefully hauled Cas to his feet. Cas didn’t fight it, but he went along about as well as a limp noodle, head lolling slightly.

Dean left everything else behind and headed for the motel as fast as he possibly could, half-carrying Cas the entire way.

-- --

“Sammy!”

Dean pounded on the motel door impatiently, waiting for Sam to check the peep hole before opening it; the whole time Cas was half-draped across him, still fading in-and-out of consciousness, blood slowly soaking through the front of his torn shirt and flecking onto the concrete floor beneath them.

“SAMMY, OPEN THE DOOR!” He pounded on the door again, and this time was rewarded by the sound of Sam scrabbling with the chain lock and deadbolt—and finally the door yanked open. Dean shoved past his brother, hauling Cas into the motel room and leaving Sam to shut and re-lock the door behind them.

“You brought CAS?!” Sam demanded.

“Not on purpose.” Dean grunted, then; “get the first-aid kit.”

Sam practically dove under his bed for the duffle bag that served as their first-aid kit while Dean gingerly set Cas down on the other one. Cas immediately teetered sideways, falling over with a groan. Dean tried to catch him but failed, and instead was left to swing the other boy’s legs up onto the mattress and rearrange him so he could be worked on.

“Sam!”

“Here!” Sam dropped the first-aid bag on the floor next to the bed Cas was on and then stepped back. “What happened?”

Dean grabbed where Cas’s shirt was already torn and pulled, ripping it wide open. Two long, deep gashes ran from the front of Cas’s ribcage on his left side all the way around to his back. The bleeding had slowed significantly, but they were still oozing, and dark black-and-purple bruising was already rising to the surface of Cas’s skin all over his torso.

“Goddamned jorogumo!” Dean snapped, angry with the monster and with himself and with Cas and with everything right then. He gingerly felt along the edges of the deeper of the two gashes, dismayed to find them ragged and torn rather than smoothly cut. That meant they wouldn’t be able to stitch them up. “He came in after me! He wasn’t even supposed to be there, but he was, so I made him promise to stay outside and the asshole came in after me!”

Sam was already yanking gauze and bandages out of the first-aid kit, along with the tube of antibiotic ointment that had been a literal lifesaver on more than one occasion. He elbowed Dean out of the way and got to work on Cas’s wounds, smearing the antibiotics in every inch of the cuts and then packing them before pressing bandages down and wrapping everything up in gauze.

It didn’t really take that long. Even at just thirteen years old, Sam was proficient when it came to first-aid. He’d been patching up Dean and their dad for almost as long as he could remember.

When Sam finally sat back, bloody almost up to his elbows and blood smeared all across his shirt, Cas looked… well. Not good, but better. “We should get that shirt off him properly. Get a cloth and clean him up.”

“He hit his head,” Dean muttered, almost to himself, “he hit his head hard.”

Sam leaned up and pried one of Cas’s eyelids open, peering into his eye, then moved to the other one and did the same. “His pupils look okay. Probably just a concussion. He’ll have a headache when he wakes up, that’s for sure.”

“But he’ll be okay?”

“I’m not a doctor.” Sam reminded his brother, a sharp edge to his voice, “he really should go to a hospital.”

Dean made a slightly hysterical noise and gestured harshly toward Cas. What was he supposed to do, dump the other boy outside the ER and run? He had no way of explaining what happened to him, where his injuries came from, and no real adult to help him bullshit his way out of it, either. He may have been eighteen now, but really, he was still a kid. Despite the tremendous amount of shit he would be in (for various reasons), he honestly wished his dad was there right then. He would know what to do.

“I know, I’m just saying.” Sam shook his head. He looked at his hands, then sighed and just wiped the worst of the blood off on his already ruined shirt. Glancing at Dean, he looked him over for a second and then added; “dude, you need to sit down before you fall down. Your adrenaline is about to crash hard.”

Ignoring his brother’s advice entirely, as well as the minute shaking in his hands, Dean instead stripped out of his jacket, dumping it out of the way. It would need to be dry-cleaned to get rid of all the blood. His shirt underneath wasn’t in much better condition. Dean pulled that off as well, revealing a couple of small gashes that marred his own chest, then dug through the first-aid kit for a pair of scissors while Sam went to the bathroom to get a wet cloth.

The next little while was spent cutting Cas out of what was left of his t-shirt and gently wiping away as much of the blood as possible, cleaning him up. By the time they were done, Dean was ready to drop. He sat on the edge of the bed with his arms braced against the mattress to help keep himself upright and took a few breaths—until Sam’s hand shoved into his view, holding a power bar.

“Eat this.” The younger Winchester ordered. He was still holding the bloody cloth in his other hand. “I’m going to have a shower. Cas’ll be out for a while. You should lay down.” And then an eyeroll and he cut Dean off before he could protest; “you can lay down with him, if it makes you feel better.”

Dean considered protesting anyway, but in the end, he just took the power bar, ripped it open and took a bite, then muttered around it as he chewed, “thanks, Sammy.”

Sam gave him an encouraging half-smile. “He’ll be okay.” Then disappeared into the bathroom to wash the gore away.

To his credit, Dean not only finished the power bar, he also had the presence of mind to pull a clean shirt on before he climbed into the bed with Cas, settling next to the younger boy, close against his side and resting a hand carefully against his sternum just so he could feel him breathing in and out. So he could feel that he was still alive.

But it didn’t take much of being laid-out like that for the last of his adrenaline to give way and abandon him entirely—and by the time Sam emerged from the bathroom, Dean had passed out cold. Sam huffed a little sigh and tossed a blanket over both of them before going to put on a pot of coffee. Someone needed to stay awake, and it looked like it was going to have to be him.

-- --

When Dean eventually woke up, nearly three hours later, it was with a jerk so sharp he accidentally jostled Cas as well. The hand resting by Cas’s chest clenched there, then smoothed out again, and when he felt that Cas was still breathing, he gave a little relieved sigh and pressed his forehead against the edge of the other teen’s shoulder.

“He didn’t die while you were passed out.” Sam observed from where he was seated, at the little kitchenette table, on his umpteenth cup of coffee. “I’ve been keeping an eye on him.”

Dean nodded, hair mussing against Cas’s shoulder. “Good… good.”

“We should try to wake him up, soon. We need to get him back home before morning.”

“I’ll—just a minute, Sammy.” A slightly shaky breath while Dean continued to just feel Cas breathing, and then he carefully pushed himself up and reached to cup the side of Cas’s face with a hand that still had smears of blood on it, patting his cheek gently as he peered down at him. “Cas? C’mon, Cas… time to get up. Hey.”

It took a couple of minutes of gentle coaxing, but eventually Cas began to come around, eyes slowly fluttering open and mouth working, obviously confused—and in pain. He grimaced almost immediately, and Dean made a soft sympathetic sound.

“You with me?” He asked quietly, hand still carefully stroking the other boy’s cheek, “Cas, you need to wake up. We have to get you home before your Dad figures out you’re gone.”

“’M here,” Cas groaned, and tried to sit up, only to yelp out a cry and fall onto his back again. Dean’s hands hovered worriedly before pressing against his chest to carefully hold him down. “Shit. Shit, Sam, I don’t think this is going to work—”

“Mm-mm.” Cas protested weakly and brought an arm up to take hold of one of Dean’s wrists. “Don’t want to get you in trouble. Just—help me sit up.” Then, after a brief pause, “I don’t think—don’t think I can walk home, though…” The walk home all the way from the motel seemed more than a little daunting at the moment. He would likely pass out if he tried it.

“We’ll call a cab.” Sam assured him, leaving his place at the table and heading over to help Dean get Cas to his feet.

And it was quite a feat; first they had to get him sitting up, and that was probably the hardest part. Between the two of them they struggled but managed it, and then, sitting with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed, Cas had to stop and just breathe through the pain that was radiating through his entire torso.

“Do we have anything we can give him for the pain?” Dean asked, one arm around Cas to help hold him up.

Sam reluctantly shook his head. “No, I think Dad has all the painkillers. We could try ripping off a pharmacy…?”

But Cas made another protesting noise. “Don’t need to do that.” He assured them, trying to look like he didn’t feel on the verge of death and failing miserably. “You could get caught. I have aspirin at home. I’ll be… I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Cas…”

Cas shook his head and leaned into Dean’s side, already exhausted. “I swear. I’ll be okay.”

“We have antibiotics, though.” Sam got down to dig through the first-aid kit again, coming up with a bottle of antibiotics. “You never know, right? Who knows what you might catch from a jorogumo… especially with wounds as bad as yours.” He held them out for Cas to take, “no arguing.”

Cas actually agreed with everything Sam had just said, so he just took the bottle without complaints, then pushed himself away from Dean again and braced for the attempt to stand. “I need a shirt.” To cover up the bandages if nothing else.

That was easy. Sam went to the dresser and pulled out one of Dean’s band tees, bringing it over so Dean could help Cas get into it. Once he was (somewhat) properly dressed again, Cas had to take another break just to breathe, with Dean rubbing his arm worriedly the entire time. The blatant concern that Dean was showing was a bit of a mild shock to Sam, though he wasn’t letting it show. He’d never seen his brother act this way before.

After another long pause, Cas finally took a bit of a breath and then pushed off the mattress. Dean yelped out a surprised noise and scrambled to help him, making sure it was more of a stand and less of a fall. Cas managed to stand and stay on his feet, wobbling just a little.

“My head is killing me. How much blood did I lose?”

“Not all of it.” Dean hedged, not quite an answer; “but you hit your head pretty hard. It’s not surprising it hurts.”

“Nn.” Cas just grunted softly and leaned into him a little. “Let’s just get me home so I can go to bed.”

It probably wasn’t a good idea for him to sleep on the heels of an obvious concussion, but he couldn’t tell his father why he was about to be bed-bound, never mind ask him to make sure he stayed awake. But besides that, he was exhausted. He just wanted to go to bed, any bed, pass back out and sleep for a week straight, concussion be damned.

Sam called a taxi, and it thankfully got there in what had to be record time. Dean helped Cas get out the door to wait and into the car when it arrived—then climbed in beside him without a word, leaving Sam alone in the motel room once more.

“You didn’t have to come with me.” Cas had one arm wrapped around himself, holding his ribs securely. He wasn’t wearing his seatbelt—couldn’t. It would hurt too much every time the car jolted. “You could’ve stayed with Sam.”

“Shut up you idiot, of course I had to come with you.” Dean grumbled, one hand resting on Cas’s leg, gripping there firmly, grounding for the both of them. “Besides, I have to pay for the cab, right?”

He had a point. Cas conceded this one and fell silent, leaning back and letting his head fall back with a wince when the cab hit a bump in the road. Dean just squeezed his leg a little tighter, gritting his teeth because seeing Cas in so much pain was—it was intolerable. He hated it with every fiber of his being.

The ride to Cas’s house was short but seemed to take forever. When the driver dropped them off, Dean paid with his fake credit card and then helped Cas out of the car and up the front steps of the house. Cas fumbled to get his key out of his jeans pocket and opened the door, and the two of them went inside and up to Cas’s bedroom as quietly as possible.

Once they were in the room with the door firmly closed behind them, Dean set about getting Cas out of his jeans—and then into the bed. He could sleep in his boxers and the borrowed t-shirt.

It took some shuffling and adjusting, rearranging of pillows, to get Cas comfortable, but eventually they managed it, at which point Cas weakly asked if Dean could stay, just for a little while. And as much as he wanted to, Dean had to say no. It was already nearly five a.m. and he still had to walk back to the motel. But on top of that, he couldn’t be caught there in the morning when Chuck woke up.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could,” Dean stroked through Cas’s hair gently, “where’s the aspirin?”

“Bedside drawer.” Cas mumbled. He was already starting to doze off.

Dean quickly dug the painkillers out of the nightstand and tipped a couple into his palm, then replaced the bottle and returned his attention to Cas. “Hey. Hey, take these before you fall asleep.”

Another sleepy mumble, but Cas opened his mouth and let Dean tip the pills in. He swallowed them dry and then offered a weak smile. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Dean leaned over to press a kiss into Cas’s hair and then moved away, standing. “I’ll come by tomorrow. Tell your Dad you’re sick or something. Get some sleep.”

Cas uttered a garbled agreement, already falling asleep.

Dean took off, leaving Cas to rest.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #destiel #destiel fanfiction #spn #shut up sena #sena writes #horror high by senashenta

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